#SHE’S WRITING A BOOK FOR ME IN ORDER TO PUT ME IN SITUATIONS

[algolagniaa]

As the crowd disperses either to dance or seek other diversions, you stand still a moment, wavering. You really should start looking for this hidden room; who knows how long it will take to discover it, let alone break in? But the temptation is too strong and you turn towards the direction the Duke indicated for the east wing, determined to find this Luna.

You do have all night, after all.

You’re not the only one walking towards the east wing, either. You follow a group of people who appear to know the way, up a gleaming staircase and down several halls. Many of the rooms have doors standing open with partygoers inside, drinking or playing games or watching another entertainer perform. As you pass one room, you catch a glimpse of a woman in a long glittering dress draped over a couch. A man kneels next to her and feeds her something dark and wet out of a wooden bowl that stains the edges of his sleeve crimson, but the door shuts before you can tell what it is. Finally, you reach a room with a sign propped on an easel next to the door that proclaims that Luna, the Ecdysial Ecstasy will be performing within.

A woman – presumably Luna - stands in the middle of the room on a slightly raised platform that is bare except for a cushioned stool. Chairs surround her in a semi-circle and you take one of the few remaining seats. Music plays softly from seemingly nowhere as you glance around the room. The walls are draped with dark velvet, muffling all sound, and several candelabras surround the platform. Luna still does not speak or otherwise acknowledge the presence of the audience. She is dressed in a white lace corset with a sheer, gauzy skirt that reveals more than it covers. Her mask is a very light shade of green, with an odd embroidery beneath each eye that looks like a second set of eyes picked out in black and yellow thread. She is also, you notice, barefoot. At some unknown sign, the music grows louder as the gas lamps are turned down and the murmured conversation dies out immediately as everyone’s attention is fixed on Luna.

The dance begins.

She bends and sways and spins, sending her skirt floating after her like the tail of a comet. Luna moves with the grace of a prima ballerina, sensual, captivating. She removes her skirt with a flourish and it floats gently as a feather to the ground.

Luna puts one foot onto the cushioned stool and reaches for the top of her thigh as if to remove a stocking, though her legs are bare. Instead, to your astonishment she begins to roll the skin of her thigh down with seductive deliberation, revealing delicate sinew and red-gleaming muscle. There is very little blood, just the slow and steady divesting of flesh. The skin of her arms she removes one finger at a time as if tugging off opera gloves. The audience watches in rapt silence as the flayed woman continues dancing, leaving bloody footprints on the platform. She treats the peeling off of her skin as if it was as painless and tantalizing as the removal of her clothes – and it is.

It’s beautiful. It’s horrific. It’s violent and elegant and you can’t stop watching, your mind ablaze with fascination.

Luna turns her back to you with exaggerated coyness despite the fact that she is more naked than is possible by merely undressing and undoes her corset, letting it fall away. There’s something on her back, spreading across her shoulderblades and down her spine; you can’t get a good look at it in the flickering candlelight but the shifting shadows make it appear to writhe slightly, as if something is pressing against the underside of her skin and is -desperate to burst free. She slowly reaches behind her to the middle of her back, hips swaying to the music, and pulls. The drums begin to pound and your heart pounds with it, everything feeling as though it is building to something, the tension growing tighter and tighter until your every nerve is pulled taut. Something is about to happen, but you don’t know what. You realize you are holding your breath, leaning forward in your seat in anticipation.

And a pair of pale green moth wings unfurls from Luna’s back, the motion as sharp and smoothly elegant as a woman snapping open a fan. It sends a fine spray of blood over the people sitting in the first two rows, but they do not appear to notice the blood now staining their masks. The wings, several feet in diameter, stretch and shudder, still dripping blood from the tail on the lower set of wings. There is no mistaking that they are not a costume but attached to the exposed muscle of Luna’s back. She strikes several poses so the audience can better admire her wings, her metamorphosis complete. You can see her muscles tense and pull as she moves; she is fully naked besides her mask, not even her skin keeping her from the hungry eyes around you.

Finally the song draws to a close and Luna dips into a bow, her wings fluttering slightly. The audience claps with enthusiasm, and for the first time Luna smiles. The gas lamps are turned up again and the rest of the audience gets to their feet and begins to file out of the room. Some people talk animatedly to their companions, raving about her performance and declaring it even better than last year’s, while others nearly stumble out, looking as stunned as you feel.

You walk out of the room, mind reeling. Every terrible rumor you’ve heard about this night, the stories told in hushed whispers and dismissed with a nervous laugh, you’re beginning to think are true after all. You’ve never seen anything like this before, never dreamed such a thing was even possible. And yet...you know what you saw. This wasn’t a costume or some stage magician’s trick, you just saw a real woman take off her skin like it was nothing more than fabric to be discarded with a teasing glance.

Perhaps this experience has made you even more determined to steal what you can from the Duke, since now it seems the worth of his treasures is far beyond what you originally estimated. Or has what you’ve witnessed lit a fire in you that has yet to burn out? Will your feet carry you almost unconsciously on to the next spectacle?

well I’m definitely still here to steal. And I’m going to steal. I take my work very seriously. but holy shit…… I’ve never seen anything like this before. I’m probably never going to have another chance to see a place like this again. there won’t be any harm in exploring a little….. especially since I don’t know the layout of the mansion, after all. hard to know where a secret room is if I’m just running around haphazardly. my best bet is probably to wander around a little and get the lay of the land, watch how other people are coming and going. especially servants or anyone who seems like they may be more than just a guest - they might unconsciously lead me right where I’m trying to go.

and if I have some fun while I’m working and check out more creepy circus acts….. well who could blame me? it’ll probably even make me look less suspicious if I’m actually participating in the night’s events. part of me knows that I’m just talking myself into this because I really want to see more of this ball, but the rest of me ignores that little voice and keeps talking myself into it. I take a sip of the drink in my hand and follow the crowd into the next room

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

"It’s no longer 1937… she’s not gonna be saved by the prince." 

The absolute DISRESPECT for the FIRST ANIMATED MOVIE EVER MADE and its female character who was strong in her own way! The DISRESPECT for Snow White coming from people who plan to """update""" her story??? I'm FUMING. i am FURIOUS. This is the SAME shit I said about Girlboss Cinderella do you understand???

Snow White was an abused CHILD who was isolated within her castle and then suddenly thrown into the  woods and she managed to survive using only her hope and kindness!!! She found a house and offered to work to earn her keep and she DID!!! Snow does not have to be a badass to be a strong female character. And more importantly, SHE DOES NOT NEED TO BE "BADASS" TO DESERVE HER HAPPY ENDING. Some of us in abusive situations CANNOT escape on our own. We CANNOT physically fight back and WE STILL DESERVE HAPPY ENDINGS.

Women don't have to be badasses in order to be strong female characters. So she needs to be saved-- so WHAT? Saying Snow White is an antifeminist character solely because she doesn't save herself is offensive to abuse survivors and to the original character who WAS a good character. You can criticize OTHER parts of the movie– the implication that men living without women will be useless and filthy the entire time, or we can discuss the Queen’s feud with Snow being fuelled by misogynist standards, etc.!! But just saying “she needs to be saved so it’s bad” LIKE. ARE YOU SERIOUS

Badass Snow White reboots are fine in moderation, but just like Girlboss Cinderella reboots, too many and it becomes clear what society is trying to say now- that if you're feminine and can't fight a battle, you don't deserve to be saved. Do you see why this is a bad message????? Some girls are badasses who can kill and fight as well as or better than the boys. Those girls have Mulan, Merida, Raya, Moana, Rapunzel, Elsa. They are good female characters. But you know what? So is Snow White. So is Cinderella.

I'm sure people are going to accuse me of being antifeminist for saying “oh she NEEDS to be saved by a man”– I’m NOT SAYING THAT. You could have her be saved by a woman. Be saved by the dwarves, her platonic friends. By the animals. You could write a badass Snow White reboot without being disrespectful to the original film or tale. Just fucking TODAY I read the Disney Mirrorverse Snow White book– it’s written for 13yos basically so not high art but even with them having to make her an adaptational badass, they managed to keep her personality PERFECTLY. She learns how to save herself in this book, but also remains HERSELF. And her previous inability to fight was NOT CRITICIZED by any character; her sudden badassery was a bonus for her, not an indication of her character!!!

YOU are the ones saying that if Snow White (and Cinderella) isn't saving herself, she doesn't deserve to be saved. But everyone deserves happiness and that includes those too weak to fight for it alone.

anyway that was a long feminist rant. this is also super disrespectful to the FIRST ANIMATED MOVIE EVER, the people who worked on it, Walt Disney himself, and everyone who enjoyed or was inspired by it. You absolute fucking dickheads.

also can't believe i have to say this but if y'all use this as an excuse to be racist towards anyone in the cast i will hunt you down and put shoelaces in your lungs

[books]

Writer Spotlight: Jamie Beck

Jamie Beck is a photographer residing in Provence, France. Her Tumblr blog, From Me To You, became immensely successful shortly after launching in 2009. Soon after, Jamie, along with her partner Kevin Burg, pioneered the use of Cinemagraphs in creative storytelling for brands. Since then, she has produced marketing and advertising campaigns for companies like Google, Samsung, Netflix, Disney, Microsoft, Nike, Volvo, and MTV, and was included in Adweek Magazine’s “Creative 100” among the industry’s top Visual Artists. In 2022, she released her first book, An American in Provence, which became a NYT Bestseller and Amazon #1 book in multiple categories, and featured in publications such as Vogue, goop, Who What Wear, and Forbes. Flowers of Provence is Jamie’s second book.

Can you tell us about how The Flowers of Provence came to be?

I refer to Provence often as ‘The Garden of Eden’ for her harmonious seasons that bring an ever-changing floral bounty through the landscape. My greatest joy in life is telling her story of flowers through photography so that we may all enjoy them, their beauty, their symbolism, and their contribution to the harmony of this land just a bit longer. 

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

How do your photography and writing work together? Do you write as part of your practice?

I constantly write small notations, which usually occur when I am alone in nature with the intention of creating a photograph or in my studio working alone on a still life. I write as I think in my head, so I have made it a very strict practice that when a thought or idea comes up, I stop and quickly write the text in the notes app on my phone or in a pocket journal I keep with me most of the time. If I don’t stop and write it down at that moment, I find it is gone forever. It is also the same practice for shooting flowers, especially in a place as seasonal as Provence. If I see something, I must capture it right away because it could be gone tomorrow. 

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

You got your start in commercial photography. What’s something you learned in those fields that has served you well in your current creative direction?

I think my understanding of bridging art and commerce came from my commercial photography background. I can make beautiful photographs of flowers all day long, but how to make a living off your art is a completely different skill that I am fortunate enough to have learned by working with so many different creative brands and products in the past. 

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

Do you remember your first photograph?

Absolutely! I was 13 years old. My mother gave me her old Pentax 35mm film camera to play with. When I looked through the viewfinder, it was as if the imaginary world in my head could finally come to life! I gave my best friend a makeover, put her in an evening gown in the backyard of my parents’ house in Texas, and made my first photograph, which I thought was so glamorous! So Vogue!

You situate your photographic work with an introduction that charts the seasons in Provence through flowers. Are there any authors from the fields of nature writing and writing place that inspire you?

I absolutely adore Monty Don! His writing, his shoes, and his ease with nature and flowers—that’s a world in which I want to live. I also love Floret Flowers, especially on social media, as a way to learn the science behind flowers and how to grow them. 

How did you decide on the order of the images within The Flowers of Provence?

Something I didn’t anticipate with a book deal is that I would actually be the one doing the layouts! I assumed I would hand over a folder of images, and an art director would decide the order. At first, it was overwhelming to sort through it all because the work is so personal, and I’m so visual. But in the end, it had to be me. It had to be my story and flow to be truly authentic. I tried to move through the seasons and colors of the landscape in a harmonious way that felt a bit magical, just as discovering Provence has felt to me. 

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

How do you practice self-care when juggling work and life commitments alongside the creative process?

The creative process is typically a result that comes out of taking time for self-care. I get some of my best ideas for photographic projects or writing when I am in a bath or shower or go for a long (and restorative) walk in nature. Doing things for myself, such as how I dress or do my hair and makeup, is another form of creative expression that is satisfying. 

What’s a place or motif you’d like to photograph that you haven’t had a chance to yet?

I am really interested in discovering more formal gardens in France. I like the idea of garden portraiture, trying to really capture the essence and spirit of places where man and nature intertwine. 

Which artists do you return to for inspiration?

I’m absolutely obsessed with Édouard Manet—his color pallet and subject matter. 

What are three things you can’t live without as an artist?

My camera, the French light, and flowers, of course. 

What’s your favorite flower to photograph, and why?

I love roses. They remind me of my grandmother, who always grew roses and was my first teacher of nature. The perfume of roses and the vast variety of colors, names, and styles all make me totally crazy. I just love them. They simply bring me joy the same way seeing a rainbow in the sky does. 

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

[buzzkillchainsaw]

If I were to write a WOF book arc - feat. Datura, Sidewinder, Pearl, Tetra & No-one (first draft)

Indulge me for a second. It's gonna be a long second (18 pages in Google docs), so please sit down comfortably and read this if you really have time to spare. Each "book" gets progressively longer. This is your last warning. Enjoy!

Book 1: Ice

Mandatory reading: X

The arc would start with Ice and her backstory, detailing how she grew up hidden away in the Icewing kingdom. How she lost her mother to a clueless Icewing guard and how she discovered and developed her animus powers with Icebreaker's, ahem, help. There would be moments shown between Ice and Icebreaker, as the Queen would sit down with the dragonet and personally train her, making her perform grueling tasks to the point of blood and tears. Afterwards, she would strangely switch up her behavior and act kind and loving so Ice would gravitate towards her again, now that Icebreaker was her only parental figure and source of comfort.

The prologue would end right at the moment where Ice’s glowing blue shackles snapped shut and sealed her magic away, only able to cast spells if the Queen allowed it. The main purpose of this part would be to establish Icebreaker's motives and present her as a threatening antagonist for the arc. It would also paint her as a horrible, irredeemable person (dragon?).

A little time jump later we see Ice still shackled, all alone in her room. Icebreaker and a few Icewings enter and Ice is ordered to give each enough magic to cast one spell. Ice complies, because she doesn’t have much of a choice anyways. The chains stop glowing as her magic is unsealed for just that specific spell. She touches each Icewing, but hesitates at the last one. He looks familiar somehow, but she can’t put her finger on it. His face doesn’t give it away either, he’s staring ahead blankly. She goes through with it and everyone leaves the room. Later, the door suddenly opens again and Ice is surprised to see someone who’s not Icebreaker - it’s the familiar Icewing from before! He introduces himself as Tern, Ice’s father. Ice doesn’t know what to feel. She doesn’t remember him at all because Icebreaker forbade him from seeing Mesa, Ice’s mother, once Ice showed signs of magic - mere weeks after hatching, Tern explains. The only reason he was even allowed to see Ice today to get magic was probably because Icebreaker was so caught up in her extraordinary war plans that she simply forgot about his involvement. He also explains how he even ended up marrying Mesa in the first place. How Icebreaker purposefully made the captive Mesa as miserable as possible and then “accidentally” introduced her to Tern (who was kind and meek and disgustingly weak by Icewing standards, which made him Icebreaker’s least liked son). Tern of course felt bad for Mesa and tried to cheer her up in any way he could - netting Icebreaker’s approval. And so, they started talking, spending time with each other and one thing led to another. Ice is taken aback and disgusted by this story. Knowing that her mere existence was just another one of Icebreaker’s manipulations horrified her, but even more horrifying was Ice’s and Tern’s involvement in her mother’s fate. If they never existed, maybe Mesa would still be alive. Tern points out that Mesa left Ice behind during her escape, but Ice doesn’t want to hear it: Mesa had every right to run from this horrible situation. Tern understands her anger and asks what he can do to redeem himself. “Helping me escape would be a start”, Ice scoffs. Tern complies and uses his ice breath on the chain keeping her tethered to the wall, freezing the chain plate to a point where the metal shatters easily after he smashes it with a rock. However, the chains are still intact, still glowing blue and the spell isn't broken.

They flee together through the halls of the castle, alarmed guards right behind them. In a crucial moment, Tern turns back to distract the guards, allowing his daughter to narrowly escape the palace. Ice runs alone through an unbearably cold storm, her half Sandwing body barely holding itself together in the extreme temperatures. She tries flying, but the winds are too strong and her muscles are too weak from all these years she was stuck in the palace. Her arms are weighed down by the glowing blue chains dragging between her legs as she walks, a constant reminder of what Icebreaker took from her. An Icewing patrol flies above to search for her, so Ice dives into soft snow and lets the storm bury her until she can no longer hear the wing flaps of the soldiers. Only a miracle (or perhaps her Icewing half) keeps her from losing limbs to frostbite. The stars shine above as she slowly reaches a warmer climate. The snow beneath her aching feet turns to rocks, then to sand. In the dead of night, Ice reaches the Sandwing kingdom. Standing on top of a dune, the silhouette of her mother.

Book 2: Datura

Mandatory reading: 1 , 2

The next book would start with Datura's backstory and showcase her relationship with her sister. After Queen Taipan's poisoning, Sidewinder would assume the role as replacement Queen until Taipan "was back to normal". Tensions arise in the Sandwing kingdom over this decision, especially with the threat of Icebreaker's seemingly unstoppable magic army looming over them. Sidewinder and Datura argue, which results in Datura being banished from the Sandwing kingdom. She is thrown out by reluctant guards with only her glasses to protect her from the sun.

She stays in the castle's shadow until the evening, enduring her sister's taunts from above. Sidewinder even throws a piece of Datura's veil from the balcony, hoping to watch her scramble to pick it up and put it on. Datura doesn't move. As the hours pass, Sidewinder begins to regret her decision. She realizes that she has no allies left, everyone in the castle doubts her and even thinks that she poisoned Taipan to get the crown. But just as she's about to look for Datura, she finds that her sister has disappeared along with the setting sun.

In the night, Datura would run into a strange Icewing with familiar black eyes and glowing shackles. After an awkward moment of being mistaken for the Icewing's mother, Datura listens to her story and finds out that Ice is trying to find a way to get rid of the shackles to stop Icebreaker, which makes the Sandwing perk up. She asks Ice to relay exactly what she said when she cast the spell.

"I enchant these unbreakable shackles to prevent any dragon wearing them from casting any spell, unless the Queen allows it."

Datura points out that Ice didn't specify Queen Icebreaker, so theoretically any Queen should be able to give permission. She then, reluctantly, tells Ice about her own situation and agrees to ask Sidewinder, the current "replacement Queen" to try and allow Ice to cast spells. In return, Ice would use her animus powers to heal Taipan. It’s a good plan. They travel to the Sandwing stronghold and Datura infiltrates it, leaving a note for Sidewinder asking her to meet up in one of their secret childhood playing spots. Sidewinder, overjoyed that her sister has returned, immediately leaves to find her. But as soon as Ice and the plan to free her is revealed, Sidewinder feels betrayed and accuses Datura of having become a spy for the Icewings. Giving Ice her magic back would only make the Icewings even stronger, after all. Datura and Ice try to clear up the misunderstanding, but Sidewinder sounds the alarm and the two of them flee.

Ice and Datura conclude that their plan needs some work, as they can't just waltz up to a random Queen and ask her to reactivate an enemy kingdom's magic soldier maker. Maybe an even stronger animus than Ice could just override her spell with their magic and free her? Datura remembers reading about powerful Seawing animus dragons and suggests asking around in the Seawing kingdom for help. Ice thinks that it wouldn't work and wants to try asking other Queens first, really fixated on Datura's interpretation of the spell. Maybe the Rainwings were more laid back and wouldn't care about the possible implications of freeing Ice (and, let's be honest, they'd be too stupid to comprehend the consequences anyway). Datura retorts that they have no idea if asking "a Queen" would even work and not be a huge waste of time again (like the fiasco with Sidewinder, which she blames herself for). And time is the last thing they can waste right now, with Icebreaker's army on the horizon. Ice is convinced, but at least wants to try the Rainwings before throwing in the towel. They begin to journey eastwards.

In a quiet moment, Datura asks Ice what magic feels like and if the rumors about losing your soul are true. Ice doesn't know, she doesn't feel that much different than before. Before Icebreaker and her experiments. Obviously she's terrified of turning into a soulless monster. But she also points out that it was Icebreaker who seemed more and more unhinged with each enchantment she forced Ice to do, as if the damage fell upon her soul, not Ice's. But who knows, really. All that matters now is that Ice gets her magic back and stops Icebreaker before it's too late. Too late for whom? She doesn't elaborate.

*

Book 3: Pearl

Mandatory reading: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4

The third book would start with Pearl's backstory, her meeting with Tetra and her eventual escape from Lamprey. Her and Tetra want to see the world together, but also find a way to cure Tetra's wing. They swim together until they reach a river that spills into the sea. This would be the only chance for Pearl to see the surface world while staying in the water. Tetra helps Pearl, who isn't a strong swimmer, to swim upstream until they reach a calmer part of the river. It's very difficult, but they manage to do it. Tetra remarks that she could just construct a harness out of grass and vines and fly, pulling Pearl along with her in the water. However, her wing is still badly injured. The two dragonets take a break, frustrated and tired. If only there was an easy fix to this situation ... Tetra suddenly remembers her father telling her a bedtime story about magic dragons called "animi" and suggests finding one to cure her wing. In the same breath, she excitedly says "and maybe they could cure you too, Pearl!" Pearl is taken aback by this, as she hasn't really considered herself in need of "curing". Sure, her inability to breathe air on land has made their journey difficult, but this is the way she was born. Should she really change such an integral part of herself with magic? Still, she nods in feigned excitement. She figures that she could still have time to think and maybe say no if they actually met one of those magic dragons. If.

The two kids continue making their way upstream, dealing with lots of difficulties, but always finding a way to make it work together. Suddenly, they run into two strange dragons. The dragons introduce themselves as Ice and Datura and tell the two kids that they're on the lookout for an animus and a Queen. Tetra excitedly proclaims that her and Pearl need an animus too and Ice reveals that she is one, but currently cannot cast spells until a "Queen" allows her to. Pearl, who cannot speak or understand "air-breather" language, is slightly put off by everyone talking over her and while she has no idea what's going on. Tetra tries her best to translate, but as soon as she flashes the words "They're looking for a Queen" in aquatic, Pearl feels terror and fear course through her body, visions of Lamprey and the cult swirling in her mind. The other dragons notice her trembling, and Datura tries approaching her to calm her down, but without Tetra's translation Pearl assumes that this huge terrifying dragon is trying to capture her. The misunderstanding gets resolved thanks to Tetra's quick thinking - speaking "air-breather" language to Datura and aquatic to Pearl at the same time to explain the situation.

Pearl agrees to try to free Ice, but doesn't tell Tetra about her doubts with the whole "curing Pearl" part. The group gathers and Pearl formally and regally tells Ice that she is allowed to cast spells - in aquatic. Nothing happens. Tetra translates her words into "air-breather" language, but it still doesn't work. The chains remain as they were, Ice is still sealed. Ice is distraught, because this is yet another "Queen" that "didn't work". As soon as Tetra (hesitantly) translates this, Pearl is overcome by anger. What was her stupid role as a "Queen" even for, if it couldn't even help one single dragon? She tells Tetra in aquatic to say the words again in "air-breather", and the little blue dragon complies. Pearl, with all her might, sticks her head far out of the water, breathes in the air and tries to replicate the sounds. However, all that comes out is painful gurgling and choking. Ice, realizing that this poor little dragonet was hurting herself because of Ice's outburst, leaps forward and splashes Pearl with a wave of water, knocking her over and causing her to slip back underwater. Pearl isn't too pleased, but remembers how Tetra had done the same that night on the beach and concludes that Ice just wanted to help. But Pearl also just wanted to help. She feels awful every time she sees Tetra wince and grimace after the slightest movement of her broken wing. She asks what she should do now. The other three dragons are quiet, thinking. Datura perks up and asks the two dragonets if they could look for an animus dragon in the Seawing kingdom, perhaps in the royal court, while her and Ice would look for the Rainwing Queen. Pearl is unsure about going back into the same ocean she just fled from. But she also knows that the entire continent is at stake. After all, from what she heard about Icebreaker, that Icewing was probably planning to freeze the oceans with magic in her pursuit of the “perfect ice kingdom”. And then, Pearl and Tetra would have nowhere to run anyways. Pearl agrees, and Tetra agrees too. Datura continues with her plan: No matter if successful or not, the two parties would meet up again during the upcoming full moon in a safe harbor between the Seawing and Rainwing kingdom. The group agrees and prepares to go to sleep and leave early tomorrow. Pearl finds a calm pocket of water in the river with not too much flow and falls asleep, dreaming of her mother.

*

Book 4: Tetra

The next book would be in Tetra's point of view as she sits around a small fire with Datura and Ice, on that very same evening. Tetra asks Ice what an animus is actually capable of and if one could even cure Pearl's condition and make her breathe air on land just like all the other Seawings. Ice shrugs and says "Couldn't see why not", but Datura questions whether Pearl actually wants to be "cured" of the way she was born. After all, Datura has a similar problem of being burnt by the sun because of her skin, but she never thought about asking an animus for different skin. Tetra retorts that she wants her own wing to be cured so she can fly again, so why shouldn't Pearl wish to be able to breathe on land? Datura is unsure of what the right answer is, but tells her to ask Pearl before doing anything. Tetra reluctantly agrees, but is still sure that her view of the problem is correct. Or is she? Datura's words had put doubt into her mind.

In the morning, Tetra goes to find Pearl, who appears to be less enthusiastic about following through with the plan than she seemed yesterday. Pearl says that she thought about it and is worried that going to the royal court might be dangerous, because her existence alone would probably be treason in the actual Seawing Queen's eyes. Tetra hurriedly looks for a reason to bring Pearl along anyway and says nobody has to know about Pearl's identity, she can just use another name while they're there. Besides, the Seawings and their Queen wouldn't listen to just one dragon's words, Pearl would be an additional witness and could confirm that Tetra was saying the truth. Even better, Tetra remarks, while they're there, they sleuth around for Pearl's mother. It will be fun! Pearl reluctantly agrees, convinced by Tetra's last argument but still worried about the potential dangers of entering Seawing territory. There is also a lingering fear of running into Lamprey again, but that would be impossible, wouldn't it?

They embark on their way to the Seawing kingdom. Pearl enjoys swimming more and more and feels herself becoming stronger. Tetra is excited for her, but feels weighed down by her doubts about the whole "curing" thing. She is about to finally break down and just ask Pearl directly, when the two kids are suddenly ambushed by a Seawing patrol who are looking for a dragonet that fits Pearl's description. When questioned why, they don't answer. The two kids try swimming away, but Tetra's hurt wing slows her down and Pearl turns around to wait for her, causing both to get captured. They try to deny that the patrol found who they were looking for, until one of the soldiers reveals that the dragonet in question cannot breathe air. One grabs a protesting Tetra while another snatches Pearl and quickly swims upward with her, leaping out of the water and letting her dangle in the air. Tetra watches helplessly while Pearl tries her best to pretend to breathe, but she starts choking quickly while calling for her mother in aquatic. Satisfied, the soldiers dump her back into the water and prepare to make their way back to the palace. Tetra tries to explain why they were here and why finding an animus was extremely important for everyone's safety, but the soldiers tell her to shut up and that a stupid kid has nothing to say worth listening to. Tetra realises that her assumption that anyone would hear them out was childish and not only put Pearl's life in danger, but the entire continent as well.

They arrive at the Seawing palace and are dragged before the Queen. The very same Queen that had sent Tetra's father to his death by drafting him into war. To both Tetra's and Pearl's surprise, a badly injured Lamprey is lounging in the throne room and the Queen asks him if "this" (pointing at Pearl), "is her". Lamprey says yes, with a proudly puffed out chest and malice radiating from his eyes. He is promptly taken away, while some other soldiers drag Pearl along with them. Tetra screams at them to not put Pearl into a cage and to not let Lamprey anywhere near her, but nobody acknowledges her. Finally, the Queen's eyes set on her. Queen Agate of the Seawings asks Tetra who she is, where she came from and what she is doing here with "that", nodding into the direction Pearl was taken away. Tetra answers truthfully, explaining every detail from the first time she met Pearl to the moment the soldiers caught them after they split up with Datura and Ice. The Queen's eyes shift, and she asks for clarification. Datura, the current Sandwing Queen's daughter? Really? Tetra realizes that she had said something of interest and elaborates, embellishing the actual deepness of her friendship with Datura a little. Yes, Datura was banished by Sidewinder, whom everyone considers to be unworthy anyway, so it doesn't really count. Besides, the goal was to get Ice to cure Taipan, and Taipan would surely take Datura's side after seeing the disaster Sidewinder's incompetence caused. And Datura would surely tell her mother about the cause and gain the entire Sandwing kingdom's support. The Queen nods and proclaims that she needs time to think and to send Tetra "somewhere safe" in the meantime. Tetra asks if she would see Pearl again, but again, no one acknowledges her.

She is locked into a barren room with not much inside, so she sits down in front of the door, peeping through the keyhole to try and catch something, anything of interest. Finally some soldiers pass by, and Tetra can briefly see one flashing "...and the traitor will be executed..." at the other in aquatic. She panics and throws herself against the door, claws at the walls and whirls around the room like a tornado – in vain. Tetra finally sits down and cries until the soldiers come back to get her.

She is taken before the Queen again, encountering a familiar sight: Pearl, on the one side of the throne, held down by guards. Lamprey, on the other side, with some guards behind him. The Queen in the middle, staring Tetra right in the eyes. She then turns to Lamprey and tells him to state his case, again.

"My name is Lamprey", he says, "and I have simply been misguided. I was told that this dragonet", he points to Pearl, "was actually the true heir to the throne, so I believed it. I am but a humble servant of the Seawing kingdom and I would hate to see it threatened by a traitor trying to get her grubby fingers all over the throne that rightfully belongs to yours truly, Queen Agate."

"He's lying!", Tetra flashes as brightly as she can, but only earns a sharp look from Queen Agate.

"And so, I watched as this false Queen accumulated a horde of poor, misguided souls and fed them lies about the kingdom. She preyed on the weak-minded, convincing them that staying in the ocean would be the best course of action, just so she could feel better about her unfortunate disability." Lamprey wipes away an invisible tear, underwater. "I only snapped out of her manipulation after she ordered her followers to attack me and I have been nothing but truthful with you ever since, your highness. I gave your soldiers the locations of each site of worship as well as the names of every dragon who participated in this farce. It is truly an unfortunate situation, my Queen, yet I will trust your judgement when it comes to that little traitor."

Silence. "I have made my decision", the Queen says. "Your are correct, Lamprey, the traitor must indeed be dealt with. " She looks at Pearl and flicks her tail, and before anyone can react, one of the Seawing guards raises a dagger and stabs Lamprey in the back. Surprised, he whips around with his mouth wide open, producing a cloud of blood. "You have mistaken my kindness for stupidity, Lamprey," the Queen continues, "You have been, for years, actively gathering an enemy faction seeking to depose me. Yet you seem to think that simply offering me the very same pawns you created would make me forgive and forget your crimes." Lamprey fights against the blade in his flesh and attempts to lunge towards the Queen, but is held back by her soldiers. The Queen comes closer and stares down at him. "I'm old, Lamprey, but not senile. And did you seriously think I wouldn't recognize Sixgill's daughter?" And with that, Lamprey is gone and his limp body is taken away. Pearl and Tetra, stricken by fear and confusion, stand there like statues.

The Queen turns to them and announces her decision: Tetra will to go to the meeting point and take Datura and Ice to Queen Agate, who would not only attempt to allow Ice to use her magic, but also gather the animus dragons in the royal court to break the spell if her word alone wouldn't suffice. Of course, Tetra's hurt wing would also be taken care of. In return, Datura must agree to take over leadership in the Sandwing kingdom, kill Sidewinder if she resists and then enter an alliance with the Seawing kingdom. With Ice freed, the two kingdoms would then lead a joint attack on Icebreaker's forces and amicably split the spoils of war between them. Ice must agree to take away the Icewings' magic and then make a magical swear to never cast magic against any Seawing. To ensure Tetra, Datura and Ice would follow this plan, Pearl would stay with the Seawing Queen until every condition of her pact was fulfilled. Besides, she wouldn't be much of use on the surface anyway. Tetra perks up, remembering her idea to cure Pearl, while Pearl seems to become smaller and smaller. The Queen gives Tetra one of her lavishly engraved and decorated armbands as proof of her goodwill, a huge thing that the small dragonet wears like a necklace. "And since you have personally witnessed what I do to those who betray me", the Queen finishes, "I trust that you will fulfill your end of the bargain swiftly and efficiently." Tetra nods, confused, excited, happy and scared at the same time. She is unsure whether she can trust Queen Agate after what she did to break apart her family, but right now, Pearl and the future of the entire continent is more important. Tetra is allowed to say goodbye to Pearl and promises her to come back soon and "fix everything". Pearl too gives her one of her armbands, this time it perfectly fits around Tetra's wrist. She is then escorted to the shore by Seawing soldiers.

*

Book 5: No-one

Mandatory reading: X

This book would start out with a very short flashback of No-one being tested with the candle and swapping places with the other hatchling, dooming them to death.

It would then jump forward in time to No-one, now appearing to be a Rainwing, hanging out at the edge of the Rainwing territory. He notices an Icewing wearing glowing shackles and a pale Sandwing accompanying her. Curious about the clearly animus-touched chains, he decides to follow them. He overhears them talking about needing to find the Rainwing Queen. Sensing an opportunity to grant some wishes, he decides to take off his earring to reveal himself as not only a Skywing, but also an animus. His instinct was right: Datura the Sandwing immediately asks him to try and break the spell on the chains with desperation in her voice. The Icewing on the other hand eyes him with distrust. No-one reveals the nature of his contract to grant a wish. Datura and Ice are taken aback, with Ice even saying how "evil" this was. Their loss, No-one says, he's not dependent on them. But they certainly are dependent on him. He asks why they wanted to visit the Rainwing Queen. Begrudgingly they tell him the rest of the story. He watches Datura closely whenever it's Ice's turn to explain and tries copying what she does: furrowing his brows at the bad parts, widening his eyes at the surprising parts and shaking his head whenever Datura does. As soon as they're done explaining, he offers to take them to the Queen in his Rainwing appearance and ask her to break Ice's spell. On one condition: once they realize that the whole ordeal was a waste of time because the spell simply won't be broken, they will make a wish with No-one. They agree, partly because of No-one's perceived confidence that he will be able to break the spell. In reality, he isn't sure at all how this will turn out. He just wants to hang around with Datura some more.

Appearing as a Rainwing, he guides the two dragons through the Rainwing kingdom, curiously watched by a few real Rainwings, but mostly ignored. Once they reach the Queen, Ice and Datura are shocked about the Rainwing custom of just letting anyone who wants to be Queen fulfill the role for a month. Still, they continue with No-one's plan. The current Queen, a spunky young Rainwing named Bloom, greets them (after they've waited in line long enough). No-one tells Bloom that Ice is an animus who will grant her a wish once her magic chains are gone. All Bloom needs to do is tell her that she's allowed to cast spells. Bloom is excited, but quickly finds that she can't decide on a wish: She wants a flower necklace that changes colors to match her scales, she wants an earring that will whisper to her where the best sun spots are, she also wants a magic satchel that will always contain the most delicious fruit whenever she reaches into it. One wish just wouldn't be enough! No-one, knowing Bloom's love for bets and games, tells her that Ice will grant all her wishes, but only on the condition that Bloom wins against Ice, Datura and No-one in a series of Rainwing games. If Bloom loses, she will only get one wish. In a sense, Bloom cannot lose at all, since she will get at least one wish granted in either outcome! Ice gets increasingly more agitated as No-one keeps deciding these things over her head. Bloom thinks for a moment, glances at Ice's chains and Datura's rigid looking Sandwing body and finally agrees. The games, clearly hand picked by Bloom to disadvantage Ice and Datura as much as possible, begin. They try to work together to win, but Ice's chains keep getting caught on every branch while climbing and Datura's wings are just too huge to beat Bloom in a gliding race through the dense rainforest. Only No-one, using his animus magic to cheat, narrowly secures the win. Ice and Datura notice, but decide to keep quiet. Bloom is disappointed but keeps up her end of the bargain, formally announcing that Ice is allowed to cast spells again. It doesn't work. Ice breaks down, unable to accept yet another failure. She screams that it obviously didn't work because Bloom isn't a real Queen since anyone can just become Rainwing Queen for a month. Three moons, why don't they try making a sloth Queen next? Or maybe a chewed-on mango? This angers Bloom and the other Rainwings. “And how come your system is the correct one?”, she naps back. “How is murdering your own family to become Queen any better, huh?” No-one tries to diffuse the situation but ultimately, the trio has to leave the kingdom.

On their way out, Ice tells No-one that she wants to make a wish with him to break the spell. Datura protests, pointing out that No-one will damage her already hurt soul even further, but Ice does not care and wants to go through with it again. Datura interjects again, saying that she will instead make a wish for No-one to heal her poisoned mother, Taipan. Taipan is, for all intents and purposes, a real Queen. No technicalities, no strange Rainwing customs, no nonsense. Ice objects, not wanting Datura to sell her soul for her. After all, Ice is too far gone anyways. Isn't it obvious? After her last outburst that would've gotten them killed if the Rainwings were just a little bit more like the other dragon tribes? Ice's soul is crumbling, so one more enchantment won't make much of a difference. Datura looks to No-one for support, but he has no idea what to say. But for some reason, he really wants Datura to think highly of him, so he agrees with her argument: They will first try Taipan and only then let No-one attempt to break the spell with Ice's appearance. But before any of that, Datura remarks, they need to meet with Tetra and Pearl in their agreed meeting spot. Maybe the two Seawings have found a better solution?

That night, they seek refuge in a small cave. As Datura is fast asleep, Ice approaches No-one and tells him to break the spell right now, no matter the cost. No-one thinks about it. On the one talon, he wants Datura's approval, and Datura said no. On the other talon, he's always up for more appearances. For some reason, another one of his favorites recently disappeared. Besides, Datura doesn't need to know, right? They can just pretend that the magic on the chains...wore off, right? Or maybe Icebreaker had choked to death on a seal bone, and that broke the spell overnight? No-one follows through with Ice's request, touches her with his earring and seals the deal. He then concentrates all his power on the chains, telling them to break, telling them to release the magic they contain, telling them to reverse Ice's spell. The chains continue to shine bright blue, not reacting to anything. No-one is secretly offended that Ice's magic seems to be stronger than his own. Ice then asks him if he can try giving her “new” powers by “making her an animus”, but that doesn’t work as well. Somehow, the chains seem to prevent any magic entering or leaving Ice’s body. Ice seems frustrated, but doesn't have another outburst like in the Rainwing kingdom. Instead, she just looks tired and defeated. Ice and No-one agree to not tell Datura about any of this, for their own reasons.

The next day, they travel towards the meeting spot. No-one asks Datura what it's like to live in the Sandwing kingdom, and to everyone's surprise switches his appearance to a Sandwing. Datura, instead of being impressed or maybe even slightly more interested in No-one, accusingly asks who this is. No-one, realizing he did something bad, switches back to one of his Rainwings and explains that the Sandwing was some random bandit he stumbled upon, a really bad guy who wished for a lot of treasure because he was just so greedy. Datura, more or less convinced, drops the topic. As soon as they reach the meeting spot, they bump into Tetra just as she emerges from the ocean, not with Pearl, but with a group of Seawing soldiers. Ice, Datura and No-one are wary at first, but then Tetra explains the situation. The Seawing soldiers stay back to let them speak in private and Tetra presents the Queen's armband. Datura is worried about Pearl while Ice is angry about yet another decision that was made over her head. "So the Seawing Queen offers to release my magic, just for me to seal myself away again?" Tetra points out that she just needs to promise not to hurt any Seawings, which should be reasonable, but is interrupted by Ice who tells her that she's just a kid who doesn't understand the bigger picture. As the situation tenses up, Ice apologizes and explains how they just suffered another failure with Queen Bloom (leaving out Ice's wish with No-one) and that she's terrified of not being able to stop Icebreaker in time. Tetra seems understanding and assures her that everything will be fine with Queen Agate at their side, leaving out her own reluctance about the whole situation - her father is still on her mind. Maybe she just wants to convince herself.

Datura thinks loudly about how an alliance with the Seawings could help when it comes down to numbers. Icebreaker's army may not be big, but their magic would probably make each Icewing as dangerous as ten Sandwings. Ice agrees, painfully aware of what spells are circulating in the army, having tested most of them herself. There's also the question of Pearl: What will Queen Agate do with her if they don't agree to her conditions? After some more talking, Datura calls over the Seawings and asks them to relay a message to Queen Agate: Datura agrees to join forces with the Seawings, but urgently needs to travel back home to her sick mother first and cannot wait for a meeting with Agate. Ice will accompany her for her own safety and later meet Agate and her soldiers at the same river that Pearl and Tetra used to travel into the continent. There, the Sandwings and the Seawings will form a stand against Icebreaker's army. She leaves out their plan to heal Taipan to try and break the spell without Agate's help. And the Rainwing? Oh, that's just our forest guide. We bribed him with mangoes. He has nothing to do with this. The Seawings agree and leave to pass on the message.

Datura, Ice, No-one and Tetra are left to figure out their next steps. Tetra asks No-one to heal her wing so she wouldn't be a burden to them, and he does under Datura's and Ice's watchful eyes. She then asks if he can somehow show her how Pearl is doing, and he enchants a puddle to do exactly that, still using Tetra's appearance. Pearl seems fine, but she's surrounded by unfamiliar dragons. Tetra then tells him about her plan to heal Pearl from whatever affliction is keeping her from breathing air. Datura raises her concerns again, but is ignored by the overexcited little Seawing. Tetra raises her arm, showing No-one Pearl's armband and asks him if he can enchant it to make Pearl breathe air. He obliges, still appearing as Tetra. As for her final wish, she asks him to magically transport the armband onto Pearl's arm. He does. Looking into the puddle, they see the armband appear on Pearl, and as soon as it does, Pearl's eyes widen, her gills flutter, her little hands shoot up to her throat, bubbles gushing out of her nose and mouth. "What's wrong?", Tetra screams, realizing too late that No-one's spell was literal. No-one panics, bringing back the bracelet onto Tetra's arm. Pearl calms down, seemingly breathing normally again. No-one removes the enchantment from the puddle and reaches for Tetra's armband to do the same, but she backs away from his grasp. "I want to keep it", she says. "You do? After almost killing her with it?", Ice asks. "I want her to have the choice.", Tetra retorts and ends the discussion, not acknowledging that she has already taken that choice away from Pearl.

The group then sits down to figure out a way to get into the Sandwing kingdom, get past Sidewinder and heal Taipan. Tetra, feeling that she has to prove herself after her latest screw-up, offers an idea.

*

Book 6: Sidewinder

The last book would be from Sidewinder's perspective. A full scale war is about to break out before her doorstep and she hasn't slept properly in weeks. She tries to avoid her fellow Sandwings, because every time one runs into her, she gets barraged with more problems. The soldiers are running out of rations. The scouts still aren't back. The weapon shipment is late. Sidewinder has no idea what to do about that. About any of this. This isn't what she imagined it would be like, to finally be in charge with Datura and her mother out of the picture. Advisors pop up here and there, but their advice boils down to "step down and let an actual adult handle this" sooner or later. Her aunt Hognose, Taipan's younger sister, even insinuates that she's about to challenge Sidewinder (and Taipan, indirectly) for the throne. Taipan would have her head for this, if she knew. But Taipan isn't here right now.

Devastating news hits: a troop of Sandwings Sidewinder sent to patrol the border to the Icewing territory had been wiped out by a mere handful of Icewings. Only one survivor managed to crawl back and relay the horrors: when the Icewings attacked, they brought storm clouds and snow with them, their spears finding their way into Sandwing hearts, their scales effortlessly deflecting poisonous tail barbs as if made of diamond. "They were showing off", the survivor coughs weakly, "They didn't even use their ice breath."

Before Sidewinder can even react, more news hits: Her sister Datura was seen entering the Sandwing territory from the other side and immediately captured. Sidewinder perks up. Datura is back! Datura was smart when it came to things like this. Datura always did her history homework and sometimes stayed up late reading battle reports in the library. Datura will know what to do. Sidewinder orders her soldiers to bring Datura to the stronghold immediately and runs outside to greet her. It's a strange sight: the soldiers are dragging her limp sister forward like she weighs nothing and she doesn't even protest. She's wearing a strange golden armband Sidewinder has never seen before and she's missing her glasses and her veil. Sidewinder almost feels sorry for her and is about to bend down for a hug, until she remembers how their last meeting ended. Betrayal. "How dare you leave me like this!", Sidewinder hisses, but Datura barely acknowledges her. "How dare you leave your kingdom! Do you know how many soldiers we already lost? Do you know how hard it was to keep everything together on my own? And you just left me here to go play with your friend- wait, where is she? Where's that creepy Icewing with the chains?" Datura still doesn't answer. "Answer me, before I drive my stinger into your skull!", Sidewinder screams. Only then does Datura look up and say, with a voice that is not her own, "Wow. You really are a terrible sister."

While Sidewinder is distracted, Ice, Datura, and No-one disguised as a Sandwing sneak into the stronghold to heal Taipan. No-one assumes Datura's form to fulfill her wish and casts a spell on her mother. It seems like it doesn't work at first, but then Taipan opens her eyes. Datura seizes the moment right before her mother freaks out and explains the situation. Taipan, too weak to be angry about any of this, agrees to try and free Ice under a similar condition as Queen Agate's: Ice must make a magic oath to never use her magic against Sandwings (or Seawings) again. Ice retorts that she will take the oath in front of Taipan and Agate once they have defeated Icebreaker, which Taipan is fine with. She royally announces to Ice that she is now free to make spells, right as Sidewinder bursts in with guards. The chains don't react though, Ice's magic is still sealed. Silence falls over the room. Sidewinder stares at the two Daturas, unsure which one to scream at. The guards move forward to arrest the strange Icewing in their Queen's quarters, but are stopped by Taipan who reaffirms her authority as the ruler of the Sandwings. Sidewinder watches as the guards are dismissed, feeling her own authority slip away all the same. This is it. She's done. She's not needed anymore.

As her mother turns towards her, she anticipates a scolding for all the things Sidewinder screwed up during her "reign", if you could even call it that. Instead, Taipan thanks her and says that Sidewinder likely did the best she could do in such a situation. Bewildered, Sidewinder stares at her mother, ultimately unable to accept her affection. "Now that your favorite daughter is back, I'm clearly not needed anymore", she scoffs, "She's probably dying to tell you in great detail what a terrible leader I was, so keep your praises." With that, she storms out of the room. As she runs through the stronghold, she sees how quickly the news of the Queen's comeback has spread. Excited whispers in every corner, heads held up higher, brows furrowed and eyes shining with newfound confidence. Sidewinder feels sick. She leaps out onto a balcony, the very same one she taunted Datura from after banishing her. Sidewinder sits down to cry, but is interrupted by her sister.

She tries to antagonize Datura, but all that anger from before is gone, only sadness and exhaustion remain. The two sisters share a hug as Datura tells her that she missed her, despite everything. Sidewinder apologizes for banishing her, which Datura accepts. She tells Datura how she always felt sidelined while Taipan fussed over Datura due to her condition, as if Sidewinder didn't matter to her at all. Datura points out that whenever Taipan wasn’t fussing over her, she spent her time with Sidewinder, doing all the fun things Datura wasn’t allowed to do due to her condition: fight training in the blazing sun, hunting for food in the desert, visiting different parts of the kingdom to check on her people, and so on. After all, Taipan loves them equally, but she had to treat the sisters differently due to their different needs. Sidewinder understands. They sit in silence for a while as Sidewinder feels all the tension, hurt, anger and sleepless nights fade away, even if just for a moment. Datura then tells Sidewinder that Taipan has summoned everyone to the war room to plan the next steps, and asks Sidewinder to come. She agrees and the two sisters enter Taipan's war room, a huge space with a giant table in the middle, covered in maps and small dragon figurines. A complimentary bowl of dried lizards sits on the table. Taipan sits at the table, along with a few important Sandwing generals. Ice and No-one are also present, the latter assuming the form of a Sandwing. Sidewinder immediately notices that something is off about him, as he doesn't carry himself like a proper Sandwing would. He doesn't even curl his tail tip properly, for three moons' sake! Tetra sits in a bucket of water in the corner, shooting a glare towards Sidewinder and shaking her head at her. Sidewinder has no idea what she did wrong.

Taipan tells Datura to tell them everything, and Datura does. She retells her adventure with Ice, their meeting with Pearl and Tetra, their discovery of No-one and Queen Agate's deal. She finishes at the point where they attempted to break Ice's spell with Taipan, and formally turns to No-one to ask him to break the spell with his magic. No-one and Ice share a look that Sidewinder knows all too well: they screwed up something. Ice then explains that they already tried when Datura was sleeping, that it didn't work and that they were so sure that Taipan could break the spell that they decided to not tell Datura because they didn’t want her to be mad at them. Datura is angry that she was lied to, but doesn't push it further.. Instead, one of the generals speaks up: If those two lied to Datura about such an important thing, who are they even loyal to? That Icewing may say she’s part Sandwing to gain our sympathy, but she might as well still be loyal to the Icewings. And nobody knows who or what No-one even is, let alone what his motives are. Datura says that she's been travelling with them for weeks, that she could rely on both in difficult situations and that she trusts them. But the generals want to hear it straight out of the horse's mouth. Ice grabs her chain and slams her shackled wrists on the table. "Everything I ever did since escaping Icebreaker was to try and free myself. I want to free myself to stop Icebreaker, because this war is entirely my fault. If I never existed, Icebreaker wouldn't have a giant magic army right now. My loyalties couldn't be further away from that wretched Icewing. Or any Icewing, for that matter." Satisfied, the generals turn to No-one, who turns to Datura. Datura combines a raised eyebrow with a claw gesture, in a "go on, say something" kind of way. No-one takes off his earring, revealing to the generals (and Sidewinder) that he's a Skywing. He says that he's been on the run from the Skywing kingdom all his life, because, as everyone knows, Skywings kill animi when they're discovered. He's been travelling all over Pyrrhia since, always hiding his true identity and never making any real connections. He also admits that he never really cared about other dragons and always acted in his own selfish interest - until he met Datura. He's been helping her and Ice, at first just to gain more appearances, but then even beyond that. He could've left after Ice made a wish with him, or after Tetra’s wish, or even Datura’s wish. But he didn’t, and he wants to understand why. Sticking around and helping the Sandwings further might help him understand someday. The generals and especially Taipan are less impressed with that answer, so Taipan asks Datura to personally vouch for No-one, trusting her daughter’s judgement. Datura does, and the discussion moves on.

Since they couldn't free Ice with Taipan or No-one, it was safe to assume that Agate and her animi would likely be a bust as well. Still, they needed the additional support from the Seawing army to have any chance of winning in a fight. There was also another advantage – well, two, actually. For one, Icebreaker has no idea that the Sandwings have Ice. She may be a cruel, cruel dragon, but Ice is still her granddaughter, if that even means anything to her. If not, it's safe to assume that she'd at least want her animus maker back, because she hopefully respects her (pure) Icewing subjects too much to give Ice's role to one of them. On the other talon, they have something that Icebreaker definitely would not expect: No-one. Now they need to combine these little advantages into something tangible that could actually stop Icebreaker's conquest. Taipan calls for a break and tells everyone to get some fresh air to stimulate their brains.

Sidewinder watches as Ice walks over to Tetra's bucket and puts her forearms into the water, clearly uncomfortable with the heat and dry air of the desert. Tetra scoops up some more water with her webbed talons and pours it over Ice's head. Meanwhile, the Sandwing army generals discuss something with Taipan, who's trying to keep up a tough appearance, but her talons shake slightly as she reaches into the lizard bowl. Datura calls over her friends (and Sidewinder) and offers to take them on a little tour of the stronghold. Sidewinder has a quiet chat with No-one, where she asks him if he really told the truth earlier. He says that he did, but he doesn’t know how else to prove it. Sidewinder tells him that whatever happens next, he should do everything in his (magic) power to protect Datura. That’s how he’ll prove it. The two then rejoin the group. Sidewinder, still thinking about how Datura wasn’t allowed to do the “fun things” as a dragonet, suggests a friendly game of “Sting-you”, a traditional Sandwing game that requires all players to cover their tail barbs with a special covering and then run around in teams to “sting” each other with their tails. Whoever is “stung” has to fall to the ground and be “dead” until a teammate arrives to help them up. Whichever team is left with the last “living” player wins. Tetra doesn’t want to play because she’d want to have Pearl on her team and would be the odd one out, so it’s between team red (Datura and No-one) and team blue (Sidewinder and Ice). Team blue narrowly wins. The group has a laugh and eventually returns to the war room, where Taipan and the generals are already studying maps on the table. Taipan greets the group and reaches into the lizard bowl.

"Icebreaker.", she says after she's done with the lizard. Even though her voice is still weak, everyone immediately turns to listen. "Based on Ice's intel and what the scouts managed to find out, she is not interested in diplomacy. She doesn't care about our territories or our resources. She just wants to unleash a second, magic-induced scorching onto Pyrrhia and rule over the ashes. Or the ice and snow, for that matter." Everyone nods in agreement.

"That's why we will kill her."

Palpable tension covers the room as soon as the word "kill" leaves her mouth. Datura, No-one, Tetra and even Sidewinder look over to Ice. "But what will happen to Ice’s shackles if Icebreaker...", Sidewinder begins, but doesn't finish the sentence when everyone turns to look at her. Ice has a strange look on her face that Sidewinder doesn't understand.

"We will have to lure her out first. I suggest we send her a message and tell her that we have Ice, and that we want to discuss a peace treaty directly with the Icewing Queen. Obviously she's not interested in peace, but she'll hopefully want to see Ice. Maybe she's already covered in all sorts of magic artifacts that protect her from harm, so she's probably feeling confident and untouchable. And this will be her mistake. You, animus." Taipan turns to No-one. "If one can give a dragon magic, one can also take it away, correct?"

"I...think?", No-one says. "I've never tried it before."

"Try it now. It is of utmost importance.", Taipan says. No-one looks around the room helplessly while every other dragon avoids his gaze like hatchlings who don't want to be called on by the teacher. Nobody wants to risk their soul for an experiment. Ice is ruled out by default, Tetra is just a kid whom nobody wants to harm, which would leave Datura and Sidewinder. Sidewinder steps up: "Make me an animus. I'll enchant something small to see if it works, then you undo everything." Datura protests, saying it's too dangerous, but Sidewinder doesn't want to hear it. "I've screwed up enough already. Just let me do one good thing here." After some discussion, No-one lays his hands on her and gives her magic. Sidewinder immediately feels a strange tingling in her claws. To see if it works, she looks around to find something small to enchant and lands on Datura's sunglasses, offering to make them unbreakable. Datura gives her the glasses and Sidewinder enchants them. She then violently throws them against the nearest wall, stomps on them and tries snapping them in half for good measure, but the glasses are unharmed. Sidewinder likes this power. But before she can do more, No-one picks up a dried lizard and enchants it to take away Sidewinder's magic if he snaps it in half. He snaps it in half (and then throws it into his mouth), and the tingling in her claws immediately stops. She feels a mix of disappointment and relief, knowing that she'd definitely be the type to quickly corrupt her soul with this kind of power. No-one suddenly makes a weird face, and his Sandwing appearance seems to phase in and out of existence, his Skywing appearance flickering underneath. He panics and reaches for his earring, shifting to one of his Rainwings instead. “What in the three moons was that?”, Taipan exclaims. No-one explains that sometimes, his appearances fade for no apparent reason. Ice asks whether it has something to do with how much he used them for enchantments or maybe how powerful the enchantments were and No-one shrugs, he’s not really keeping track of any of that. Tetra asks how many he has left and he starts cycling through 3 Rainwings, another Skywing, a Mudwing and then Ice, Tetra and Datura. “Huh”, he says, "I thought I had more left.” Tetra asks what will happen to the real versions if their appearances in his earring fade, but he doesn’t know. Taipan waves it off, they’ll deal with this later.

Now that it's proven that magic can be taken away, the planning can continue. Tetra, from her bucket, offers to meet the Seawings at the river and lead them to a spot in the Sandwing territory where they can prepare for the fight. The others agree, saying that Tetra should be kept safe and away from the Icewings (and she'd be useless in a fight anyways). Datura offers to represent the Sandwing kingdom together with Sidewinder, since Taipan is in no shape to leave the stronghold. Taipan doubts whether Icebreaker would come out of hiding if she saw that the actual Sandwing Queen isn't there to meet her, only her daughters. Maybe she'd even see it as a sign of weakness and attack immediately. Tetra holds up the armband Sidewinder saw on the "fake Datura" earlier and says that one of the sisters should use it to appear as Taipan. If it fooled Sidewinder, it would definitely fool Icebreaker. And now that No-one is on a tight budget when it comes to appearances, it would be better to work with what they already have. Datura and Sidewinder look at each other, unsure who should bear this responsibility. On the one talon, if Datura did it, she'd have to go without her veil and sunglasses, because Taipan definitely doesn't wear those and it would raise suspicion. On the other talon, Sidewinder is unsure whether she can pretend to be a convincing Queen, after her failure as "temporary Queen". Taipan flat out asks Sidewinder if she will do it, and she says yes. 

The planning continues. Taipan will send a message to Icebreaker, telling her that she has Ice, who's still wearing the magic-sealing chains, and asking her to meet. Datura and Sidewinder (disguised as Taipan) will bring Ice to the meeting spot (which will be close to the river the Seawings are hiding in), accompanied by some guards. No-one will be among them, disguised as a Sandwing guard. When Icebreaker is close enough, No-one will snap two enchanted twigs in his mouth: one will stop Icebreaker's heart (a spell that they can't test beforehand, for obvious reasons), one will take away the magic from all Icewings nearby as well as their enchanted objects. Because nobody knows how far the spell will reach, it is important to get as many Icewings as possible to be near Icebreaker, which will be achieved by placing a battalion of Sandwings in visible (but not threatening) distance away from the meeting spot. If the spell to kill Icebreaker fails, at least the magic will be gone and the Sandwing guards, all highly trained, will kill Icebreaker - with No-one's magic help, if necessary. Either way, the Seawing and Sandwing army will attack the weakened Icewings at once to push them back into their frosty habitat. Ice, Sidewinder, Datura and No-one will escape back to the castle, protected by the attacking armies. Taipan and Agate will handle the rest from there.

Taipan dismisses the group for now to begin preparations. Datura offers her friends to stay over in her room, as it’s big enough for everyone. (Tetra brings her bucket.) She also invites Sidewinder to this sleepover. The latter remembers how the two of them used to do these all the time as dragonets. Datura tells everyone to get settled while she finds some comfy rugs the other dragons can sleep on. Tetra notices that Ice looks down and asks what’s wrong, but Ice says that she’s fine. Sidewinder asks whether this is about killing Icebreaker and Ice winces. She confesses that she’s terrified of being stuck in chains and sealed away forever if Icebreaker dies. No-one suggests that killing her might also break the spell. There might be at least a tiny chance. Ice laughs and says that it doesn’t matter anyways, the decision wasn’t in her hands anymore and she’s only left to hope for a minuscule chance of gaining a happy end out of this. Sidewinder loudly reflects upon her own desire to make decisions – she wanted to become a leader so badly, but once it happened, she was suddenly making decisions that would affect an entire kingdom and that terrified her. Ice listens, and something about that seems to make her think. Tetra says that there’s still the option of Agate and her animi, but Ice just shakes her head and asks to drop the topic before Datura returns. The group has a little sleepover party with snacks and Sandwing board games before it’s time to sleep. In the dead of night, Sidewinder opens one eye and sees Ice standing at the window, staring outside with a blank facial expression. Sidewinder silently watches for a bit and then begins to fall asleep again. Just before she’s gone, she hears Ice and No-one quietly whisper something to each other.

Hard cut to the next day. Sidewinder, disguised as Taipan, stands next to Datura. In front of them lies Ice, chains wrapped around her arms and a rope tied around her snout. Behind the trio, mere steps away, five Sandwing guards, two of them looking awfully similar to each other. In the distance, a small figure leaves the sea of white spikes and wings and tails. Icebreaker, accompanied by guards of her own, walks over to them, her eyes piercing, her smile anything but warm. She breathes in deeply, and then breathes out a cold sigh that chills Sidewinder to the bone. 

“My oh my”, Icebreaker says. “What a predicament you’ve found yourself in.” The words are aimed at Ice, but somehow Sidewinder feels them hitting her own heart as well, making it skip a beat. 

Icebreaker’s gaze rises up to meet Sidewinder’s. “It’s been a while, Taipan. I hoped we’d meet again under more savory circumstances, but alas.” Sidewinder ignores Icebreaker’s deliberate omission of any kind of formality one would expect when addressing a Queen. 

“I’m here to talk about your plans.”, Sidewinder says. “You’ve been gathering an army near our border. What for?”

Icebreaker ignores the question: “Oh, but first, you gotta let me in on your secret.” 

“M-my secret?”, Sidewinder asks. Icebreaker continues: “I’ve met Sandwings your age, and they all sound so dreadfully harsh and raspy. I always assumed it’s that dry desert air. How did you manage to keep such a pleasant and youthful voice?” 

“Honey-glazed cobra cutlets”, Sidewinder answers while trying to hide her panic, “keeps the throat fresh. I would invite you to try some, but we have other matters to attend to.” Icebreaker closes her eyes and nods slowly and meaningfully. “Right, of course. I couldn’t help but notice that you have my granddaughter with you today. I hope she didn’t cause you too much trouble?” “Splendid. May I come closer to have a chat?” This is the moment everyone has been waiting for. Icebreaker makes a step, then hesitates. “Lemming”, she says with her head slightly turned towards the group of Icewings behind her. One of them jumps, then quickly stammers the following: “I enchant the enemy’s animus-touched objects to come to me!” Before anyone can react, Agate’s armband flies off Sidewinder’s arm, followed by Datura’s glasses and No-one’s earring. Lastly, the two sticks, still wet from his spit. Icebreaker’s eyes widen, then she composes herself. “Much better”, she says, studying the “new arrivals”, Sidewinder and No-one. “Taipan’s dead, isn’t she?”, she asks, “I did hear about the terrible poisoning. Why else would the Sandwings be led by these pathetic little children trying to play tricks on me?” Icebreaker steps closer. One step. Another step. So do the Icewing soldiers. They are surrounded. Datura looks to Sidewinder, who’s muscles seem to be frozen in place. Nobody moves, until –

Somehow, Ice had removed the rope from her snout and screams: “Icebreaker!!!” Her voice makes the Icewing Queen stop dead in her tracks. “You poor soul.”, she says coldly. “Have you had your share of fun running around with these creatures? Have you had enough?” 

“I have”, Ice yells, “You were right. You were right all along. Everything beyond the Icewing kingdom is just a lawless wasteland. Seawings with multiple Queens, Rainwings who let just about anyone rule without question and tyrannical Sandwings who kept passing me around like some kind of bargaining chip!” 

“Ice–” Datura says sharply, but Icebreaker interrupts her. “Oh, no, let her speak.” 

“They treated me like trash”, Ice continues, wriggling towards Icebreaker as quickly as she can with her bound limbs. “They’re enemies, all of them. None deserve to stand between you and your perfect frozen continent.” 

“Correct.”, Icebreaker says with a content smile. 

“And those items you took from them were meant to kill you!”, Ice hisses. She’s now at Icebreaker’s feet. “All this time they were plotting to end your life. But unluckily for them, I’ve been plotting too. A spell that could end this war before it even started.” “I’m intrigued.”, Icebreaker says, unable to hide her excitement about a new spell. For some reason, her Icewing subjects weren’t big fans of experimenting with magic while Ice was gone. 

“Do it. I allow it.”

Ice’s chains instantly lose their cold blue glow, appearing like regular metal chains. Ice turns towards Sidewinder, Datura and No-one. “This is for my enemy. My captor. My tormentor.

Die.” 

Icebreaker’s eyes widen, her hands shoot up to her throat. She falls to the ground, convulsing. “And you.” Ice turns towards the Icewings. “None of you Icewings will ever use magic again!” Dark clouds accumulate in the sky above them all, and thunder begins to rumble. Ice looks down at her hands, her mouth moves and the chains fall off, disintegrating into dust.

“Ice!”, Datura screams and leaps forward, but Sidewinder holds her back. Ice looks back at them one last time before a flash of lightning descends from the sky, striking the earth. Ice disappears, with only smoke and a black stain on the ground where she stood just moments ago. The Icewings are shocked at first, then charge into battle to avenge their Queen who has now stopped moving. Sidewinder signals the Sandwings to attack and prepares to retreat. Datura is still standing there screaming Ice’s name, so Sidewinder drags her along. No-one enchants the magic items to come back and his earring flies into his open palm while the rest of the items get trampled by the Icewing soldiers. He puts on the earring and switches to his Sandwing appearance.

The guards do their best to shield the trio from the oncoming Icewing onslaught, but are quickly overwhelmed. An Icewing aims his ice breath at Datura, so No-one spits a mouthful of fire in his face. Another tries to stab Sidewinder with a spear, she ducks underneath and buries her stinger into his throat. A group tries to cut them off, so No-one enchants the rocks beneath them to shoot upwards and launch the soldiers into the air. Datura has a hard time seeing in the harsh light without her glasses, so both Sidewinder and No-one guide her through the battlefield. The latter turns the ground behind them into quicksand, enchants the Icewing spears to turn against them and hits them with anything else he can come up with. Suddenly, his Sandwing guard appearance flickers and disappears, right as the real guard’s throat is slashed by Icewing blades. No-one switches to one of his Rainwings and continues casting spells, but soon, this one also disappears. One by one, his appearances start to flicker and fade, and he hesitates, almost getting hit by a flash of ice breath.

“Use ours!”, Datura screams as Sidewinder whips around to sting another Icewing. He catches her tail in his hand and buries his serrated talons in it. She roars and Datura spits fire in his face until he lets go. No-one switches to Tetra and fires off another enchantment, then to Ice, another enchantment, then to Datura. A spear hits him in the shoulder and ice breath grazes the tip of his tail. He heals his injuries with magic and carries on. Suddenly, an Icewing manages to rip off the earring and crush it between his teeth, destroying the illusion and revealing No-one’s Skywing form. He tries to retaliate with fire, but another soldier hits him with his weapon, throwing off his aim. Then, out of nowhere, another spear flies through the air and hits Datura straight in the throat, piercing it entirely. She lets out a silent scream that turns into a gurgle as blood spews forth. “NO!”, Sidewinder screams and No-one dashes towards Datura, ripping out the spear with one hand and closing the wound with the other - his first enchantment he did as “himself” in years. He then hurls the spear back where it came from and it pierces something, someone, creating a blue fountain. But the Icewings just keep on coming. All hope seems to be lost, when suddenly, the Seawings arrive, attacking the surprised Icewings from the side. It’s this critical moment that allows the trio to finally escape more or less unharmed.

*

Epilogue

The war between the Icewings and Sandwings (now aided by the Seawings) wages on. Queen Taipan and Queen Agate need to negotiate new terms, now that Ice has disappeared without a trace and Datura didn’t assume leadership of the Sandwings. Sidewinder aids Taipan in any way she can, gaining knowledge and confidence in the process. Tetra leaves to go find Pearl again, who has been given a new identity and reunited with her parents thanks to Agate. The two kids have a lot to discuss. No-one, scared of becoming like Ice, refuses to do any more enchantments for this war and tries to leave the stronghold in the middle of the night. He casts a spell to make Datura’s glasses reappear in his hands and plans to drop them off by her door as a goodbye gift. Before he can do that, he runs into her. She was also about to leave on an entirely different journey to find Ice (fiercely believing that she’s still alive and out there somewhere). She knows that her mother would not approve of her leaving, but what else is she to do in the kingdom? Be Queen? Sidewinder’s there for that. The two agree to leave together and send Taipan and Sidewinder messages every so often.

And that’s how it ends.

*

Thank you so much for reading through the entire thing! As noted in the title, this is just a first draft and also the first time someone other than me reads this – so of course I expect you to find plot holes, inconsistent character moments and other stuff I could improve on. If you're nice about it, maybe I'll even listen ;) (joking) No matter what, I hope this serves as a (more or less) satisfying conclusion for all my WOF characters you know (and love?).

[septembercfawkes]

How to Convert Exposition into Ammunition

Exposition is all the facts and information conveyed to the audience. It's facts about the setting, the worldbuilding, the characters, the current situation, the history, the magic or technology, or anything else that is straight-up information. Every story needs some exposition, but for all of us, it's been tricky to handle at one point or another.

One of the quickest ways to tell a beginning writer from an experienced writer, is how he or she handles exposition. Beginners often cram in too much too fast, leading to poor pacing, info-dumps, or maid-and-butler dialogue. Professional writers know how to expertly weave exposition into the story, so that the audience is fed information without hardly noticing it.

Last year, I did a post on how to use turning points to help you discern what info to put in and what info to leave out, when. I mentioned that in his famous book, Story, Robert McKee has a maxim: "Convert exposition into ammunition."

It sounds great, right?

But like some of the most meaningful writing advice, it can be difficult to wrap your head around. 

It sounds great, but like . . . how does one actually do that? And what does that actually mean?

Luckily, McKee does expound a bit on what he means, and today I'd like to expound on what he means by offering my own spin on it.

As McKee points out, "Show, don't tell" is key for exposition--we want to find ways to dramatize the information. Okay, great, chances are if you're reading my blog, you already know that. Still, it's often helpful to start with what you know.

McKee writes:

Dramatized exposition serves two ends: Its primary purpose is to further the immediate conflict. Its secondary purpose is to convey information. The anxious novice reverses that order, putting expositional duty ahead of dramatic necessity.

This is the part I want to emphasize: Its primary purpose is to further the immediate conflict.

Summed up into one simple line, this is what it means to turn exposition into ammunition.

But don't worry, I won't leave you with only that.

Cause if you know me, I like to go deep . . . 

Load the Ammunition! Exposition as an Asset or Problem

Ammunition is meant to be shot, dropped, or detonated.

It's not something you use during peaceful circumstances (unless, of course, the peaceful circumstance is just covering up a silent struggle).

Because we want to connect the exposition to the current conflict, this means that one of two (or both) battling forces is loaded with the ammunition.

The protagonist.

Or the antagonist.

And when I say "antagonist," I'm not just talking about the main "bad guy." 

The antagonistic force is whatever is opposing the protagonist in the pursuit of his goal. So while there is often a main antagonist, there will actually be lots and lots and lots of lesser antagonists. A rock may be an antagonist. A computer. A storm. A substance. A mouse. (Read more about this in "The True Purpose of Antagonists.")

Furthermore, the protagonist of a scene may not always be the main protagonist of the story (but more on that in a sec).

The protagonist is someone the audience is oriented toward (often the viewpoint character), who is pursuing a goal.

So, to simplify, the protagonist pursues a goal, and the antagonistic force opposes that.

This is what creates true conflict, which may or may not include flying fists or shouting matches. Conflict is simply the protagonist struggling to pursue the goal because of the antagonist.

When the protagonist is loaded with ammunition, it's an asset. He aims it at the antagonist to get the obstacle out of his way.

When the antagonist is loaded with ammunition, it's a problem. He (or it) aims it at the protagonist to get the protagonist out of the way.

This means that in order to make exposition into ammunition, we need to turn the information into an asset or a problem.

And it needs to become an asset or a problem for the current conflict. . . .

The Current Conflict

Okay, so, before we go much further, I need to briefly review a few concepts. If you've been following me a long time, I hope you won't want to aim your ammunition toward me, because we've gone over this a lot, but it's critical to make sure we are all on the same page, because everything builds off the basics.

Novelists often focus on the big main conflict that stretches through the length of the book, the global story or the narrative arc (depending on what terminology you prefer), and structurally, it looks like this:

The conflict creates the rising action. If we were to zoom in, it'd be like this . . .

But this isn't only true of the story as a whole. Story structure is a fractal, and this is true of smaller structural units as well.

This is true of acts (and the second act is commonly cut in half):

And it's also true of scenes: 

They fit inside each other, like a Russian nesting doll.

This means nearly every scene has a conflict.

This also means that nearly every scene should have a goal.

And nearly every scene should have an antagonist.

Because, rising action only happens when a character is pursuing a goal and running into antagonistic forces (obstacles). This is what creates the climb, the escalation.

The difference is that in a scene, all these components happen to a smaller degree, than the story as a whole.

So, the protagonist and antagonist of a scene, may not always be the same as the main protagonist and main antagonist of the global story.

The primary purpose of exposition is to further the immediate conflict.

The immediate conflict is what's happening in the scene. It's the current scene's conflict.

And yes, often that conflict is also feeding into the act-level conflict, which is feeding into the global story conflict. Because the smaller units fit inside (and even make up) the larger units.

So we best turn exposition into ammunition, by making it ammunition for the current conflict.

For the scene-level conflict.

Let's talk about how to do that. . . .

Exposition as Ammunition

Just as that basic structural shape fits within itself, within scenes, so do all the basic elements of plot.

The primary principles of plot are goal, antagonist, conflict, and consequences (stakes & ramifications).

Every scene should have a goal, an antagonist, a conflict, and consequences.

Turning points are important too--those are the "climaxes" in the structures above--it's when the conflict hits a definitive outcome that changes the direction of the story. It turns it into falling action.

There are more plot elements that build off these, but these are the most important and most foundational. They almost always need to be there to create a great scene.

The way to turn exposition into ammunition, is to turn information into plot elements.

It's part of the goal. It's part of the antagonist. It's part of the conflict. It's part of the consequences. It's part of the turning point. (Or it's part of one of the other plot elements I didn't mention (I'm simplifying).)

Or even more simplistically speaking--it's an asset or a problem in the current situation.

Let's look at an example to demonstrate.

Example #1: Magic System Exposition into Ammunition

Say we have a magic system about shadows. Perhaps in it, if your shadow overlaps with another's, that person is more susceptible to your influence and manipulation. In your little fictive world, you think this is a cool idea, and of course, the audience needs to know about it.

But simply explaining it to the audience isn't plot. Exposition in and of itself, doesn't make plot. Exposition is just information, and it certainly isn't functioning as "ammunition."

How do we convert it into ammunition?

By connecting it to plot.

We make it the protagonist's goal to manipulate another character through her shadow. Now she watches light sources and where her shadow falls. Now she tries to get closer to this other person, without being obvious. It's interesting because it's relevant to what's happening at hand.

Or perhaps in this scene, this magic is part of the antagonistic force. Someone else is trying to stop the protagonist by manipulating her via shadow, and now she needs to make sure their shadows don't touch.

Or we bring the shadow magic into a different, current conflict. Maybe neither person originally intends to manipulate the other via shadow. They are arguing about something totally different. But as it escalates, one shadow falls over the other's and contributes to the situation. It helps the protagonist, or it creates more problems for the protagonist.

Or we tie it to the consequences. If the protagonist fails to outrun the antagonist (current conflict), the antagonist will force her down, then manipulate her to the point she's basically brainwashed via shadow magic.

Or, we make it part of the turning point. The current conflict escalates, and the way the "battle" is definitively lost or won is by manipulating someone via shadow.

It's not just information anymore. It's ammunition.

It's working as an asset or problem for the protagonist.

As the audience watches this play out, they barely recognize they are being fed information.

To them, they are simply being fed plot.

And it's scene-level plot. Meaning, it's immediately relevant. 

Suddenly what could have been a boring chunk of info-dump is exhilarating. It has the audience on the edge of their seats.

Let's look at another example.

Example #2: Backstory Exposition into Ammunition

Let's say your character has a history with another character in the scene. They were childhood neighbors, and one time as kids they got into trouble. They were throwing water balloons at passing cars, and one of the drivers got out and chased them. They got cornered in an alley and the driver called the cops.

Now, these characters find themselves together again, and they are planning what to do next on their way toward the main plot goal.

So I could just dump in that backstory as exposition. . . .

Or I could find a way to turn it into ammunition.

Rather than having them peacefully planning together, it would likely be better if they were arguing about what to do next. This makes the second character an antagonist for the protagonist, within the scene.

Each person is trying to convince the other that their idea is great and the other person's is terrible.

As things get heated, the second character blames the protagonist for getting the cops called on them as kids.

This is now ammunition that feeds into the fight--it's the antagonist shooting it against the protagonist in the current conflict.

Now they are arguing about the water balloon incident.

So what was originally just info about their pasts, is now contributing to the current plot.

Let's do one more example . . . 

Example #3: Character Exposition into Ammunition

Your character dreams of winning the upcoming beauty pageant. But that information isn't relevant to the current plot. Yet it's important information to know, because it conveys not only her interests but key skills she's going use in an upcoming scene.

You could try to shoehorn it in, or you could weave it into the current conflict.

Perhaps the current conflict is seemingly unrelated.

She has to walk home from work every day, and her goal is to get home before dark. She doesn't feel safe walking home in the dark.

Anything that delays her, becomes an antagonistic force.

She's facing stray dogs, street salesmen, and chatty acquaintances.

In her rush, she accidentally steps into a storm drain grate, which ruins her shoes.

The shoes she intends to wear to the beauty pageant (she shouldn't have worn them that day, but she had a nice presentation at work and took the risk). 

This is a cost, or consequence (ramification) of her pursuing her home in a rush.

It's "shot" her in a way that impacts her future. It's thrown her trajectory at least slightly off balance.

It's a problem.

Contextual Exposition

Now, I want to acknowledge that not every single piece of information needs to be completely dramatized or "shown," and if it was, chances are the audience would feel like the story was lacking context.

Context is the information the audience needs to properly interpret the story. Without it, the audience feels a little blind. They need the narrator to guide them so they can appreciate what is unfolding. 

So, if Joe calls Mack, "Sam," the audience wants a clue as to why. Is Sam a nickname? Is Joe bad at remembering names? Is Joe doing this to be rude? The audience doesn't know. They can't properly interpret what just happened. They need more insight.

If Joe calls Mack, "Sam," to be rude, then the narrator needs to drop a line of exposition to explain that. This is not only acceptable, but necessary.

In a strange way, though, this kinda brings us full circle. 

Notice that this is providing context for the current conflict (or situation). 

It's not information for the sake of information.

Having this information adds power to the current scene. It will help us understand that scene's conflict.

It doesn't take away or distract us from that scene.

In the same book, McKee talks about how you must pass on information that ensures the reader won't be confused. This is contextual information. 

(Well, ensures the reader won't be unintentionally and unnecessarily confused. (In some rare exceptions, we may want the reader to be confused, but only briefly.))

McKee says, do pass on exposition if it reduces confusion.

Do write contextual exposition.

Even in my magic system example above, I would include contextual information. If I didn't, the audience wouldn't know to care two cents about the protagonist's shadow. They would probably feel confused on some level, when one character suddenly succumbs to the influence of the other, not understanding how or why.

Contextual exposition helps build the framework of the current scene's plot.

It may not be ammunition, but it's the material of the weapon that will hold the ammunition.

If there is no weapon, the ammunition doesn't do so much.

Reveal the information that will make the ammunition most impactful in the story.

When you do that, it's still relevantly tied to the current plot.

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight: Part 7 - Paint It, Black

📜Life is messy. And complicated. And writer blocky, with a dash of imposter syndrome... I just want to put that out there... Anyway...

Well, the poll won out. You all want to know what Jake said to Midge. This is solely a flashback chapter. I can't say I'm surprised at who you all disliked in the last chapter, though I hope this one will give you some insight into why Midge has held on to this for as long as she has.

Special thank you to @teacupsandtopgun for helping me to write a certain part of this! You can thank her for the puns! And @sarahsmi13s for taking a peak at it!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, flashbacks, Halloween college parties, school, angst, sexual themes (overhearing), drunkness/inxotication. I mentioned angst, right? 💀

#8k <- yes, i know

Part 6 | Masterlist | Part 8

*Halloween Four Years Ago*

Giving orders to a football team to put up Halloween directions was not an easy feat. They were kids in a joke shop, only too happy to take every opportunity to jump-scare each other with a spider, a white sheet or slide out from behind a door and shout boo! 

Despite the antics, you were grateful for the help. Nat and you wouldn’t have finished in time. And even then, you suspected Nat probably would have given up halfway through, merely deciding to throw Yellow Caution Tape on the walls and call it a day. 

You wouldn’t have stopped - even if it became a doomed effort. 

Bradley’s friends weren’t what you expected them to be. True, their appearance fit the bill a thousand times over. Tall, broad shoulders and bulging muscles were all the product of hard work - including Bob, who was smaller than the rest, though not by much.  Even their mannerisms, from how they acted childish and goofy to how they winked or playfully flirted, everything you saw played into the stereotypical type that was the classic college football jock. 

Then you got to know them—really know them—and hated yourself for ever associating them as such. 

You already knew Bradley and had met him on occasion. When he stayed over to be with Nat, he was often up before you, and you’d chat with him over a cup of coffee. He always brought her a cup to wake her up when he could, and it always made you smile. 

His story was a sad one. His father passed away when he was only two years old, leaving his mom to raise him alone. While he couldn’t regale you with his memories of him, he instead offered you the stories attached to his father’s things: a button-up Hawaiian shirt in pale pastels, a pair of coffee-brown Ray Ban sunglasses, and even a worn Milk chocolate leather-strapped bag he used to lug his books around campus. 

Then, his mom passed away in high school, and his father’s best friend took him up until the point decided to leave for school. Bradley chose his words carefully when he spoke of any of them, offering little, and you wondered if the loss was still too much for him to bear. 

Or something else had happened, and he didn’t want anyone to know. 

 But as you helped him blow up a few balloons for the floor, a song from a later decade played through the speakers, and Bradley lit up, producing a smile wider than the nearby Jack-o-lantern. He launched into a story about how much his parents loved music and how his father would play the piano, which alone made him want to learn. 

You asked him if and when he did if he’d play for you one day.

Javy Machado, however, couldn’t be more different from Bradley if he tried.

He was just as meticulous as you when it came to detail. The two of you were discussing the best way to tape Velcro to the kitchen cupboards to stick fluff to the sides and mimic cobwebs when you discovered this fact. He was … quietly smooth and persuasive, with a suave smile that indicated he could charm his way into or out of any situation he wanted without needing to flirt or play it thick. 

“Angle it like this, Maeve,” he had explained, stretching the piece out. “Principle of maximum contact area equals maximum adhesive stretch.” 

You had raised your eyebrows at that remark, which prompted him to chuckle softly. 

"Science major," he shrugged with that smile, making your internal monologue stutter to a halt until you went, "Wait... What?!" 

He only laughed at your reaction, amused in a way like he’d been expecting it. But it was that look of genuine interest in his eyes that made you ask him properly. 

He didn't know what field of science to specialize in, but Javy made all of it sound amazing. From stars to not dirt—it's soil—to understanding how the world worked, he knew he wanted to spend his life trying to figure it all out. If he could throw a ball around and be part of a team with his friends, he considered himself fortunate to do both. 

Even if his passion was so far removed from your own, you may have seen some of yourself in his journey, trying to fit in while doing what you loved most. 

Holding up a string of lights against the wall, Reuben Flitch told you he was floating through school, waiting for the day he could finally be free. On that day, he’d take over his family’s business. Comparing him to the fractured story of your brother and sister following in your parent’s footsteps never seemed to cross your mind. 

Because when you asked what the business was, his face lit up with an enthusiasm you hadn’t expected. 

“My grandparents own vineyards," he had beamed. "They've been in the family for generations. I've grown up with the land, the grapes, and the entire winemaking process." 

He told you stories of growing up, playing through the vines and rows of trellises, making you long for the rows of apple trees at Aunt Viv's. He also talked about spending time with his grandfather, learning the process of pressing grapes and his grandmother tending and picking the grapes. He spoke about the people, everyone from the gardeners to the people who bottled the wine to his siblings, with whom he'd played hide-and-seek within the cellars. 

He told you a business major was worth it, as much as he loathed it, if he could own the place one day.  

You hoped he did. 

But Mickey Garica and Bob Floyd were... characters, to say the least. It was easy to talk with them, even laugh with them, as the three of you spread tiny black spiders all over the apartment. 

Mickey couldn’t stop asking if you could paint him one day, though you imagined it would be fandom-inspired rather than a realistic portrait. The second you asked him about his favourite universe, he launched into a word vomit of praise for each and every one. He spoke of Lord of the Rings, Marvel, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Batman—not DC—as the character deserved to be separated from the rest. 

It made you wonder if the one portrait would be enough. Still, you happily humoured him, saying you needed the practice. 

He was in Health Sciences, hoping it would be enough to get his foot in the door to become a firefighter. He talked about it so passionately, about being capable of making a difference and saving lives, that you honestly couldn’t see him in any other role. 

And given the opportunity, Bob was so full of sass and witty comebacks to the ones you managed to throw his way, you were surprised he was seeking an Anthropology and Archaeology degree. He seemed to have a natural talent for what Comedians had labelled “crowd work.” You honestly would have taken him for a drama major had he not told you differently.

However, once he explained his choice, you understood why. Growing up, having been a Boy Scout, learning about nature, rocks, and life. He wanted to know more about life, history, and how things were. 

A visit to an archeological dig site in high school sold it for him. His eyes lit up when he spoke about ancient civilizations, lost artifacts, and all the mysteries surrounding human evolution. He rattled off facts about Neanderthals and cave paintings, which had you urging him for more. 

He happily obliged and was encouraging when you offered a few that you knew of. 

All of them were so passionate about what they wanted to do with their lives, even Bradley, who wanted to pursue football seriously as a career; you admired all of them for it with your entire heart. 

But Jake Seresin was... you didn’t know. Nor did he, it seemed. 

Jake was there at your side every time you went back up that ladder, claiming someone needed to catch you should you fall again. You had rolled your eyes, a slight smirk gracing your face, but you let him all the same. 

He wasn’t as open as the others, wanting to flirt with you more than anything else. Somehow, you managed to get him talking about football, and when you asked him why he played, he admitted that his father had gone and played at the school. He had been urged to apply, and his family would support him throughout his entire ride. 

“Family money,” he said, his tone light when you gawked at him. You didn’t ask what his parents did, but knowing he came from a rich family, you wondered if he didn't want people to know. You certainly didn't. Nat didn’t know, at least not yet. 

It prompted him to add his parents weren’t pressuring him into one career or another; they simply wanted him to keep up with the sport. So, he was buying time and taking electives, trying to figure it out, though he would have to make a decision soon. 

And it made you wonder, under that confidence, under that layer of charm and ease on his surface, if he was searching for what everyone else in the group had already found. While everyone else didn’t fit the stereotype, you wondered if Jake was attempting to mould himself into it. 

How you wished to tell him, he didn’t have to. 

But Jake wasn’t a painting you could tear apart or theorize about. And as you pinned that last streamer to the ceiling, you realized over the course of the afternoon, you’d unwittingly developed a bit of a crush on him. 

You weren’t stupid. You recognized the signs the second he caught you off that ladder. The second he handed you that shot. He was laying on the charm, the flirty glances, the playful smiles. Even the slight touches on your waist as you leaned back, pining streamers to the ceiling, were waving the red flags in your head. 

Jake was either genuinely interested or actively looking for someone to hook up with tonight. 

It wouldn’t be you, that’s for sure—not even for someone so charming and handsome as Jake Seresin. 

In the last two hours, the guys took turns getting ready first while everyone else finished with the final touches. They wanted you and Natasha to go first, but you vehemently refused, knowing they’d ruin hours of hard work if left unsupervised. 

You also wanted to see this through to the end, but you kept that to yourself. You had revealed enough of your quirky, artsy side to them. You did not need to add to it by gushing over the decorations or how the entire apartment turned out, possibly damaging whatever relationship you'd established so far. 

People were weird when it came to shit like that. 

Jake and Bradley emerged from Nat’s bedroom just as the two of you were headed toward yours. The hallway was already lit in a deep red from the lights now neatly strung up in the corners of the ceiling. Though the sun was beginning to set, shining warm light through your window, you knew the total effect would be entirely eerie when night rolled around. You couldn’t wait to see it.

Bradley was dressed as Indiana Jones: a white shirt, a brown leather jacket, and a fake whip at his side. His outfit was complementary to Nat's Marion Ravenwood, her costume the classic white dress from the first movie you spent a while making. Though she did ask you to take some creative liberties with the design, the dress was more risque than necessary. 

The only thing remotely movie-accurate about it would be the puffy sleeves.

You couldn't help but whistle when Jake stepped out from behind Bradley. Instantly perking up at the noise, he let out a sly smirk and straightened the lapels of his deep black leather jacket. 

"Danny Zuko, huh?" you laughed softly. "Guess you've got the whole 'bad boy' vibe down." 

Jake smirked at you, copying one of the iconic character's signature moves by sliding his hands into his black leather jacket pockets as he strode by. "Only missing my Sandy. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find one, would you?" 

You coyly peered at him over your shoulder as you continued down the hall. Unknown to either of you, Nat and Bradley had stopped to watch the interaction, filled to the brim with curiosity. 

"Wouldn't know. I'm more of a Rizzo myself. Too much sass and not enough patience for leather pants." 

"To get into them or to get out?"

With a glimmer in your eyes and a smirk on your lips, you pivoted to face Jake completely, still walking backwards. “You're quite the smooth talker, aren’t you?” 

Jake shrugged, giving off the vibe of, ‘I can’t help my reputation.’ However, you could see the easy grin on his face, and one side of his mouth crooked upwards, making him appear boyish—just like the character he was dressed up as. 

It made your heart flutter inside your chest. 

“It’s a shame I’m more into the rough-around-the-edges type,” you teased softly, pausing by the corner. 

Liar. Oh, you horrible liar. 

Jake’s grin didn’t disappear when you saw him press his tongue to the inside of his cheek, arching an eyebrow. Instead, it turned into a knowing smirk.

“Is that so?” he teased.

You flushed, at a loss for words. Jake's teasing gaze lingered, and the lift in the corner of his mouth suggested he saw right through your lie. Your cheeks burned hot. 

Jake's chuckle echoed softly down the hallway as you made your escape, somehow making your heart race faster. You didn't dare look back, but you could feel his eyes on you as you turned the corner and down the hallway to your bedroom.

As Jake retreated back into the apartment, Bradley coughed lightly. He exchanged a knowing look with Nat, who had been watching your retreat. He jutted his head once toward you, and Nat replied in kind with a single tilt of her head toward Jake. 

They didn’t need to say aloud what they were thinking. They’d talk about what they discovered later, but it wouldn’t stop them from pressing this interesting development further. 

When she reached your room, Nat found you already in your robe, sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair. You had already laid out your costumes on your bed earlier in the day, and Nat raced to hers the second she saw it, making grabby hands at the fabric. 

"Ahh, it turned out so great, Maeve!" she exclaimed, grabbing the top and holding it up. You glimpsed at her through the reflection of your mirror, smiling when she hugged it to her chest.

“If I had made it any deeper, Nat, you’d be showing off more than just dangly bits.” 

She blew a raspberry at you. You giggled, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to do couples costumes. I never thought Bradley would go for it,” she said after a while, standing next to you and straightening her hair in the mirror of your vanity.

“Really?” you asked, concentrating on not poking your eye out with your mascara. 

“How else am I going to shoo off all the girls practically clamouring to get with Bradley? It’s a nice way to do it, don’t you think?” 

“Maybe. Not every costume as a twin, though,” you said, lowering your hand to gesture to yourself. You hoped Nat would at least acknowledge the effort you’d made or pep you up for a party you'd originally never wanted to hold. 

“What about the Danny wandering around the apartment ‘without his Sandy’?”

You dropped your hand from where you had started fixing up your other eye, glaring at her reflection in your mirror. “Really, Nat?” 

“What, you don’t dream of a little Summer Lovin?” 

You felt your face flush. As if Jake would ever really go for someone like you. “It’s Halloween, Nat.” 

“Exactly. It’s Halloween, and it’s getting colder. Maybe you’ve got chills, and maybe they're multiplying.” 

You groaned, dropping your head and smacking it against your vanity. 

“You’re sure he’s not the one you want?” she bumped you with her hip, grinning.

“Can you stop with the Grease puns? Please,” you squawked. 

Nat laughed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she stepped away. "Okay, okay. But if you change your mind, I think Danny Zuko out there wouldn't mind being 'the one that you want.'"

Fingers wrapping around the handle of your hair brush, you didn’t lift your head from the vanity as you chucked it in Nat’s direction. She laughed hard, and you didn’t need to look to know you had missed her completely. 

Nat eventually cajoled you into helping her slip into her dress, adjusting bits and pieces of fabric here and there. You sat back down at your vanity as she twirled once in the mirror, declaring she was satisfied. Then her eyes went to the door, and her attention shifted to Bradley and what waited beyond it. 

"Are you okay if I go out? Do you need any help?" Nat's voice was laced with excitement, and her eyes gleamed with anticipation of finally having a party as she smoothed down the sides of her dress.  

You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. Nat didn’t meet your gaze. "No, I'm good. I only need to touch up my makeup, and my dress is a slip-on," you smiled. "Go make sure Bradley keeps his hat on." 

Nat wiggled her shoulders, biting her lip to mute her squealing giggle. The puffy sleeves of her short dress waved with her, and she precariously tip-toed out the door on her high heels. Once in the hallway, she dramatically yelled, "Come and get me, Indiana Jones!" 

You stifled a giggle, shaking your head, allowing yourself to turn back to face your mirror.

Staring at yourself, you searched every part of your face, making sure your foundation, blush, eyes, and lips were just how you wanted them to be. You toyed with a strand of curled hair, wondering if what you had done was enough—if all of it had been enough. 

Then your eyes came to rest on your costume, so carefully draped across the end of your bed through the reflection in the mirror. 

You're not sure why "Flaming June" happened to be your favourite painting, though you supposed it had to do with the girl in the painting so casually draped across that seat next to that fountain. She was curled up almost like a serpent, covered in sheer transparent vibrant orange, the painting's only bright pop of colour.

The painting was supposedly meant to depict nymphs, sleeping Greek nymphs for that matter, or even Victorian society's obsession with beauty. However, you argued differently in the paper you wrote for it.

You cared more about the juxtaposition of fire and tranquillity in the piece than about whatever cultural influence or social construct it had at the time. That one girl was at the centre of the painting, wrapped in sheer, see-through colour. She was meant to be the focus; that much was certain. 

Maybe you thought her dress signified the chaos of the world around her, and all she wanted to do was find a moment of peace. 

You’d spent countless hours at the fabric store trying to match the correct shade. Once you had completed parts of Nat's, you spent even countless more at your sewing machine, staying up late to make progress on yours. 

And each time she asked you to make alternations on hers, the more drastic you made it to be ‘just that much sluttier', the more you thought about what you could do to yours. In the end, the thin straps holding up your dress, revealing bare shoulders and the long slit between your breasts, ending just before your belly button, was all you could stomach. 

You held the dress up, contemplating your thoughts. You could do this. You could survive one simple Halloween party - one simple college rager party. 

Right?

———

The second the apartment was starting to flood with arriving guests, Jake realized you hadn’t emerged from your room with Nat.

He had been off to the side near a bookcase, talking with Bradley, hoping to stave off the crowd and the rest of the football team for a little longer. He knew they'd want to talk football and strategies for the season, and Jake simply... didn't. 

He wanted a night off. He wanted to relax and have a good time. And talking about football wouldn't be it. 

Bradley had said something to Jake, but he hadn’t been paying attention. He was too busy searching the gathering pods of people for your face. Why, he didn’t know. But he was eager to find out. 

Bradley snapped his fingers in Jake's face, startling him from his search. "Earth to Jake!" 

Jake shook his head, focusing back on Bradley. "Sorry, what?" 

Bradley raised his eyebrows under the rim of his fedora. "What's going on in that head of yours?" 

Jake regarded him for a few seconds before finally looking down at his drink, bringing it to his lips, admitting, "I'm just looking for Maeve." 

As Jake took a drink, Bradley grinned. "She's probably still getting ready. Nat said her costume was based on her favourite panting." 

Jake didn't even look up from his drink when he asked, "What's her favourite painting?" 

"Why? You looking to make a good impression?" he said, still grinning. 

"Fuck off, Man," Jake snapped, taking another swig to finish his drink. Bradley only laughed, now shaking his head. He would have let Jake simmer in his ask, but this was you. He had to give Jake at least a decent running chance. 

"It's Flaming June, the chick in the orange dress. It's a brilliant costume idea. She made it herself." 

Of course, you would have made it yourself, Jake thought. 

"Surely you came across that painting with your 'rich upbringing.' Nat was practically force-feeding information down our throats a few seconds ago to ensure we recognized her costume. It’s some Freddie Luigui piece. I don't know." 

"I know it," Jake snapped. "I've seen it before." 

Jake was pretty sure he had, maybe once at one of his father's fundraising parties, though he actively searched his mind, trying to remember what it looked like. 

Bradley remained silent, slouching against the bookcase and crossing one leg over the other. He narrowed his eyes at his friend and tilted his head. 

"Why the sudden interest in Maeve? She isn't one for..." Bradley trailed off, searching for the correct word. Just as Jake was about to ask him what he meant, Nat's approaching heels on the hardwood floor stopped them both. 

She stopped at Bradley's side, red solo cup in hand, looping her arm through his. "What are you two handsome boys gossiping about over here?" she giggled at her boyfriend, her chin plopping lazily down onto his bicep. "See any snakes in the crowd, Indy?" 

Bradley pulled his face back into a grimace, reciting the famous line. "Snakes. Why does it always have to be snakes?" 

Jake rolled his eyes at their banter, placing his empty cup on the table between them. Nat giggled, tilting her head back, indicating to Bradley she wanted to be kissed. He complied without protest, leaning down, pressing his lips to hers in an overly dramatic display merely to piss Jake off. 

"Get a room," Jake groaned, mocking a wrenching noise. The couple separated, turning to Jake with amused smirks. "You've heard and seen far worse, dude." 

Jake shuttered, the unwanted memory of walking in on Nat and Bradley from weeks ago flashing through his mind. Sharing an apartment with Bradley had its moments - some good, some decidedly less so. It made him wonder if Maeve had to put up with the same shit he did. 

“Where’s Maeve?” Jake asked Nat, ignoring Bradley's remark. "I haven't seen her yet."

Nat opened her mouth, about to tell him you were still getting ready, when she caught sight of a flash of orange stepping out from behind the corner of the hallway. You came into view, your head angled down, mindful of stepping on your dress as thin streams of transparent fabric trailed behind you at your sides. 

Javy let out a low-toned whistle from somewhere in the room, and heads turned, one by one, as you took your final step into the apartment. 

“Damn girl, you clean up nice!” 

Lifting your head, you were surprised to see eyes on you. Javy glided forward to greet you from where he had been standing at a nearby table, and you smiled at him, though a little weary. Deep down, you knew his comment was meant to be a compliment. But something coarse, like sandpaper, rubbed against your heart at the remark, lingering longer than you would have liked. 

“What? Not bad for a fine arts major?” you joked somewhat deprecatively, though your voice held none of it. 

Javy held out his hand, and you grabbed it, allowing him to lift it above your head. With a pump of his wrist, he urged you to spin under his arm several times, letting your dress fan out. You giggled as he urged you, though you wobbled on your heels. The dreaded things were Nat's only contribution to your outfit, and you were severely regretting it. 

He let you go, thinking you had your footing on the last, slowed spin. But when you came to a stop, you were on the verge of falling over, your head dizzy, and your legs unbalanced. 

To his credit, Javy tried to reach out and steady you, already regretting the step he took back. However, before he could, another pair of hands, one on your hip and one taking your hand, steadied you. 

Jake’s hands were firm on your skin, pulling you close as you lost your balance. You fell into his chest, head tilted back, half falling over. And looking up at his face, seeing the amused grin on his lip, you drew in a sharp breath at the sight. 

"Letting me make a good first impression?" he quipped.

“By catching falling women?” you laughed breathlessly, bringing your free hand to his chest. If you had let your hand stall slightly longer than necessary, you would have never admitted to it.

“Seems noble enough,” he replied, helping you to stand. Though he might have let go of your hand, he didn’t let go of your waist. “Or do you make it a habit to test the reflexes of every guy you meet?”

You couldn’t resist the playful jab. “Only the ones who seem like they can handle it. And the pretty ones.”

Jake's grin widened, and he even risked sneaking a quick peek at your lips, letting them rest there for a few seconds before his eyes roamed the rest of your body.

"Flaming June, right? Frederic Leighton's Masterpiece."

You blinked in surprise, letting out a small gasp. You honestly expected to tell people what your costume was, not just some girl in some random orange dress. Jake's knowledge of the painting, let alone his identification of it so quickly, was scoring him some major brownie points. 

"You know your art," you commented nonchalantly.

He shrugged, "I might know a thing or two. I always had a thing for the classics. By the way, it suits you." 

You practically preened under his gaze. "Thank you," you said, a shy smile creeping onto your face. He beamed at you in return. 

Yes, you might have a crush on him. But for the first time that day, you figured it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

—- 

This was a bad idea - Oh, this party was such a bad idea.

Believing you were having a good time and actually having a good time were two separate things. You certainly felt one of those things. As the night went on, and with each drink you tipped back, alcoholic or not, regret built in your stomach. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe you were seeking reasons where there initially were none, allowing Natasha’s suggestions to slowly chip away at your resolve until you finally gave in. Maybe it was the promise of letting loose, to embrace the spirit of Halloween with all its creative potential.  

Maybe it was the promise of making new friends. Of getting to know people outside the art department. Natasha had told you to mingle. She wanted you to mingle, and yet... you didn’t know where to start. 

You didn't expect Nat or Bradley to coddle you, but they could have introduced you to a few people besides the core group before things had gotten this bad. You didn't dare approach Javy or Rueben, who played beer pong and chugged beers back like it was nobody's business. They were off doing their own thing, and you didn’t want to intrude. 

 Mickey and Bob had gone home earlier in the night. Bob proclaimed he had a midterm to study for, and Mickey wanted to go home anyway so he could call his family in peace. You strongly suspected he wanted to watch Halloween movies instead.

Rocky Horror sounded like a wonderful idea right about now. 

You couldn’t hang around Nat and Bradley all night, either. And nobody from your art classes would even dare set foot inside a party where nearly half of its guests were from the sororities.

You knew that. While you did extend the invitation, you told them you wouldn't blame them if they didn't come. They had looked at you with such disregard you wondered if they were seeing you through newly polished rose-coloured glasses. And standing up against the wall next to your bookcase, like an insipid wallflower, you could hardly blame them for it either. 

You couldn’t introduce yourself in a place where you were the outsider, even within the walls of your own home. Soon after the first few attempts, that realization settled deep into your chest. And you couldn’t help but feel like you had done this to yourself -  an attempt to be part of something like this, even if just for a night.

But Jake… Jake was still here. At least, he should be. He had been by your side for the beginning of the evening, talking to you about what projects you were currently working on over another drink—not whiskey—after you had started to hiccup while putting up decorations. 

After he recognized your dress, you weren’t ashamed to tell him. You had launched into the ideas and thoughts behind two paintings and one sculpture, an old table that you were trying to turn into an elemental-type sundial. You told him about the zodiac signs you had already burned into the wood after sanding it down and how each was placed in its own little section as it related to its element. 

You had reached halfway through your thought process when you realized how lost you were in your explanation. You froze mid-sentence, blushing harder than the colour of your dress. 

"Sorry," you had said. "I ramble when I get excited about my art.” 

But Jake’s interest hadn’t waned. If anything, it urged him to ask, “How did you find something you're so passionate about? Creating things... making art?"

His question had made you pause, though not over what to say but merely how to say it. “It was my voice when words fell short or my escape when the world grew too loud.” 

You caught a glimpse of something in Jake’s eyes—a flash of longing, a momentary crack in his confident demeanour. What followed was a slight nod. It was there, and then it wasn’t, as if he’d accidentally revealed more of himself than he wanted. Then he caught himself, suddenly straightened his spine, and continued the conversation as if that brief lapse in judgment never happened in the first place. 

Ten minutes later, he excused himself to get another drink. And you hadn’t seen him since. 

You scanned the room for him, hoping to spot that black leather jacket among the sea of people. But it was impossible. Under the dim, eerie glow of the lights, each costume blurred into the next, and the crowd swallowed any hope of finding him.

Reaching for whatever mixed drink Nat had made you earlier off the table, you pushed yourself off the wall, weaving through the throngs of people, figuring you might as well try to see if she knew where he had run off to. 

Liquid sloshed over the rim of your cup onto your hand as you dodged a zombie here, a fairy there, and music pulsing like a heartbeat through the packed room. Laughter and snippets of conversations swirled around you as you scanned the sea of faces, both masked and not for Nat. 

Glasses clinked, a witch cackled, and the scent of spiced pumpkin mingled somewhere in the mix with the tang of alcohol and body sweat. By the time you spotted her leaning heavily against the kitchen Island, red cup in hand and her laughter too loud, eyes slightly unfocused, you knew the night had taken its toll on her sobriety. 

She was too preoccupied with telling a bunch of people a story to notice how you quickly launched the contents of your cup into the sink behind her. You extended your arm when you were close enough, looping your arm around her waist. Her arm came up at the same time, sliding across your back to pull you close. 

Nat tilted her head back onto her shoulders, glancing at you with happy eyes. "Maeve!" she whined tipsily. 

Given how far gone she was, you were surprised at how accurately she pronounced your name. She bent slightly, still holding her red Solo cup in her hand, to hug you tight, her face smooshing into your neck.

“It looks like you’re having the time of your life,” you snorted. She nodded against your skin, biting her lip in a smile with a happy, drunken snigger. She lazily pulled back to meet your eye, and you smiled at her. 

“Have you seen Jake around?” 

Nat paused, her gaze flickering around the room as if she'd genuinely forgotten about him, though she didn’t lift her head off your body. "Jake? Oh, I haven't seen him in a bit,” she slurred slightly. “Why? Do you two likeeeeeeeeeeeeeee each other? Is Jake going to make you scream grease lightin’?” 

You reached for her red Solo cup and pried it from her hand. “Okay, yup, you're cut off.” 

“Nooo,” she pouted her arm a dead weight as she tried to take it back. Her hand hit the bottom of the cup, and liquid shot up, once again covering your hand in whatever type of alcohol Nat managed to mix together. You could only sigh. 

“Here comes the fun police,” she muttered under her breath. “I thought you’d be off doing your own thing.” 

Well, that fucking stung just a tiny bit. 

“I’m not going to be the one who cleans up your vomit tomorrow morning, Nat.” 

“I’ve only had,” she held up her hand, widening her thumb and pointer finger probably further apart than she thought, “this much to drink.” 

“Ahm...”  

Luckily for you, Bradley appeared, having seen what was going on. He looked amused yet concerned as he slid between the gap of the island and Nat to observe his girlfriend babbling nonsense on your shoulder. “What’s happening here?”

Nat made another grab for her cup, but Bradley gently intercepted her, taking her hand into his before she could even grasp it. 

“That,” you offered. 

 “I think it’s time we get you to bed, love,” he suggested, wrapping an arm around her waist. You let him take her, happy for him to bear her weight. 

Nat leaned into him, mumbling something incoherent, a mix of protest and agreement. Bradley spared a glance at you, silently thanking you in your unspoken agreement. You nodded, watching as he sandwiched her to his side and carried her off towards her room. 

It always seemed like one of you was always taking care of her. At one point or another. 

After getting rid of Nat’s cup, you felt the sticky residue of both of your spilled drinks on your skin and felt the urge to run to the privacy of the bathroom to wash it off. Stumbling down the hallway, blusters on your feet finally making themselves known, you let your hands casually slide along the wall. The music from the party faded into a muffled, dull noise as you walked. 

You wanted to smile at the lights. The red eerie glow along the top corners of the ceiling only reached not even halfway down the wall, plunging the floor into a dark abyss. You clumsily stuttered through it, unable to see anything below your waist.

It was exactly as you pictured it, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to manage the slightest grin. 

The bathroom door was down at the end of the hall slightly ajar, with the red LED light illuminating its edges from behind. You zoned in on it like a wobbly arrow to a target, tired and completely done with tonight and everything about it.

You reached for the curved handle, about to push the door open, when a high-pitched giggle came from behind the piece of wood. You shot your hand back like you had been burned, and with a quick turn of your heel, you plastered your back up against the wall. 

You immediately knew what was happening behind that door, and it made you throw up in your mouth just a little. 

Ugh, I’m going to have to disinfect the hell out of that bathroom tomorrow. 

The next voice you heard, however, made your heart drop into your stomach. 

“You like that, don’t ya, sweetheart?”

You didn't want to believe it, but you had to see for yourself. Leaning forward off the wall, you peered through the crack in the door, only to spot a black leather jacket taking up most of your view—the same black jacket you had complimented Jake on earlier that day. It was a stark contrast to the red glowing light above him, and something snapped in your heart and recoiled back as one slender bare leg in beige fishnet stockings wrapped around his. 

There was an overly drunken and seductive 'ahm,' forcing you to glance over his shoulder at the girl he was with—her costume was a bejewelled Taylor Swift outfit to match her long blonde hair. 

You swallowed your bile and adverted your gaze, pressing yourself back up against that wall, out of sight and hidden completely from view. 

You knew this was a possibility; Jake was merely looking for a hookup and nothing more. You had considered it all afternoon. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel utterly hurt at the sight. 

"I mean, Nat's pretty clever befriending that girl.. what was her name, Maeve?" the girl snickered. 

"I know. It sounds like something out of those weird fantasy books everyone loves." A whimper from his companion followed Jake's breathy and muffled laugh.

At the dig, your hand went to your chest, your heart thudding painfully under your palm. The realization they had been talking about you, about Nat, made tears flood your eyes. 

You didn't understand it. Or maybe you did, and you were too blinded by the possibility of someone like him, someone like Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, and Rueben, to beat the fucking pyramid scheme and care about someone like you. 

What other explanation was there except the fact you had been blinded by those who proved to be the exception? Blinded by the fucking elementary school crush cause he had flirted, smiled, joked, and maybe even showed some half-decent interest in you. Clearly, the second he figured out you weren’t going to hook up with him, he sought his sights on someone else. 

Jake wasn’t trying to mould into the stereotype. He was the fucking stereotype.

"Even her costume," she sneered. "Like, who the fuck dresses up like that for a college rager Halloween party? You're supposed to dress up slutty."

You couldn't speak, staring down the front of your dress to what you had thought had been a risky enough slit. You couldn't even breathe. 

"You kidding me?" he laughed lowly. "Bradley was practically screaming at us what she dressed up as. I'd have no fucking clue what she was otherwise. I'd guess some random Greek Godness obsessed with that awful shade of orange."

Your hand slid up from your chest, around your throat to feel your harsh, rough swallow. Only it didn’t stop there, suddenly finding yourself wrapping it around your entire mouth, stifling any noise wanting to escape. Through shaky inhales in and out of your nose, you fought hard to stop yourself from crying over this. 

Over him. Over a fucking jock who would say anything to hook up with a girl. Only to get his dick wet. 

But you couldn't prevent the tears from welling up in your eyes, or from one finally spilling over, dropping down your cheek only to stall there, or how the hand covering your mouth curled up around your cheekbone, only to stroke away the tear. 

You refused to look back at the door through the crack, so you fixed your gaze on the darkness consuming the ground. And as you lowered your hand, you caught the ugly black smear marring your skin.

 How could you not? Standing in the glow of that red hallway light, it was the only thing you could see.

The artistic irony hits you like a freight train. Here you were, dressed as the girl in your favourite painting. Her dress had been the only bright shade of colour in the entire painting, and you, standing in the top half glow of bright red LED lights, had failed to notice what had been staring you in the face all along.

Orange was muted by red, and black bled through all. The only thing about you that stood out the entire evening was this tiny black mark scarring the back of your hand—black tears from smeared mascara.

"I would have guessed an orange," the girl snickered, quickly followed by a mewl. "Though she practically blended into the wall, I couldn't see her with the lights." 

Lips plucking on skin echoed off the title and out the door, and Jake drew in a ragged breath as he agreed. "She did blend right into the fucking wall, didn’t she?"

Your eyes burned. The girl giggled. 

“How long do you think this one will stay? She seems… different, to say the least.” 

Jake sniggered. “Seriously, you think Natasha Trace is hanging around that girl out of the goodness of her heart?” 

His laugh was so full of malice that it was nothing like the ones you had heard pleasantly filling your ears earlier. 

“Everyone knows after what Nat did, she needs an image clean up. Playing the saint, befriending the weird loner art girl, giving her the best friend badge?” 

“If she thinks she’s got a place in the big leagues, she’s in for a rude awakening,” the girl murmured. “Pathetic. People like her don’t belong with people like us.” 

There was a pause. “It’s just like Natasha, though. She always needs an audience, something to validate her feelings. It’s brillant really.” 

Jake's agreement was a silent blow, his next words the dagger. "Nat's smart. She knows how to play the game. Maeve's just...convenient."

Convenience. The word echoed in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your already crumbling self-worth.

“Give it a year. Trace is going to drop her the second the next new shiny person comes along. And everyone is going to forget about the little art girl she used up and discarded. Or she’ll become the most hated girl on campus.” 

Without your back up against the wall, his words might have made you crumble into that dark abyss. 

“Can we stop talking about her now?” the girl whined. “I thought you promised to get me off.” 

Jake chuckled lowly, the sound morphing into a low, predatory growl. “You brought her up, sweetheart. But don’t worry—I’m all yours now.” 

You pushed yourself away from that wall, stumbling down the dark hallway to your bedroom out of instinct, refusing to subject yourself to any further torture. But just before your door, you fell into the wall, your shoulder throbbing as you slouched against it. 

The world around you swirled, leaving you consumed by one thought—and one thought alone.

That. Fucking. Asshole! How dare he! How fucking dare he!

To hear Natasha be demeaned, your friendship demeaned and used as a stepping stone in pursuit of a meaningless hookup... anger boiled under your skin. You didn’t care what he or what they had said about you, but Nat? 

If Jake thought he’d succeed in sweet-talking you, to play you like a puppet on a string, just as he assumed Nat had been doing, he had another thing coming. If he was going to talk shit about your friendship with her, you’d show him just how spineless you could be. 

Oh, he’d wish he’d never caught you off that fucking ladder. Wished he had never met you and flirted with you, obviously a ploy to find someone to hook up with. You gagged at ever having a crush on him in the first place. 

But as you leaned against the wall, trying to steady your swirling thoughts, doubt wormed its way into your mind.

What if he was right? 

What if your friendship with Nat was just a convenience, a way for her to maintain her status or recover from her sorority fallout? You knew nothing of it, nothing more than what she told you. There could be more to the story, things she hadn’t revealed, things nobody else had either.

 No, you shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. Nat had been there for you in ways no one else had. 

Jake was just an asshole. Plain and simple. 

But then another thought sucker punched you in the gut. 

You couldn’t tell anyone else what he said. You wouldn’t be responsible for causing that type of drama within a friend circle, one that long before you ever showed up. They never would have believed you anyway, and Nat… she worked so hard to get out, escape the rumours and gossip, to put it behind her. She didn’t need to know about this.

You had no choice but to carry this burden alone. It was a lonely decision, but perhaps loneliness was a small price to pay for the semblance of harmony among friends—or so you tried to convince yourself.

But Jake. You could no longer give a rat’s ass about Jake. If he wanted to attack Nat, then fine. You hit him right back. That much you could still do. 

Whatever had possessed Frederic Leighton to name the piece you currently embodied, “Flaming June,” whatever possessed him to gift that girl with fire in her name, that fire was suddenly born in you. 

A flame that sparked and kerosened your soul to burn, hot and bright. It was a wildfire that rushed under layers of skin and ignited every nerve, ending with a ferocity you never knew you possessed. It was born to protect what you had found - Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, Javy and Rueben. And that fucking asshole would never be allowed to put you down, Nat down, like your family did, ever again. 

Pushing yourself off the wall, you stepped into your bedroom. Slamming the door, the lock clicked hard into place. 

It never opened the rest of the night.

NOW YOU KNOW....

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[dootznbootz]

Odysseus was afraid the entire year on Aeaea in the Odyssey.

Content warnings: Rape, Sexual Coercion, Sexual assault, Sex Work, power dynamics, this will also be long as fuck as I talk too much. This is NOT a "Circe the Goddess Hate Post". I call her out but that's it. I tried to keep this neutral but still making a point (Let me know if I gotta put more)

Lots of lovely folks on here have written great essays on what Calypso did to Odysseus as it's soooo blatantly obvious there. It literally states how he cried every day and how he flinched from Calypso, very straightforward on how he was explicitly raped.

But I've noticed that a lot of people are always iffy about Circe's situation (understandably so, it's not so in your face.) She's usually always mentioned in the "Odysseus never cheated! He was raped!" posts but then the evidence is only ever given against Calypso, and then mentioning how you can't say no or disobey the orders of an immortal and how it was in exchange for freeing his men.

WHICH IS ALL CORRECT!!! But!!!

There ARE immortal/mortal couples who genuinely love each other. Dionysus and Ariadne, and Eros and Psyche are examples. Apollo and Hyacinthus. Psyche indeed becomes immortal eventually and in some versions, both Hyacinthus and Ariadne do too. But even while mortal themselves, their immortal lovers still remained respectful and loving towards them and definitely doted on them. There are definitely power dynamics at play here but there's some nuance.

Odysseus and Circe's relationship, however, is very different. We all know he slept with her at the very least once. And that was in exchange for his men being returned to humans. That was the only time it was explicitly stated. With Calypso, it tells you every night he was enchanted and slept beside her. It was the narrator speaking but Odysseus is the narrator now and it's his story. If you think he lied, this probably won't change your mind anyway.

But even if it was a one-time thing, (which isn't the only interpretation and I will have points that talk about others) then why did he stay a year? What was he doing?

I'm doing a deep dive into the year he spent on Aeaea based on evidence in Book 10 and then the beginning of Book 12. Step by step, and honestly I'm writing this for Tumblr, not as a thesis so I will be a bit more casual but still using sources. To me, it's very obvious that he was uncomfortable throughout the text simply based on the language that is used. But it's very subtle and not an outright statement of "He's been crying every day."

BTW, just so we're clear, this is not a "Circe is the root of all evil, etc." type of post.

This isn't meant to villainize her. She's an immortal being and in mythology that changes things. Everybody is morally gray. I genuinely think if we were to ask her feelings on it, she'd probably be like "Oh, yeah! Turned his men into pigs! Strange little man he was." I don't think she gave a flying fuck.

I just simply get pissed tf off when people think Odysseus was fine. It honestly disturbs me how often I'll go on other websites YouTube and see everyone call him a whore and a womanizer. It's sexism at its finest because 1.) "MaN AlwAyS wAnTs sEx" and 2.) women can't rape/coerce. THIS IS SIMPLY TO LOOK INTO HIS FEELINGS ABOUT IT.

This is also only for Homer's Odyssey, using different translations. If you want to discuss this, (I'd be happy to! Just be nice!) DON'T BRING UP ANY OTHER WORKS.

With all that out of the way, come yell with me 🤗

I've read multiple translations, as I know there's going to be bias depending on who's translating. And having done so, each one has basically the same situations described the same so that's nice for consistency. Also, there are some parts in the story that are vague and that we'll never have answers to.

Odysseus first simply sees the smoke from her chimney and then sends his men in, after drawing lots Eurylochus leads half of the men to check out the house. I mentioned here vaguely how the 2 immortals he sleeps with are both introduced while singing and weaving, which could be seen as an enchantment (which to me is most likely. They both possess magic and are goddesses). So I'm just gonna move past that. Just take a peek and come back or just know that enchantment was likely.

Next, I'll see people often joke on Tumblr about how

"Odysseus says that Polites is his best friend yet only mentions him once!"

I think Odysseus mentions his best friend, the one to jubilantly go in first, to show WHY he would go through with this. How much these comrades mean to him. That's his best friend, and there are approximately 20 others who are now pigs as well. Could you knowingly leave one of your best friends to live a life like that knowing you could've done something?

[...]Circe—and deep inside they heard her singing, lifting her spellbinding voice as she glided back and forth at her great immortal loom, her enchanting web a shimmering glory only goddesses can weave. Polites, captain of armies, took command, the closest, most devoted man I had: ‘Friends, there’s someone inside, plying a great loom, and how she sings—enthralling! The whole house is echoing to her song. Goddess or woman—let’s call out to her now!’ So he urged and the men called out and hailed her. She opened her gleaming doors at once and stepped forth, inviting them all in, and in they went, all innocence.

(Fagles, Book 10)

In the Odyssey, it's never mentioned why she turns people into animals. I think they were turned into pigs because, throughout the Iliad and Odyssey, Odysseus is often associated with boars. His men are associated with him, therefore: 🐖 Piggy. From what we know, the lads were just eating her food. With how much Xenia and hospitality are a large part of the story, they probably thought they were safe. They were GUESTS. This is especially welcome after the Cyclops and the Laestrygonians. And it literally says "All innocence". They were simply naive.

Then Eurylochus runs back, so terrified that he couldn't speak at first. He then begs Odysseus to just leave the men behind. Odysseus has shown that he does TRY to save his men when it is truly not reckless to do so.

But I shot back, ‘Eurylochus, stay right here, eating, drinking, safe by the black ship. I must be off. Necessity drives me on.’

(Fagles, Book 10)

Then the famous warning from Hermes. I've seen folks bring this up when talking about this. YES, he is literally commanded by Hermes to not refuse her if he wants his men back in basically every translation. It sounds like Circe was warned as well. When? We don't know, but it sounds like Hermes didn't pick "sides" here.

Strange that he was still like, "Sleep with each other" to both, because he could've been like, "Circe, there's this guy named Odysseus. When he comes to this island, change his men back." But who knows, maybe it was Circe's idea from the beginning and Hermes went along with it. Just food for thought.

Now here’s your plan of action, step by step. The moment Circe strikes with her long thin wand, you draw your sharp sword sheathed at your hip and rush her fast as if to run her through! She’ll cower in fear and coax you to her bed— but don’t refuse the goddess’ bed, not then, not if she’s to release your friends and treat you well yourself. But have her swear the binding oath of the blessed gods she’ll never plot some new intrigue to harm you, once you lie there naked— never unman you, strip away your courage!’

(Fagles, Book 10)

But that doesn't explain why he was there for a year afterward! Nor if he himself was okay with it, which is what I'm trying to delve into as he wasn't.

Also the knife thing? She's still immortal. It was meant to startle her. Her dad is Helios. Odysseus would've been toast, literally.

Also note this exchange wasn't a "Yippee! Hermes says I'm going to get laid!".

...just approaching the halls of Circe, my heart a heaving storm at every step, paused at her doors, the nymph with lovely braids— I stood and shouted to her there. She heard my voice, she opened the gleaming doors at once and stepped forth, inviting me in, and in I went, all anguish now …

(Fagles, Book 10)

Another translation by Ian Johnston, (they all say the same thing essentially but trying to make a point.)

I continued on to Circe’s home. As I moved on, my heart was turning over many gloomy thoughts. After I had walked up to the gateway                                                of fair-haired Circe’s house, I just stood there and gave a shout. The goddess heard my voice.                      She came out at once, opened her bright doors, and invited me inside. I entered, heart full of misgivings.

HE👏WAS👏SCARED! The tone is solemn and suspenseful. He was just told that without Hermes' help with the root, he wouldn't be able to survive and bring back his men. Circe was dangerous.

He made her swear not to harm him.

Straightaway she began to swear the oath that I required—never, she’d never do me harm—and when she’d finished, then, at last, I mounted Circe’s gorgeous bed …

(Fagles, Book 10)

Please note that she NEVER promised that to his men. His comrades did NOT have moli in their systems. He had no way of truly ensuring their safety in any way from Circe.

He then refuses to eat or speak, literally "lost in grim forebodings". If he "just got laid", then why isn't he happy? Not many men can say that a goddess CHOSE to have sex with them. He did it to get his men turned back. It was an exchange. I don't think Circe is "Evil" so maybe it slipped her mind. Or yes, she could've thought, "Hey, I got what I wanted. He's handsome enough. Homer never shuts up about how hot this guy is He hasn't brought up the pigs yet. I'll just let this play out. Maybe HE forgot. I don't have to do anything." We don't know. But Odysseus probably felt like he got deceived.

"Hey, I did my part of the deal. I slept with you. Now do yours."

She pressed me to eat. I had no taste for food. I just sat there, mind wandering, far away … lost in grim forebodings. As soon as Circe saw me, huddled, not touching my food, immersed in sorrow, she sidled near with a coaxing, winged word: ‘Odysseus, why just sit there, struck dumb, eating your heart out, not touching food or drink? Suspect me of still more treachery? Nothing to fear. Haven’t I just sworn my solemn, binding oath?’

So she asked, but I protested, ‘Circe— how could any man in his right mind endure the taste of food and drink before he’d freed his comrades-in-arms and looked them in the eyes? If you, you really want me to eat and drink, set them free, all my beloved comrades— let me feast my eyes.’ So I demanded.

(Fagles, Book 10)

He doesn't trust her despite what she had told him that he should when they sleep together. He has figured out that while she will not hurt him, his men were not a part of that oath, the men he was trying to protect in the first place.

She is then moved by how they rejoice when they see one another again. While turning people into animals for funsies isn't cool and coercion is fucked up, I think she comes to see this group as not quite friends but I think she did find them entertaining in a way.

This is very strange but I've seen some folks say that since Odysseus was pissed at Eurylochus for still not believing him about Circe is proof that "Oh he was trying to defend her!". Which??? Uh, Eurylochus was literally questioning his leadership as a whole. Calling him reckless and shit. He is captain and he's the King, he can't let that shit slide. The text literally says "Mutinous". Also if I had to sleep with someone I did not want to especially if it was to save my friends and I got called names afterward I'd get fucking pissed too.

Only Eurylochus tried to hold my shipmates back, his mutinous outburst aimed at one and all: ‘Poor fools, where are we running now? Why are we tempting fate?— why stumble blindly down to Circe’s halls? She’ll turn us all into pigs or wolves or lions made to guard that palace of hers—by force, I tell you— just as the Cyclops trapped our comrades in his lair with hotheaded Odysseus right beside them all— thanks to this man’s rashness they died too!

They stay a year. Again it's never stated that Odysseus slept with her that whole time. You could interpret that. (Honestly, I feel Circe would get bored with him? She's a goddess, she's got more important matters than mortal men. And she definitely doesn't love him.)

His men DO have to bring it up that "Odysseus has forgotten his native land." Maybe they thought they could sneak out without her knowing??? I am fucking REACHING but hold on as Telemachus did because he knew Nestor would well, be Nestor and try to coax him with "Have a meal with us! Let me tell you about how badass I used to be in my youth." But to sneak away from a goddess? Without her permission? That won't end too well. Aeolus in the beginning kicked out Odysseus when he tried to ask for another bag of wind. If she didn't want him around, she could literally boot him out. While she didn't force him to stay like Calypso did, she didn't "release" him either.

We don't know if they've been asking for a long time. Odysseus does say to Circe that they have been begging him nonstop, but he could also be saying that to try and convince her. He's good at persuasion. I think while he knew he could rely on her for food, shelter, and good advice, he still didn't feel...SAFE with her. I think he was possibly avoiding her personally.

I think HOW he asks her to leave is important to know as well.

...but I went up to that luxurious bed of Circe’s, hugged her by the knees and the goddess heard my winging supplication: ‘Circe, now make good a promise you gave me once— it’s time to help me home. My heart longs to be home, my comrades’ hearts as well. They wear me down, pleading with me whenever you’re away.’

(Fagles, Book 10)

Throughout all of Homer's works, the characters grasp another's knees when they are desperate and are literally at the other person's mercy. Priam did when begging Achilles for Hector's body back. The man who literally killed his son and was defiling his body by dragging it around. Leodes grabs Odysseus' knees to beg for his life before Ody kills him. If he saw her as a friend, and not a captor, WHY DID HE FEEL THE NEED TO BEG IN ORDER TO LEAVE?! No one, who is in a healthy relationship, has to BEG for permission to leave. Or to "Break up", if you interpret them as still sleeping together.

And even Circe acknowledges that he is there against his will!

‘Royal son of Laertes, Odysseus, old campaigner, stay on no more in my house against your will.

(Fagles, Book 10)

[...]Odysseus, man of many resources, scion of Zeus, son of Laertes, don’t stay here a moment longer against your will

(A.S. Kline, Book 10)

This is probably another reach that you can ignore but the whole "they wear me down", could be trying to appease her. "Look, you're REALLY cool, it's actually my crew that wants to leave hahahah please don't kill them"

I mentioned before how Telemachus snuck away from Nestor but that was simply out of necessity because he needed to go home now. Not rest for the night. NOW. Nestor is just everyone's grandpa. Menelaus kind of talked more but Telemachus is very straight up in "Please I have to go now" and Menelaus immediately got things ready for him. He never has to beg and clasp his knees. Telemachus was never afraid. Menelaus is a fun uncle and Helen is your cool auntie.

Back to Circe! She tells him instructions for the underworld, they were in her bedroom. But that might've been the only way to speak with her. As even Penelope is usually away from the suitors when they are in her halls, Circe may have done the same. The text never states she played hostess physically. If she was hosting in the halls during the day, why did Odysseus wait until night to talk to her? He could've just asked her while she was on her throne in front of everyone. (He did so with the Phaeacians)

Or maybe he went alone because she only swore an oath to not harm him and so he didn't want his men near if she decided she didn't want to let them go. I could be missing something here so feel free to say something. Idk if this was a pride thing on how "I don't want others to see me beg".

She has info he needs in order to go home as well. She tells him to go to the Underworld.

She gave him new fine clothes and put on pretty clothes herself but that doesn't mean they had sex. Nausicaa gave him nice clothes as well but he never slept with her.

Then he leaves. Immediately. Not even doing a headcount as he didn't realize one of his men had died. (That was negligence on his part but he wanted out) He booked it, to the UNDERWORLD BY THE WAY. Circe even had to sneak the animals he needed for the sacrifice. Odysseus even basically said "She's a goddess. She can do things mortals can't" at the end of the book. And it almost feels...Numb? Solemn? Neutral? Gives a "It is what it is" vibe.

But Circe got to the dark hull before us, tethered a ram and black ewe close by— slipping past unseen. Who can glimpse a god who wants to be invisible gliding here and there?

(Fagles, Book 10)

She’d slipped past us with ease, for who can see a god move back and forth, if she has no desire to be observed?

(Johnston, Book 10)

She's a goddess. She has magic. She can do whatever the fuck she wants.

NOW ON TO BOOK 12!!! That was long! GET A SNACK AND WATER! LUCKILY THIS'LL BE SHORTER!

In Book 11, Odysseus swears, upon all his loved ones in Ithaca, to Elpenor that he'd give him a proper burial as he's been "unwept, unburied". So in Book 12, he sails back to Aeaea to fulfill his promise.

But you know what's funny to me?

He didn't tell Circe he was there.

He didn't even go to greet Circe himself. He sent his men to go get Elpenor's body.

The biggest clue that he didn't love/trust her is that if she was his "Affair partner" then why not go see her for "one last night together"?

SHE came out herself and pulled him aside to know what happened and then gave more advice.

I dispatched some men to Circe’s halls to bring the dead Elpenor’s body. [...]

Nor did our coming back from Death escape Circe— she hurried toward us, decked in rich regalia, handmaids following close with trays of bread and meats galore and glinting ruddy wine. [...]

But Circe, taking me by the hand, drew me away from all my shipmates there and sat me down and lying beside me probed me for details

(Fagles, Book 12)

In every translation, it talks about how he sits, and she lounges/lies down. That's not sex 🙃 In some translations, it even says he tried to be with his shipmates but she pulled him away!

So we lay down and slept beside our ship’s stern cables. But Circe took me by the hand and led me away, some distance from the crew. She made me sit, while she stretched out beside me on the ground. 

(Johnston, Book 12)

Then, she gives advice about the sirens, Charybdis, Scylla, and her father's Cattle. He tries to ask if he could save all his men. She scolds him for even thinking he could try. He again books it out of there.

I think we all know it wasn't "love". But I think a lot of people think Odysseus was willing and happy with whatever this was. "Friends with Benefits", if you will. I guess you could see it that way but I will say that makes me feel itchy with the whole power dynamic and fear. I don't think folks who have that arrangement have to beg on their knees to ask if they can leave though.

I mean the entirety of Book 10 gives me the vibes of "Laughing uncomfortably because you don't want to upset the other person". To just grin and bear it.

A lot of this was just putting the text here and picking it apart step by step. What you do with this is up to you. It's rambling while banging pots and pans together.

Maybe you see him as drugged the entire year and still sleeping together, as the moli "wore off". Even then, just because her magic can't affect him, there are plenty of natural concoctions that can be created that can affect mortals.

Maybe you see the entire year as sex work in exchange for shelter and food.

Maybe he was just alongside his men the whole time under her roof and was avoiding her after the exchange. After he got asked by his men to finally leave, he would start to walk up to that room only to freeze and turn around, thinking "One more day won't hurt. Should wait until I know she's in a sympathetic mood".

I beg of you, however, PLEASE understand that there was fear and coercion throughout his entirety on Aeaea. He wasn't staying to get laid. While there is so much going on and too many things that are left vague to really know exactly what happened, it is consistent that he was scared/numb. Lots of people go through with things they don't really want to do just to appease others. There are plenty of situations of sexual trauma where one person goes through something and the other has no idea the other person isn't okay. ESPECIALLY WHEN SOMEONE CAN HARM THE PEOPLE YOU CARE ABOUT AT ANY MOMENT!

Sexual trauma is a very complicated thing and while he was scared, he definitely wasn't as traumatized by her as he was by Calypso. Calypso was a torturous hell while Circe was a year of walking on eggshells. Not comparable but I still think it should be acknowledged. It's wild because I read the Odyssey and kept thinking "Y'all are calling the sex slave a cheater? The guy who slept with a goddess to get his men back? The ultimate simp apparently doesn't love his wife??"

Things I'm adding that shouldn't affect the argument as it is not in the Odyssey but I want to mention as it's a "fun fact": Odysseus' dad was an Argonaut. Laertes probably met Circe as well, (or knew of her) with the whole purifying thing and maybe Odysseus heard his dad tell stories of her. Later myths also have Circe with the habit of turning her crushes (or their lovers) into something with Scylla and Picus.

In conclusion, Yeah, he was afraid of her. At least to an extent. And don't pull the whole "Ancient men didn't get raped". Male victims exist and deserve compassion for what was done to them and women are capable of sexual abuse. If you think otherwise, you are not a true feminist and Fuck you. I said in the beginning this'll be casual and I don't wanna write a fancy ending. You can still think Circe is neat but you have to know that this was fucked up.

If you think a lot of this is bullshit or wanna give more context or wish to yell with me but still know he wasn't alright on Aeaea, cool. If you want to point out mistakes or something I should keep in mind with interpretations then feel free to say so but give text evidence. If you try and bring up the Telegony and/or Madeline Miller's Circe, fuck clean off. This is Homer. If you call Odysseus a whore and not the malewife he canonically is I'll start biting. 😤

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

hi i’m so in love with the way you write roy omg!! i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is maybe the team physio and she has a daughter like around phoebes age? just like fluffy pining roy <33333

Take Your Daughter to Work Day

Roy Kent x Mom!Reader

1.9k words

Warnings: Language

I'm such a sucker for pining Roy!! And potential step-dad Roy? Oh my heart 😫

“Good morning, Mister Roy!”

Roy wasn’t expecting to see your daughter sitting in the corner of the treatment room when he walked in with your morning coffee. Despite his surprise, he offered her a smile as he handed you a to-go cup.

“Morning, Bevs,” he responded, deciding that your kid was the politest one in Phoebe’s class. He turned to you. “Didn’t know it was Take Your Daughter to Work Day. Would’ve brought her a hot chocolate.”

With a sigh, you shook your head, making sure Beverly had turned back to the book in her hands. “School was out today and tomorrow for some conference the teachers have,” you explained in a low voice. “And my mum’s still recovering from her surgery, and I couldn’t get a sitter, so Bee’s with me today.”

Roy couldn’t help the way his eyebrows flew up. “Her dad wasn’t able to help out? Thought he worked from home. It’s not like Bev needs constant supervision.”

Your grip tightened around your cup as you rolled your eyes. “It’s not his day,” you whispered, your voice full of annoyance. “Which apparently means he’s not a parent until Friday afternoon.”

“Fucking twat,” Roy snorted. He immediately remembered that there was a child in the room. “Shit. Sorry.”

The laugh that flew out of your mouth sent a shiver down his spine, especially when it was punctuated by your hand touching his bicep. “You’re fine,” you assured him, giving his arm a squeeze before letting go. “It’s completely true, anyways. Even Bee knows that, although maybe in less colorful language.”

Roy returned your smile as he watched you bring your coffee to your lips. “Right, right.”

He wondered if you knew he fancied you. You had to know. He brought you coffee every morning, was always on time for his sessions with you despite his reputation for chronic lateness, he somehow always managed to be the one to bring Phoebe to playdates with Beverly, even when his sister was available, and he knew the way he looked at you was rarely, if ever, professional. In most cases, he’d have asked you out already.

But he knew that, as a single mum, your situation was different from most cases. He saw it with his sister. You had to prioritize the wonderful little human that sat in the corner of the treatment room who called him “Mister Roy” and always gave him a hug and thanked him for rides home from school on those days that you were desperate for help. He also knew that asking you out meant more than drinks and straight to bed; it would be something real, something he’d have to commit to. And he definitely was interested in that; he just didn’t know if you thought so.

Sam Obisanya poked his head into the room, interrupting the silence. “Good morning.” His eyes found your daughter. “Oh, hey there, Beverly!”

Your daughter waved. “Good morning, Mister Sam!” Roy found it adorable the way she always called adults “Mister” or “Miss”.

“Hey, Sam,” you sighed. “Ready?”

Sam nodded and plopped himself down on your table. Roy saw your eyes shift over to Beverly. He could see it on your expression: She’s going to be so bored.

Without a second thought, Roy approached your daughter, taking his time to crouch down in front of her in spite of his knee. “Oi, Bevvie.” She looked up. “I know you’d probably rather read your book, but I’ve got all these papers in my office, they need to be put in alphabetical order. Think you could come help me with that? And maybe after you could come out on the pitch, help us with training. Then we could grab some lunch with your mum.” He looked over his shoulder at you. “Would that be alright?”

For a moment you thought you were going to cry. Fuck, Roy Kent was such a nice guy. If he wasn’t a gorgeous retired professional footballer, you’d have wanted him to ask you out ages ago. Or hell, you’d do it yourself. He was better with Bev than her own dad sometimes.

“That would be great,” you managed to choke out as you got started with Sam. “Bee?”

Beverly was already out of her seat, taking Roy’s hand in hers, book forgotten on her chair. “Can I really go out on the pitch?” she asked Roy, eyes glittering with excitement.

“Fuck yeah,” Roy assured her as he led her to the door. “You can even yell at Jamie Tartt if you want.”

As the pair passed by on their way out, you shook your head at Roy, smiling. “Thank you,” you mouthed.

With his free hand, he gently touched the small of your back. You wondered if he could feel you shiver in response. “Anytime,” he whispered in your ear. He turned his attention back to Beverly. “Let’s grab you a hot chocolate first, alright?”

~

After a morning of work, you made your way to the coaches’ office, where Beverly was sitting at Roy’s desk, drawing a picture while Roy talked with Nate and Beard. He lit up when he saw you.

“Ready for lunch?” he asked in place of a greeting.

“Sure.” You walked over to Bev and looked over her shoulder at her artwork. It was a drawing of her and Roy on the football pitch. You ruffled her hair, taking note of the whistle she wore around her neck. “Bee, did you thank the coaches for letting you hang out this morning?”

She jumped out of Roy’s seat and approached each coach, giving them a hug in turn. “Thank you, Mister Beard. Thank you, Mister Nate.” She gazed up at Roy with adoration on her little face. “Thank you, Mister Roy.” Instead of a hug, she offered him her drawing. “This is for you. For being so nice to me today.”

He blinked rapidly as he took the picture. “This is fucking great. Thanks.” Immediately, he went and pinned it on the corkboard behind his desk, where there were already several pictures made by Phoebe hanging up. He looked at you as the other coaches made themselves look busy. “Called my sister. Phoebe’s at my mum’s, said Bev’s more than welcome to hang out there this afternoon. And I can drive her home when I pick up Pheebs. She can go over tomorrow, too.”

“Oh my God, thank you.” Without thinking, you threw your arms around Roy’s neck, pulling him into a hug.

After his brain stopped malfunctioning at your touch, he let his arms wrap around your waist, returning the embrace. Over your shoulder, he could see Beard eying the two of you with raised eyebrows and offering him a cartoonish thumbs-up while Nate watched with a wistful smile. Despite Roy never saying a word, the other coaches were painfully aware of his crush on you.

Once Roy recovered from the joy of being hugged by you, he drove you and Beverly to a nearby chip shop, where he insisted on treating the two of you.

“Come on, Roy,” you pleaded as he shoved your hand away from the credit card machine. “It’s the least I can do after you helped with Bev.”

He shook his head. “Fuck no. My mum would kill me if I let a woman pay for a meal that I invited her to.” He offered you a smile as the machine read his card. “When you invite me to lunch, I’ll let you pay. Deal?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Did that mean he wanted you to ask him to grab lunch sometime? “Fine. Next one’s on me,” you conceded, hoping you didn’t sound too excited at the thought.

As the three of you sat at an outside table and ate your lunch, you couldn’t keep your eyes off Roy. The way he looked Beverly in the eye when she spoke to him and gave her his full attention wasn’t something you were used to seeing. You didn’t date too much, and you very, very rarely introduced men to your daughter. On the couple of occasions where she did meet the guy you were dating, it was never like this. Sure, they were polite and nice to her, but you could tell it was only because they were trying to make a good impression on you. None of those men stuck around much longer after meeting your daughter. And you didn’t really want them to.

But Roy was so genuine. He asked her questions and was fully invested in what she told him, and he even let her steal some of his chips after she’d finished her own. You know most of this came from his own experience as Phoebe’s devoted uncle, but you knew it was also because he was just a genuinely kind person under his gruff surface. And it only made your silly little crush grow.

As the three of you climbed back into Roy’s giant car after lunch, Roy showed you a text he’d just gotten on his mobile. “From my sister.”

Does Bev want to sleep over? I can take them both to mum’s in the morning.

“Oh, that would be great,” you said. You turned around in your seat. “Bee, d’you want to sleep over with Phoebe tonight?”

The squealing coming from the backseat gave you your answer.

By the time you arrived at Roy’s mum’s house, Beverly was so excited she barely looked at you as she leaped out of the car and sprinted to the door, where a bouncing Phoebe waited for her. You and Roy followed and said quick hellos to his mother. You gave Beverly a goodbye hug and kiss, thanked Roy’s mum, and followed Roy back to the car.

Roy opened your door for you before climbing in on his side. The short ride back to Nelson Road was much quieter without an eight-year-old chattering away in the back seat.

“Thanks again,” you finally said. “I really appreciate you helping out.”

He shook his head. “Don’t mention it. Figure this way you can focus on work, and Bev can hang with Pheebs.” His fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “Plus, now you’ve got a free evening.” He glanced sideways at you. “Got any plans?”

You shrugged, wringing your hands a bit at the interest in his voice. “Probably just take myself out to dinner. Don’t usually get to do that during the week.”

Roy nodded. “Don’t suppose you’d want some company?”

Surely, you’d heard him wrong. “Company?” you echoed.

“Only if you want,” he quickly clarified. “I know alone time’s important; my sister really likes relaxing with a glass of wine by herself, but I mean…” He shrugged, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “Might be nice. Sharing a meal together that doesn’t come in a Styrofoam box.”

“Are you going to let me pay for this one? Since I let you pay for lunch?”

A snort flew out of his nose as he pulled into his spot in the parking lot. “Fuck no. I never let a woman pay for a first date.” He offered you a small smile as the two of you climbed out of his car and met behind it. “Pick you up at six?”

In spite of your racing heart, you folded your arms coolly, returning his grin. “Sounds good. Just anything but fish and chips.”

The sound of his laughter made your heart dance. “Deal.”

[oonajaeadira]

A Welcome Home At Resolution Ranch

Fandom: Kingsman: The Golden Circle / Jack "Whiskey" Daniels

Pairing: Jack Daniels x reader

Reader: Adult female. Former agent, now the manager at a guest ranch. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T. Fluff.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, but on the edge of healing

Summary: When the news comes through that Jack met his end in Cambodia, you know better.

A/N: Well howdy, friends, and welcome to a good, soft, fix-it fic. What inspired this? @writeforfandoms did when she sent in an ask for a game....

"I wish you would write a fic where Jack is fine and nothing hurts and there are stars in the sky and there is plenty of banter and softness. Maybe horses."

Since her birfday is this week and writing Jack for each other is a love language, this is especially for her. <3

“You sure I’m ready to go on my own?”

Charity is a good girl. A little accident-prone at times, sure, but it’s mainly out of a lack of confidence. She’s got a real knack with the horses though, and you’ve learned to let her be on hand whenever the ranch has new guests check in; that million-watt smile of hers is worth a welcome mat covered in gold. She is Jack’s kin in every way, except he sucked up all the ego in the family and left little over for his niece.

Handing her the roster clipboard, you grant her an approving grin. “You grew up on these trails. You know them better than I ever will. You’re every ounce the guide any of us are. Now you’ve got eight guests riding with you this evening, two of them are about your age, and pretty handsome young gentlemen. You’re about to win the hearts of some suitors with that sweetness of yours…and if not, then for sure their grandparents. Have fun. Oh,” you remember, pointing to a name on the roster, “this lady here is a bit of a tick, but she has it bad for Morgans. Put her on Sasha and she’ll be shining so bright there’s nothing gonna dim her stars.”

“But Sasha’s your horse.”

“She won’t mind. Now get. And remember–”

Charity rolls her eyes. “Don’t let anyone tell me that they know horses better than I do, I know.”

“Good girl. Now you do a good job on your first solo run and I’ll have a big surprise waiting for you when you come back, hear?”

“I’m not a kid. I don’t need a reward.”

Turning the girl around by the shoulders and sending her off in the direction of the stables, you refrain from swatting her playfully, showing her the respect of a coworker. “And I’m not baking you cookies either. I’m not going with you tonight because I have something I gotta do. You’ll get the benefit of that thing whether you do a good job or not. I was trying to be encouraging.”

Her black braid swings down her back as she walks off to her task–both excited and scared, clutching the clipboard with both hands. 

“Oh, and Charry?” She stops to turn and listen. “Don’t put anyone on Whiplash. Leave her in the stable tonight.”

Once she’s given you a nod and marched out of sight, you wander back into the main lodge and relieve everyone for a few hours. You’re ready to take the front desk on your own. No worries, you explain, there’s only one guest booked to come in in the next hour and everyone else is out on the twilight ride. You’ll take it from here.

Once the lobby is quiet, you prop yourself out on the porch in a rocking chair with your boots up on the railing, tip your hat down low, and keep your eyes on the horizon--gradually more pink and gold by the minute--where any cars coming over the mile-long driveway can’t pass your notice.

It’s been six years now since you were secretly decommissioned from Statesman and your agent status revoked. Emotional trauma is a hell of a thing, and some agents take a beating. When head of the organization deems an agent unfit for duty with needs of long-term recovery and care, it’s their call to order it and–with the help of one other top officer–secretly install the probationed agent in a situation where they are anonymous and removed from any society that they could harm or could harm them. The organizational file would relate how the agent was killed in action, with the true story being kept by the two in charge. A total erasure of personage, total disappearance.

If and when the agent passed an evaluation and elected to return, they became extremely valuable as a secret operative, since everyone would assume they were deceased. 

If they decided not to return, the agency made sure they were provided for. For life.

Sometimes they came back; thrill of the hunt, what they know best and all that. But overall, the return rate was low. Something about a slow down calls after a life of deception.

In your case, Jack was chosen as Champ’s second and–having always been one of the only agents that damn cowboy liked working with–suggested you head up his family ranch for your rehab period. Tasked you with making it a nice working vacation ranch for families. Came out and visited you often enough to make sure you were getting on.

And, of course, to make sure you were getting off too. 

There was a lot of hay on property, and Jack was a damn nice rolling partner. Said that he liked that he never had to pretend with you. Not now, not ever.

And you always felt exactly the same.

But the timing was never perfect. And the world had always needed one or the other of you to save it.

Distractions.

After the requisite five year probation, Champ and Jack made the ceremonial trip out and asked if you’d like to be re-evaluated and “reborn”. As much as you’d been itching during the first couple of years to get back in the game, the quiet life had softened your body and won your heart. You’d gained the trust of the employees. Knew all the horses and their idiosyncracies by heart. It had become your home. Walking away to spend days without sleep, lying, taking lives without stopping to think twice….just didn’t appeal anymore.

With Champ’s understanding, you had respectfully retired, and with Jack’s blessing, you’d planted yourself permanently. The ranch was your calling. Your heart. Even with some of Jack’s relatives working and living here it could get lonely at times, but then you’d catch yourself watching the fireflies in the sunset or riding Sasha through a particularly pretty meadow and everything seemed right with the world.

And hells. If the lack of companionship was the only thing you had to complain about, well the universe must have heard. It’s rung the hospitality bell for you.

Taking the letter out of your pocket, you glance over it one more time. An announcement of an agent down. Cambodia. Drug conspiracy. Agents Galahad, Galahad, and Merlin of Kingmen, London. Agent Whiskey showing mental trauma and poor judgment. A violent engagement. A meat grinder. Signed by Head Agent Champagne.

So that’s the story they assigned him, huh. A meat grinder? Really? So stupid. But then, you got to assist in penning your own death, so it makes all the sense in the world that Jack got to have a say in his. Of course he was going to go out in the corniest way possible, of course he was.

Tsk. A meat grinder. Jesus.

Before long, the stars are starting to peek out and there’s a plume of dust on the horizon. Then a black car at the core of it, making its way along the drive. By the time it pulls up in front of the porch, you’ve hidden the letter back in your pocket, stood and made your way to the bottom of the steps. 

Two doors open. From the front a driver emerges, short and sturdy, young and hale, heading for the trunk to retrieve luggage. But when the back door opens, there’s the duo of a boot and a Stetson which emerge together then unfold into a tall, cool drink of Jack Daniels.

It’s a showdown at twilight, but you both keep your hearts in your holster for the time being and instead reach for your sass. “Driver? This here’s a working ranch, so you can just leave the luggage. Guests here are required to haul their own.”

They do as they’re told with a nod, dropping two suitcases and a duffel in the dust. The whole time Jack stands, unmoving, hands on hips, watching with a bemused incredulity as the driver then simply gets back behind the wheel and literally drives off into the sunset, leaving Jack's bags like carrion.

“Well shit. Is that any way to welcome a man home?”

“Maybe I just wanted you all to myself, cowboy. You ever think of that?”

There’s a delicious moment underscored by cricket strings that allows for both of your grins to stretch to full capacity.

But still, he’s a man whose wind has abandoned his sails and you both know why he’s here. It doesn’t mean he’s not still Jack Daniels though. And while he might not come at you with an oppressive swagger, he still comes to you, the cockiness giving way to a genuine fondness.

“Well. Hello, gorgeous.”

“Let me guess,” you tease, opening your arms to guide him to his landing, “You have a pack of cold ones and your roomie’s out so I can scream your name as loud as I want.”

His embrace is more than just happiness to see you. It’s heavy with relief, with longing. He needs it from you as much as you from him, and he hums low into your neck as he lifts you so that your toes just leave the ground before plopping you back down. This is the point where the usual hug might end, but he stays. He stays just a few more breaths and you can tell he’s taking a cure in the moment.

“Come on, cowboy,” you hum into his shoulder. “Let me help you with these bags. I prepared the best room in the house for you.”

Silently, you both heft a suitcase and he takes the extra duffel, and you make it up the stairs of the main house to the biggest bedroom and flip on the light.

“Isn’t this your bedroom, Brandy?”

Throwing a suitcase on the quilted bed you shake a finger at him. “Uh uh uh, that’s not my name anymore, Whiskey.”

He follows suit, unburdening himself. “And that’s not mine. Belongs to Ginger now.”

You can’t--and won't--hide your delight. “Well hot shit. Good for her. She’s always wanted to go out into the field.” But it’s also bittersweet. It's been six years. “How is my girl?” 

“Oh, she’s doing real fine. Took over as Champ’s right hand when I went out and Tequila hopped the pond to work for those Brits.”

“Damn. Well, I’m proud of her. I wish I could tell her. If I could have just had one more agent to keep in touch with….wait.” Something in Jack’s little smile gives you pause. “Waaaaait a minute. Did she–???”

He finishes the thought for you. “With the transfer of title, she also became Champ’s number two. So she’s got access your retirement file. I’m sure she’ll be booking a vacation here soon enough.”

Turning to the window and clamping a hand over your mouth, you hold your own reflection and do your best to keep the tears for later. It’s been six years and your old friend is in Kentucky right now, finding out any day now that you’re not dead after all, that you’re only a plane ride away. A long dreamed-for reunion is coming. Oh god. 

But Jack’s here now, and he’s going to need your support. And of course he’ll demand your attention–”You never answered my question. Where are you sleeping if I’m in here?”

Turning to him, you wink. “Who said I was moving out of this room?” His blush signals that you’ve just out-Jacked Jack Daniels. Stepping in closer, you take his hand. “Hey. I just wanted to give you a view of the stables. If you want me here, I’ll share the room with you. If not, the guest room is free and I’m comfortable sleeping there too. This is your home now, cowboy. I want you to see the sun in the morning. Give you a reason to get up every day.”

“Sunshine’s wherever you are, partner. It’d actually be real nice to have a reason to stay in bed.”

His words spread through you like a good bourbon. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” It’s a warm moment, new for both of you. Instead of the thrill of the promise of sharing a bed and the obvious adventure that awaits, you have something now that you both never had before–time. Time to hold. Time to breathe. Time to heal and take it soft and slow. “Come on, cowboy. I wanna show you something.”

Picking up his Stetson from the bed, you place it lovingly on his head, your fingertips lingering as they trail down his sideburns. He wears the hat well, and the facial hair. And the deep adoration. Before he gets lost in the moment, you lead him out of the main house and down toward the stables.

“So. A meat grinder.”

He grins as he watches his feet, big hands swinging at his side. “Can’t blame a man for people wanting to remember his demise. That one’ll be talked about.”

“Little over the top, isn’t it?”

“That’s the way I went in, apparently.”

“Stupidest death I’ve ever heard of.”

“But you’ll remember it, won’t you.”

Rolling your eyes, you lead him to one of the front stalls of the stable. “Yeah, but I’d never believe it. Jack Daniels? Taken down by an unarmed, unstable agent and his apprentice? This hulk of a man tossed around and yanked into a grinder as if there’s one big enough to take you?”

“You’re real hung up on the meat grinder part, aren’t you. You do know the target was actually processing people and making them into burgers, right? I don’t see why it’s so unbelievable–” But he stops like stone when you reach your target stall. “Is that…Well slap my chaps. That’s the prettiest mustang I’ve ever seen.”

“You like her?” Clicking your tongue, the lithe and beautiful bay immediately comes to you, tossing her mane, ready for the apple you’ve got on offer. And when you hide it behind your back, she knows to put her nose to yours, to nuzzle you gently. “This is Whiplash. Fast as a shooting star and twice as bright. Picked her out myself. Helped Charity to train her up, which is why she’s also sweet. That girl has the patience of a saint. Must get it from the other side of the family. But this mare was a passion project for both of us. Thought you might like to claim her,” you say, handing the apple over to him and, with it, Whiplash’s attentions. “Anytime you need to clear your head, she’ll run you to the moon and back.”

Jack holds out the apple reverently with one hand, running the other along the mare’s neck. “Always wanted a mustang. Thought I’d have to settle for the automotive variety. They’re not the kind of horse you keep at a pedestrian ranch for just anyone to ride.”

“I know. It was meant to be a surprise for your next visit. But now that you’re here to stay, she’s even more yours than she was before.”

Now it’s Jack’s turn to hold those tears for later, his beautiful brown eyes gathering up all the rising moonlight. Swallowing hard, he gives you a nod, a thanks that he can’t put into words just yet. Instead, he deflects. “Where is my favorite niece?”

“Your only niece is out leading a twilight ride. It’s her first lead. I told her I’d have a reward waiting for her when she got back as long as all the guests are alive and kicking. She doesn’t know you’re coming yet.”

He nods. Goes back to petting Whiplash. The full day and the journey finally come to settle on him and all his thoughts seem to rise to the surface and float in his tired expression.

You reach out. Hook a finger in his belt loop and give it a coy tug. “Hey. Can I ask you...what happened, Jack?”

He has to take a breath. Two. Then he gives Whiplash a final pat and takes your hand, weaving it through the crook of his arm, and you wander out into the darkening pasture together.

The mission was nearly doomed from the start. With Tequila down and Harry still recovering and Eggsy still green, it was just a mess. It didn’t help that his heart wasn’t in it, that he kept thinking about his loss so many years ago, that maybe it was better if all the addicts were just taken down in one fell swoop so they could stop hurting themselves and everyone else. Running the New York branch and distribution on top of fucking saving the world every five minutes–the burnout was getting to him and just made him fixate more. 

Harry saw through him but misinterpreted his reluctance. Harry shot him to take him out of commission, knowing full well that Ginger could fix him. Jack went back into action too soon, too hot. Went straight to Cambodia. Joined in the fray. Ended up taking out his rage on Poppy and brutally jamming a needle in her neck, overdosing and killing her rather than neutralizing her and taking her in as he should have. Harry and Eggsy were kind. Stood up for him with Champ. Helped to corroborate a story so he could step down. Jack let the record show that they were the heroes so they could go back to the Kingsmen in triumph and he could heal in peace.

This is what surprises you the most.

That Jack let himself go down as the bad guy.

“You could have just said you were taken down by one of Poppy’s men and walked away a martyr.”

He simply watches the first fireflies come out in answer to the first stars, squeezes your hand a little tighter, shakes his head. “If I’d had my head in the game, a good agent wouldn’t have died. Merlin. His name was Agent Merlin. Damn fine man. And if Harry and Eggsy hadn’t been the excellent agents they are, my lapse of judgment could have killed a lot more folks. This is my way to atone.”

“And there’s no way in hell you’d let anyone think you got taken down by some nameless thug.”

“Shit. Got me there.”

All you can do is show agreement with a knowing nod. “You know, when I first came out here, I couldn’t wait to leave. But you knew, didn’t you. You knew that I needed this.”

“I did.”

“Cocky bastard,” you mumble in loving admonishment. “Did you understand that you were nearing the end too? That you were sending me out here to give me time to be ready to bring you home?”

“I wasn’t aware of it at the time, probably a little too confident to ever think I should stop.” He turns to you, a sweet little apology in the corner of his smile. “But maybe a little part of me knew.”

“Yeah, that little part of you has gotten me into trouble before.”

He huffs a little laugh, tilts your chin up with a knuckle. Still holding your hand and sliding it inside his jacket against his chest he whispers, “Ain’t the part I was talking about, sweetheart.”

When he kisses you, it’s a different Jack than the one you used to settle for on occasion. This Jack is ready to put down his revolvers and his whip, ready to concentrate on himself, on you, on a life far from trouble. His kiss holds in it the promise of summer sunsets and long trail rides, of barbecues and lemonade and lazy mornings sleeping in. And there will be stars that are brighter...and nights under them for just the two of you. It’s a kiss that leaves no doubt that there will be many more to follow, each one with its own brand of sweetness and a happy ending well-earned.

No more distractions.

Time enough.

_____

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

[ladykinrannoch]

Reading - Aging Camilla, what is the cause, is there blackmail underway?

So today, across time zones @celticcrossanon, CC, reached out regarding an initial reading she had done regarding why Camilla appears to have aged so much in a week based on her appearance at the Commonwealth service and after a week's holiday. It so happens that I was considering a very similar reading. CC had picked up some kind of blackmail energy or threatening energy towards Camilla and so she asked me to check it. I did a comparative pull that suggested that H was involved somehow in a negative way possibly blackmail/extortion, some kind of control. Some of the cards we got were the same. So together we reframed the questions from two different points of view in a way that the readings we would do would be a duet. Meant to be read as a pair. So please head over there after here to read the partner reading.

We agreed that I would read on whether Harry is "blackmailing" Camilla which has hence caused her to age from stress so quickly in a week, while @celticcrossanon would focus the same/similar question regarding Harry's intentions or actions towards Charles.

So here is my reading with Cosmic Tarot, which always seems to be able to tap into the most elusive of energies.

Situation Card:

The Queen of Sword RX - This queen in reverse signals other peoples pointless interference in a situation, while the situation needs order, at this point disorder reigns. This is also broken promises, or dare I say the revealing of secrets. This is a very tricky, very nasty, very spiteful energy. If any card suggests revenge it is this one in Rx. So this is telling me that Harry really holds a nasty grudge against Camilla and so far in my feeling around this card, he hasn't hurt her enough to satisfy himself. In Rx today it has something of a sadistic brutal feeling to it. So onto the main question....

Is Harry blackmailing Camilla?

Ace of Swords - Yes, this is a big fat yes. He believe that he has something that she doesn't want known, its about a concept, a decision or a business arrangement. Allegedly, he is using this to blackmail her for either influence over Charles or money.

What could the blackmail be about?

The Lovers Rx - The fated lovers. This is about relationships out of balance and the shadow side of each partner in a relationship. The initial values and attraction of the couple have been corrupted. Does H know something about the marriage of Charles and Camilla? This is about unequal treatment in a relationship, betrayal and dishonesty. It also represents the bondage, lust, materialism and addiction of the Devil card when the Lovers goes Rx. Does he have evidence that the marriage is invalid? Or that she is super controlling, or something else damaging. It could also the the level of betrayal he has stooped to with this alleged kind of action of blackmail.

Remember what he tried to suggest about the HM QueenEll being controlled by not the right people and he Harry, hero was popping in to make sure the "right people" were around her! Like he has absolutely no input to the appointment of courtiers, so it was all innuendo. But this time he might think he has some proof, evidence he can threaten to release that might make her pay up or do his bidding? At this point I would not put anything passed the Hasshole he has become...

What is Harry threatening to do?

Eight Wands - this is usually a positive card and good news, but it sits right under Queen Swords RX that nasty energy I spoke about at the beginning. Is he threatening her with sending out whatever information he thinks he has to all and sundry, because this is fast moving energy, so like an email to everyone. A sword of Damacles above her head. With the Queen of Swords, it also feels rash and unpredictable. Its not much different to writing a book filled with unsubstantiated claims and accusations. Clearly he wants assurances to keep his titles and money. so maybe he is telling her to influence the King to do his bidding, or else! There is a clear veiled threat here with these two cards working in concert.

Outcome Card:

Prince of Cups - This surprised me in this spread. I am not sure why this showed up. Traditionally this is prince William energy, it is a very gorgeous depiction. Usually it is a love prospect and offer of love or a wedding proposal, which clearly William is not going to offer to Camilla, so I am going to discard William's energy here and see this as an offer of assistance from somewhere. We will draw a clarifier at the end.

Underlying energy:

The Moon - This is traditionally a crisis of faith a period of emotional vulnerability. So this is suggesting Camilla's state I think in the face of this alleged threat or blackmail, she really is feeling exposed and vulnerable. She can't be sure he is telling the truth (no one can my dear, so don't feel bad!). It also suggests that she is in extreme emotional conflict and personal, private struggle. so that could be why she looked particularly aged at the CW service, i.e. not just H. Regarding home life it means feeling disillusioned, in regard to relationships it means confusion and disappointment, and in career it means having achieved the goal but feeling in the end it was not worth the effort. In career it also has a warning to protect yourself from others negativity.

Clarifiers:

Clarifier on Prince of Cups. The Hierophant - okay, now this makes more sense. there is an offer of support or assistance via the institution or agencies associated via government/church. Kind of like when you call in hostage negotiators. So is there an offer for some agency, MI5 or 6, can't remember which one deals with home threats and which with foreign threats. This also represents wise advice but also cautions you to do what is right if you have been having doubts about a decision or choice. So I think Camilla accepts an offer of help in dealing with whatever kind of threat is going on.

In concluding this reading I was drawn to the next card on the bottom of the deck, and the one after it, so I include them here.

The Tower - So the main underlying energy of the Moon represents a level of deception and illusion, where someone tells you they know something XY, but really they are taking a chance that they might be right. They delude you into believing they know more than they know. Could this be what has happened, will the evidence he claims to have ever be forthcoming (he frequently seems to lack real evidence), or is it a case he is torturing her with good guesses and trickery in order to keep his titles and a regular pay check coming his way. If that is what he is up to.... with the presence of this card, I think the advice from counsel will be to expose him and topple him. Often the only way to get rid of a blackmailer is put the accusation out yourself take the blame and move on. So the presence of the Tower suggests one or both go down. This is the energy of toppling a leader, destroying someone's reality. It takes everything back to the bare foundation. I am inclined to say that the advice would be to expose any and all current blackmail situations yourselves so as not to be the victim any longer. Pull off the plaster, do it once, deal with the consequences/criticism and move on.

The Four of Wands - This is a restoration of stability for the family after the trauma of the Tower. It could signal a solution depending on the nature of such alleged blackmail for example, there could be an immediate abdication and transition of power to William, which would be a fast and easy transition. Depending of course on how sore that plaster was to tear off!

[dreamingomens]

for me?

CW: mentions of blood/murder, manipulation and gaslighting

this is my first actual piece of writing so bare with me if it sucks 😩

a quick blossoming romance is a nice way to describe the situation that occurred with you and ethan. from the moment you two met, everyone could practically see the sparks flying. he followed you like a lost puppy for weeks until he had the actual courage to ask you out on a date. ethan was a great boyfriend, he truly was. he did everything in his power to make you happy. you were his top priority, even if it meant to suffer his happiness. he would do ANYTHING for you.

if someone told you in three months that the love of your life would be standing in front of you and your friends with a bloody knife that was dripping in chads blood, you would think it was a sick joke.

as the curly brunette took his mask off, a sick smile displayed on his face.

"hi, honey." he smirked. he was eager for this moment. he was finally going to get the recognition he deserved for all his hard work he did for you.

as tears brimmed your eyes, you couldn't help but take in the facial expressions displayed on tara and sam's face. they were hurt, but certainly not as hurt as you.

this is the same boy you helped make a cardboard knight costume with at two in the morning. the same boy who used to organize his comic books in alphabetical order. how was he capable of such gruesome murders?

the gears in your brain started to turn as the puzzle pieces slowly started to fit. it all made sense.

the professor that gave you a failing grade who was found days later butchered in the ally.

poor anika who spoke negatively on your relationship with ethan.

chad who expressed his concerns about the friend group falling apart if anything were to happen with the relationship.

"you.. YOU did this?" your shaky voice croaked out.

"not alone." quinn spoke out from her hidden spot behind her father. "you seriously didn't see this coming, y/n?"

in quinn's eyes, she was getting revenge for her brother- richie. ethan begged for his family to spare you. he broke the one rule his father put in place.. don't get attached. ethan clearly didn't want to listen. he never had someone have genuine feelings for him. how could he let this opportunity slip from his hands? he might not have this opportunity ever again. he needed to keep you in his hands forever.

"you tricked me..."

ethan flinched at these words. he did have genuine love for you. couldn't you see that? would he have gutted your professor in an alley if he didn't? did you see him differently? how couldn't you be happy knowing he did all of this for you!

"tricked you? no.. no i SAVED you." he explained. "if it wasn't for me, quinn would've killed you when she had the chance. did you ever think how EVERYONE in our lives were targeted except you? that's because of me, honey. i did that for YOU. for US. we can be happy now without anyone getting in the way!" he didn't see anything wrong with his actions. how could he?

"you're a monster" you croaked out

"great. we kept your little bitch alive for nothing." quinn rolled her eyes. "i told you she wouldn't understand or appreciate it."

"well.. you know what to do." wayne bailey kicked at his feet and looked at the ground.

"get them."

[laurellerual]

Arya and Sansa storyswap: an exercise in imagination

Premise: I tried to speculate what might happen if Sansa manages to escape King's Landing and Arya gets stuck in the capital. I collected my thoughts on this scenario trying to make logical, credible choices that respected the characterization of the characters and the timeline of the books (the wiki was very usefull for this). I discarded all the scenarios that end in "…and then she dies horribly" because they're boring. I write with assumption that they would still remain POV characters and therefore mantain a minimum of plot armor. Like everyone, I have my biases so it's not perfect, but I tried to put myself in the most neutral mindset possible. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts. Part 1, Part 3

Part 2/3: Arya

A Game of Thrones 

For Arya to remain trapped in King's Landing, she must be captured by the Lannister men. I think she would manage to escape the Red Keep anyway, at least at first.

The factor I'd choose to change is in Arya V. The girl is in Flea Bottom when she sees the Winds Witch hasn't left yet. She approaches, but this time the guards in disguise decide to arrest her. Why? In this scenario both Stark girls have been lost, so the Lannister men have orders to to be extra scrupulous, the situation is serious. They can't afford any more mistakes, they'll capture every slightly suspicious child.

Arya is brought to the queen who confirms her identity and is then locked in Maegor's Holdfast. Needle is taken from her by one of her captors (ser Meryn?): perhaps he keeps it as a trophy, perhaps it's thrown into the royal armory. Jeyne is locked up with her. The servants come to bring food, but do not answer her questions. She is brought suitable clothes, many of these are Sansa's because the trunk with Arya's things got lost in stables. She waits and fears that her father is dead.

Ser Boros comes to collect her on the third day, while she walks she looks around searching for a way to escape. They pass the pikes and for a moment Arya is sure that he's accompanying her to her death. She'll be executed for what happened on the Trident and she can't help but wonder if the reason for all this carnage is to punish the Starks for when she hited Joffrey. Actually she's accompanied in front of the queen who welcomes her with smiles and kind words… a facade, Cersei has never been that kind to her. The girl is relieved to know that her father is alive, but when she asks about Sansa she receives no answer. Does that mean she's dead?

Cersei prepared a letter for Arya to copy and sign to send to her family. The contents are similar to those in canon. Arya reads it, but she has a flash of courage: "My father is no traitor!". Joffrey is a liar! But she doesn't say this out loud. The manipulative kindness is over, Cersei nods at Blount. The knight hits her in the face and breaks her lip. Cersei says that if she doesn't comply they will kill both her and her father. It's a bluff but Arya doesn't know it and it's now clear that they have no qualms about hurting her so she starts copying. She hopes that the stilted style in which the letter is written will be enough to make Robb understand that this are not her words. Arya is locked back in her new room, but Jeyne is no longer there.

Cersei complains about Arya's behavior, 'The girl is as wild as a filthy animal'. If she lets her get close to Joffrey the girl might attack him again. Or he could have her killed and they would lost an hostage. However it's necessary for the girl to be seen attending court or no one will believe that she is really in their hands. If they keep her hidden for too long word might spread that she is dead. Littlefinger proposes to avoid this risks by using Jeyne, Sansa's friend, as Arya's public image.

The real Arya is not allowed to participate in Joff's first court session. She has not proven to be loyal and obedient enough and therefore she's not allowed to move inside the Red Keep. She can't leave the room and has no information. The servants change every day so she can't befriend them. The time she spends awake is spent thinking of a way to escape.

She sleeps alot, and when she sleeps she dreams: she begins to dream of being a cat roaming free, the true king of the castle. She dreams to flee the Keep, hiding in Flea Bottom and then she sees a crowd, she follows and she sees… her father. His head falling off. She wakes up screaming! She tells herself it's just a nightmare, but it feels too real. She wants to cry, to die, she wants to kill Joffrey. Joffrey and Cersei, sir Ilyn, sir Meryn and the Hound: she begins to pray every night for their deaths.

One day Joffrey discovers where she is locked and arrives with the Hound and two white cloaks. They force her to get up and get dressed. He takes her to her pikes to taunt her and show her his father's head. Arya has confirmation that the dream was true. Joffrey baits her for a reaction,… if only looks could kill. She takes a step forward and the Hound throws her to the ground and she gets beaten up.

The Hound takes her back to her room and reminds her that Joffrey wants her dead, if she wants to continue living she has to try harder to not get killed. Arya doesn't give a damn about her life right now. After she calms down she decides that if she wants to see her mother again she has to pretend and play along. From this day on she'll wear the mask of the perfect lady to convince Cersei to allow her to leave the room. Only like this she could have a chance to escape.

A Clash of Kings

After what happened Cersei decides to throw her in a real cell. This is first of all to punishing Arya, but also to keep her away from Joff because the girl is the only leverage she have to free Jaime.

At this point Sansa receives a message to meet with Dontos. Littlefinger may still consider using Arya to gain power and get back on Ned/Cat. But the problem is that Arya isn't free to go to the Godswood alone. Given the situation, Littlefinger may decide it's not worth trying to free her from the Lannisters. Also this Stark sister doesn't look enough like her mother for his tastes.

Meanwhile, Jeyne attends Joffrey's birthday celebrations as fakeArya and Dontos dies. Tyrion arrives in the city to take Tywin's place as Hand of the King. At the tournament for his nephew he meets Jeyne and offers his condolences, but he can't help to notice that something is wrong. She looks older, her eyes are brown, and although her hair is the right color, up close it's clear that she doesn't look much like either Lord Stark or Jon Snow.

Arya has been in a cell for days now, she feels small and helpless like a mouse. One night she starts dreaming again, but this time it's different, she dreams of being a direwolf running free in the woods. She leads an immense pack and hunts every man who wears the Lannister lion. A bit of hope is rekindled in her. One night, in the distance, she sees a girl: it's her sister.

Tyrion begins to ask questions about what happened to the real Arya Stark and discovers the conditions in which she is incarcerated. He has her taken to the Tower of the Hand and allows her to wash and eat. Arya tries to find a secret passage, there has to be one, she thinks, but she can't find it. The idea of sleeping in a real bed overcomes her and she falls asleep. In the morning Tyrion introduces himself and tells her about Robb's recent victory. He jokes about the rumors that her brother has an army of wargs (like in Sansa III). 'Warg'! Yes, that's what those creatures were called in old Nan's stories! She wonders if... maybe she is a warg, and that's why she managed to see her father's death even though she wasn't there.

As in canon, Tyrion offers the Stark girl his protection. Sansa doesn't accept because she doesn't trust him and she has decided to point on Dontos' plan. As we have seen, her sister does not have this option to consider and therefore she accepts Tyrion's protection. Arya doesn't trust him, but she has no real choice if she wants to get out of her cell. Plus the Imp isn't that bad, sure he's a Lannister, but he's the only person who's done anything to help her so far. She doesn't want to be pitied by him, but there's something about that man that she likes. Maybe he reminds her a little bit of Jon, he reminds her a little bit of herself.

Her few belongings are taken to the Tower of the Hand and Chella becomes her personal guard. No matter how wary she is, Arya can't help but find the wildling woman intriguing. In order to avoid losing the few freedoms she has obtained, Arya continues to pretend docility and obedience. Over time this allows her to get out of there to pray in the Godswood, but when she tries to escape the guards catch her, beat her and lock her back in the tower.

In the eyes of the courtiers Jeyne remains the true Lady Stark. The two girls are kept apart and never met. One day she hears rumors about Arya Stark's supposed death: Jeyne was lost during the Bread Riots. The Lannisters refuse to give rise to these rumors and to dispel them they announce an engagement between Arya Stark and Lord X (Tyrion maybe?). Arya hasn't flowered so they won't get married for now, but time passes and the risk becomes more real every day.

Every now and then she still has cat dreams, wandering around the castle, listening to conversations, she even managed to scratch Joffrey once. One night she dreams of being a kitten and enters Tommen's rooms, cats like to go there. Her attention is drawn by a familiar gleam: hanging on the wall, display lika a toy, is Needle. The handle is different, richer, red and golden, but the shape of the blade and Mikken's mark are unmistakable.

During the Battle of the Blackwater Arya is taken to the Queen's Ballroom in Maegor's Holdfast, along with the other ladies of the castle so that Cersei can keep an eye on her. As per canon the queen gets drunk, she leaves and panic takes over the room. Arya sees her chance, she takes advantage of the confusion to exit the ballroom.

Arya runs to find an escape or at least a place to hide, but suddenly realizes that she is in a familiar hallway, just outside Tommen's door. The little prince was brought to Rosby to protect him so his rooms are empty and unguarded. Here we need a bit of luck because it's crazy, but Arya can't abandon Needle. She tries in every way to get in and under this pressure she manages to warg for the first time while she's awake. She use a cat to open the door and retrieve her sword. She steals a cloak and some male clothes, the least extravagant she can find.

She wanders around the Holdfast looking for an opening but there's no secret passage in Maegor's Holdfast. In the corridors she meets a soldier, but manages to kill him by taking him by surprise. In the end she comes across Sandor Clegane, drunk and crying and trying to get away from the battle. The Hound recognizes her and in a moment of madness wraps her in her cloak, throws her on his shoulder and run.

The Hound is not at all kind to Arya and the two have not had the opportunity to bond like with Sansa in canon. He doesn't care about Arya's will, he wouldn't ask her, he would only see it as an opportunity to leave and ask Robb Stark for a ransom. So Sandor kidnaps Arya, cuts her hair, and ties her on his horse. The two escape the city and start a their journey north.

Tywin arrives in King's Landing and is proclaimed "Savior of the City". Then he finds out that Cersei and Tyrion lost their last Stark hostage and he has a nervous breakdown (lol).

A Storm of Swords

During the journey, Sandor and Arya's relationship evolves pretty much like in canon. The two don't like each other, but over time they manage to coexist without killing each other. Arya learns some useful lessons about "where the heart is". But one day some outlaws capture them...

[scarlettjohanssons-mistress]

If ur requests r open, can u write about natasha romanoff x female reader? With natasha being protective/possessive, like say somebody gets to mean with the reader, and nat just calms us down and makes us feel safe with her.

Hope ur doing ok, and everything's going well for u author 😁

I protect you

Warnings: Non-Graphic Violence, past violence, protective Natasha Romanoff, emotional hurt/comfort

Word count: 0.9 K

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Y/N's past comes to hurt her

Requests: OPEN

[Main masterlist] [Marvel masterlist]

When Y/N told Natasha everything she had to suffer in her past relationship; Natasha had a feeling she hadn't had in years: she felt her blood turn to ice.

How could someone, who supposedly loved you, be able to cause so much pain and suffering to a being as small as Y/N?

She promised herself that she would do everything in her power so that Y/N would never have to go through a situation like this again.

Natasha was known for being an amazing interpreter of body language, so she knew Y/N's every move and expression; she knew when she was happy, when she was sad, and when she was uncomfortable, just as she had when she found out about Tony's special guests for his most recent party.

Tony Stark had met a new rich man, his name was Jeremy Hudson, who had quickly become a new friend of the billionaire avenger, so it was not surprising that Jeremy was a new guest at Tony's annual party.

But apparently Tony wasn't the only Jeremy acquaintance at the compound.

———————————————————————————

"Do you think it's an appropriate dress for the party?"

Y/N left the bathroom to stand in front of her girlfriend and walk around.

Natasha put down her book, while her eyes roamed every inch of her girl's body, making her mouth go a little dry.

“Damn baby, you look…so sexy”

"Nat! Are you listening to me?"

“Of course I am listening to you”

"So… isn't it too much for the party?"

"Are you kidding?, darling, you look beautiful" Natasha quickly got up, standing behind her girlfriend, who was still looking at her dress in the full mirror of her room, the redhead posing her arms around Y/N's hips "The only problem I see is that… I'm going to want to take off your dress all night” Natasha began to kiss her girlfriend's bare neck.

“Nat, don't start. Better change your pajamas for your dress, the party guests are almost starting to arrive"

“But принцесса…”

"No, no принцесса… come on, it's late"

And without further ado, Y/N walked away from his girlfriend's arms, leaving Natasha with a big playful smile.

“You are playing with fire, doll…”

———————————————————————————

Everything had gone relatively smoothly, with Y/N and Natasha being playful and having an amazing time, until Y/N had gotten tired of playing cards with Wanda, Vision, Bucky, Sam and Nat

"I'm going for a drink, anyone like something?"

“Could you bring a margarita?” Wanda asks

"Sure, do you want something, love?" Now, she ask Natasha directly

"No thanks, beauty"

Carefully, Y/N got up from Natasha's lap and started walking over to the bar. Y/N ordered her drink and Wanda's drink, standing next to the bar, unable to prevent a body colliding with her

"Sorry" The body's eyes focused on Y/N's eyes, causing the girl's eyes to fill with panic, while the man's eyes filled with mockery and amusement. “But it's nothing more than Y/N. How have you been, doll?"

How long could it take to make a damn margarita?

———————————————————————————

Natasha thought Y/N was taking too long, she even felt something tighten in her chest.

“Y/N is taking too long…” Natasha commented as she stopped paying attention to the game.

"Calm down, Romanoff, you're exaggerating" Sam spoke

Of course, they didn't know Y/N like she did, only she would know that it's unbecoming of the smallest girl to be alone at a party. Her girl is clingy enough to want to be away from her girlfriend for more than a minute.

Carefully, she got up and put the cards aside, her eyes searching the room for Y/N, until finding her, in front of the bar, much smaller than normal before the body of an unknown man.

The redhead could read how her girlfriend's body was completely uncomfortable, even wanting to escape, so she quickly walked up to her to make her presence known.

"Hello my love" the redhead kissed her girlfriend's cheek, feeling her body relax at her touch

"Are you her new partner?" asked the hoarse voice of the man

The furious gaze of the redhead settled on the ugly face of the man, finding it a bit familiar, while still hugging the small waist of her girl.

"Yes who are you?"

"Her ex-boyfriend"

The redhead's green eyes met Y/N's just to see the affirmation in them.

Natasha felt how the blood began to bubble in her veins, wanting to remove the stupid smile from him disgusting face.

"What do you want asshole?"

"None of your business" he took the glass full of rum and took a drink "Wow, Y/N knew you were a slut, but not enough to date another slut"

Without further ado, Natasha's fist impacted his face, feeling how the bones of the man's nose were breaking before the fist. The other avengers quickly ran to help the man, but seeing that Natasha was the one who had hit the man and Y/N was crying uncontrollably, they knew that it had been for something justifiable.

Natasha wiped her fist on a napkin and took her girlfriend's arm, leading her to their shared room.

With both of them already inside, they closed the door and quickly the redhead's arms wrapped around her girlfriend's body, running her hands reassuringly over her girlfriend's back, trying to stop her crying.

"Don't cry anymore, малыш, I swear that idiot is never going to hurt you again" he began to distribute kisses all over the hairline "I'm never going to let my princess get hurt"

"You swear?" whispered Y/N's small voice

"Of course, no one harms what is mine, and you, my love, are mine."

Translation:

принцесса - Princess

малыш - Baby

Note:

I hope everything goes well for you too, honey. Happy Holidays

I hope you enjoy it

I appreciate the reblogs, the likes and the comments

taglist: @littlebitchsposts

message me or send an ask to be added to my taglist!

[mbakuetshurisprincess]

Anything But Love Part 2

AN: Hello my loves! First, I’m gonna apologize for disrespecting the sanctity of democracy, I hope you all can forgive me maybe. Love for Duties Sake Part 5 is still 150% coming, I’m just trying to be a good person, and A. Not make it a book. And B. Actually give them some peace for once in their lives (spoiler alert it’s not going well)  SO yeah here's this gem of a story while I work on that, Shuri is once again a brat but maybe just maybe she doesn't actually mean to be a brat? Idk crazy idea. Y’all asked for Y/N to have a little bit of bite to her, I hope I did that lol. Blame two of your favorites on here for this coming out this morning instead of last night-

As always this is dedicated to the lovely @pinkwright, I simply exist to write fake dating for them.

Summary: Being the head of PR for the Udaku family came with its challenges. But staying on top of public perception and answering to elders paled in comparison to your most formidable challenge, dealing with the princess.

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cussing, like BREIF mentions of sexual elements. that’s it I think.

Word count: 4,658

Masterlist.  Taglist.  Part 1.

Suggested listening: Bitches Broken Hearts - Billie Ellish 

“You can pretend you don't miss me (me) You can pretend you don't care All you wanna do is kiss me (me) Oh, what a shame I'm not there.”

“And again! One, two, three, four dip! One, two, three, four, turn!”

The feeling of Shuri’s foot coming down on yours had you pulling your hand from hers, a loud “Ow!” spewing from your lips. 

“I wouldn’t have stepped on your foot if you had it in the right place.” Shuri looked down at you smugly as you rubbed your foot. 

“Well maybe if you hadn’t skipped the first step, I wouldn’t be confused as to where we were at.” You glared up at her, wanting nothing more than to shoot up from your position on the floor and wipe that smug look off her face.

“Are you two really not over your issues, seriously? Mama gave you both a week, I thought you would have settled this by now.” T’Challa’s voice, while slightly annoying at this exact moment, was still right. 

Queen Ramonda had given both you and Shuri a week to come to some sort of acceptance of the deal you both agreed to. Banning Shuri from entering her lab and you from your office, she hoped the time away from work would give you both some clarity about the situation, leading to you putting your childish bickering to the side and finally working together again.

While this all sounded good on paper, the time away from your safe spaces seemed to leave the two of you more irritable than before. Shuri’s attitude is on full display and your patience running dangerously low. Luckily, once she noticed this the Queen called in the one favor she had left, hoping maybe she could talk sense into the two of you before it was too late. But until she showed up under the Queen’s strict orders T’Challa was to teach you and Shuri the waltz. 

“The only issue I have is that she cannot follow directions! I am supposed to be leading her in this dance yet every move she makes is contradictory to the one I have made. I step left, and she goes right. I take two steps forward, and she takes two backward. How am I to lead someone as stubborn as Y/N?” Shuri folded her arms over her chest, no longer giving you the satisfaction of looking in your direction once she finished her array of insults. Classy. 

You rose from where you had been sitting checking your foot. Where Shuri may have beaten you in height, you had her in pure intimidation. Shuri was all bark and no bite and the minute you really mouthed off back to her, she faltered. “Maybe if I had a good leader, someone who I trust to lead, maybe then I’d have no problem following them. But when she can’t even remember the order of simple steps to a waltz, how am I supposed to want to follow her mkhuluwe? (brother)” 

T’Challa tried to answer and de-escalate the situation but his sister's fiery attitude stopped him. 

“I find your continual suggesting that I am an unfit leader to be disrespectful Y/N.” Shuri took a step closer to you, looking down at you through the curls that had fallen into her face. “Some would even say what you’re suggesting is treason. Are you committing treason against the Princess?” The tone in her voice was cocky, like a cat playing with her food. What you said was not treason, you knew it, she knew it, T’Challa knew it, and everyone else in the room knew it. But still, she chose to pull rank on you, a subtle reminder that you two were not acting off of an even playing field. Another low blow. 

“You know I almost wish what I said was treason worthy Shuri, I’d gladly take whatever punishment that brings over having to continue this charade with you.” You chuckled softly. “Fifty years of solitary confinement, I think I’ll take my chances.” 

The young Princess’s fists balled and the next smart remark was just about to leave her lips when another voice cut in. One that wasn’t yours, hers, or T’Challa’s. 

“Bast! You both still fight like children!” You and Shuri both whipped around to see Nakia leaning up against the ballroom wall behind you. The sight of her had your feet moving faster than your brain could process, leading you right into Nakia’s arms. She let out a groan when your body connected with hers, squeezing you tightly. “Well hello to you too, usisi omncinci (little sister).” 

“I didn’t know you’d be here so early.” You still hadn’t removed yourself from Nakia’s body as you spoke. 

“Well, clearly she is,” Shuri’s slick remark rang out before Nakia could speak. “Now move, you’re not the only one who has missed her.” 

With reluctance, you peeled your body off of Nakia’s to allow Shuri to hug her. As you watched the two embrace you were brought back to your childhood, Nakia’s family being the other one that you lived with when you weren't in the palace. She had taught you everything you knew about being an adult and your eagerness at her return was no different now than it was when you were younger. 

When Shuri finally finished she stepped back next to you, leaving T’Challa as the only one who hadn’t greeted Nakia yet. 

“Hi.” He said sheepishly as he stepped up into his girlfriend's space. Nakia smiled fondly at him, holding her hands out for T’Challa to take. 

“Hi.”

“You did not tell me you were coming back.” T’Challa’s hands rubbed idly at Nakia’s knuckles, memorizing the feeling of her skin under his. These moments between the two of them were rare, Nakia busy with her war dog duties and T’Challa with his kingly responsibilities. 

“Mm, I wasn’t supposed to be back this early but, Queen Mother called.” Nakia took her hand and cupped T’Challa’s cheek, rubbing gently on his soft skin before placing a sweet kiss on his lips. “And, I missed you mtuwam (my person).”  

The sight of the two lovers made you smile and that same smile stayed on your face as you backed away to give them some privacy. Of course however when in the presence of the Princess such a smile can only last for so long. The sight of her staring at you in disgust had you rolling your eyes at her. “What is your problem? Is your heart so cold that you can’t appreciate a couple in love?” 

Shuri let out a dry laugh. “No, I adore my brother and Nakia, she makes him significantly less lame. It is your reaction that I don’t believe.” 

“What? I am a lover of love. A certified lover girl like Drake said. Especially true love like that.” 

“Mhm if that’s what you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, but that’s not what I have heard.” Shuri dismissed herself from the ballroom, seeing no need to continue the dance lesson now that T’Challa was occupied.

You followed hot on her trail, what the hell had she “heard” about you that could make her of the opinion that you weren't a lover of love. It was blasphemy honestly, defamation of character. 

“Shuri!” You grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop in her tracks. She tried to pull out of your grasp, expecting to overpower you easily. What she didn’t account for though was your newfound muscle from training with Ayo, rendering her attempts unsuccessful. 

“Let me go.” She still hadn’t turned to face you, to you this seemed like disrespect, another time Shuri couldn’t even give you the decency to look at you. But internally, Shuri’s heart was beating a mile a minute. She hadn’t even realized how much she missed the feeling of you touching her skin. Holding hands to dance was one thing but the way you held tightly onto her now felt like a security blanket, holding her down to earth. 

“What are you talking about? What did you hear?” 

Shuri tried to pull her arm again to no avail, taking a deep breath, she turned and faced you. “When I tell you, you’ll remove your grabby hands from my wrist, yes?” 

You roll your eyes at her use of the word grabby, this was a tactic you two would use often as kids and she never had a problem with it then. “Yes, if you tell me what you’re talking about, I’ll let you go.” 

The Princess looked you up and down as she debated how to spill this information. “All I’m saying is I find it hard to believe that you are a lover girl when you so clearly have shown that you’re the opposite.” 

That got you to loosen your hold on Shuri’s wrist just enough for her to pull away, her heart finally steadying. But to your surprise, she didn’t leave, rather staying and standing in front of you almost waiting for your questions. 

“Explain what you’re talking about right now!” You demanded, your voice cracking slightly under your urgency.

“Adah.” That name was all Shuri gave you as you two stood staring at each other. “Oh don’t play dumb now, you two have been doing this thing since we were teenagers.” 

You gritted your teeth, for a second time today, an Udaku child was right about something. Adah was a year younger than you and Shuri, her grandparents sat on the council so she was frequently in the palace growing up. Shuri never cared too much for Adah, saying that she was too whiny and took up too much of your time. This dislike only increased when you and Adah started casually dating as teenagers. 

While you put the emphasis on casualness, Adah could never do the same; always trying to cling to your side and attach herself to your and Shuri’s plans. This only led to the Princess feeling more confident in her ability to voice her disdain for the young girl, consistently pointing out her shortcomings. When you finally did end things with Adah, she still seemed to pine after you, even going as far as to join the Dora Milaje to maintain proximity. 

“Adah is just a friend Shuri, the same as she was back then.” This earned you a laugh from the Princess. 

“Oh I’m sure she’s just a friend to you, but she doesn't see you the same way and she makes it abundantly clear.” Shuri looked you up and down. “And you don’t seem to have a problem with that, do you?” 

You chose to ignore the second part of Shuri’s statement, instead attacking the first part. “Why does it matter who I’m friends with Shuri?” 

She scoffed at you and attempted to walk away, done with this conversation. But you had grown tired of things always ending on her word, by her command. So you stepped in front of her, blocking her path with your body. When she stepped in another direction you followed suit, leaving her nowhere to go. “Why does it matter who I’m friends with?” 

“Get out of my way.”

“Answer my question.” 

The Princess was left with a decision, attempt to worm her way around you, success rate: twenty-five percent, or answer your question. Reluctantly she chose the ladder. 

“I do not care who you’re friends with Y/N. Truly, I don’t.” She used the closeness of your bodies that you had created to her advantage, leaning over you. “But Adah, she’s not just a friend, is she? Because I remember what it was like to be your friend and I don’t recall it involving sneaking out of your bedroom at three AM every other night.” 

Fuck. 

Your eyes widened at her words and your breath caught in your chest. How did she know about that? Those were isolated incidents. The few times when you had permitted Adah into your bedroom late at night it was just long enough to make you feel something again, before swiftly kicking her out. 

“Oh don’t get quiet on me now Y/N, where's all that energy you just had?” Shuri teased you, cocking her head to the side with a chuckle.

Two options played out in your head at that moment. The first was to stick to what you knew worked with Shuri, logic, and reason. Walk away from the conversation and wait until you were both cooler-headed. The second option was to really give it to Shuri, and remind her why your attitude was just as feared as hers, with the hopes that she’d step off afterward. Two shit options but beggars can’t be choosers. 

“You know what Shuri, first off fuck you. We’re not friends, right? So, who I decide to spend my time with is none of your business.” Your words had Shuri straightening up, no longer towering over you. 

“Second, fuck you again. You ended this, you didn’t wanna be my friend anymore, so yeah maybe I decided to be friends with Adah again. But guess who no longer gets an opinion on it? You.” You had effectively backed the Princess into a wall, her having nowhere to go but to press her back up against it and wait for you to finish. 

“Third and finally fuck you. Fuck your bullshit ass entitled attitude that pushes everyone away that tries to help you. Fuck your inability to not be an asshole for once in your life. Fuck you for not even being able to be a decent non-friend to me Shuri. I mean shit, we didn’t have to be best friends but you don’t have to be such a dick.” 

By the time you finished speaking, you realized you had said way more than you’d originally intended to. Letting some of the anger that you’d held onto from your adolescence spew out on the princess now. You two stared at each other for a moment, not sure what to say after your honest words.

Shuri tried to speak but you stopped her with a raise of your hand. There was nothing left to say here. Backing away from the Princess you ignored her calls and made your way away from her as quickly as you could. 

Once you were clear out of sight Shuri sunk down to the floor, burying her head in her knees. How did she keep doing this? Insulting and pushing you away when all she wanted to do was recreate the relationship you guys used to have. But how could she when clearly she had hurt you so badly? 

Two shadows appeared over Shuri and she looked up to see Nakia and T’Challa, locked arm and arm, staring down at her. The last thing she wanted right now was some lecture from her brother. “What do you want?” 

“We heard everything.” T’Challa rocked on his heels slightly, his nervousness apparent. He wasn’t sure how to go about a situation like this. Being king, that was easy. But being an ubhuti omdalana? (older brother) This was much harder. 

“Okay…” Shuri buried her head back into her knees, her braids shielding her face from view.  

The King looked to Nakia, hoping his girlfriend might have something to say here to help the situation. Instead, the war dog just smiled and squeezed T’Challa’s arm. “I am going to check on Y/N.” She whispered to him quietly. “You got this.” 

T’Challa held tightly to Nakia as she tried to pull away, shooting her a “Do not leave me here.” look, which only made Nakia smile. After a few tugs, she finally got her arm out of T’Challa’s hold and she bent down to speak to Shuri. “Sisi (sister), try to at least listen to what he says hmm?” She rubbed the princess’s shoulder gently, satisfied that she could go when Shuri gave her a small nod. 

When Nakia left T’Challa sat down next to his sister, pulling his knees to his chest to mimic her. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No.”

“Okay…” The siblings sat in silence for a little bit, T’Challa unsure of what to say. He tried to think what his Baba would do if he were still here or what kind words his mother would offer but he drew blanks. Just as he went to speak Shuri’s head popped up. 

“It is like she wants me to hate her or something.”

“Ingaba uthetha ukuthini? (What do you mean?)” T’Challa turned to look at his little sister confused by her words. 

“Y/N, it’s like she wants me to hate her. Everything she does I’m convinced she only does it to infuriate me.” T’Challa recognized the tone of his sister's voice, it was the same one that developed when she had solved a math problem or fixed a mechanical issue by herself. A tone of finality. 

“And what has she done thus far to make you hate her?” Now that he understood where Shuri’s problem lay, her brother felt much more confident helping her work through it. 

Shuri looked up at her brother as if he was crazy. “What do you mean what has she done to make me hate her? You heard the whole argument right?” 

T’Challa nodded. 

“Then you have heard just the most recent thing she’s done to infuriate me, becoming friends with Adah.” 

“And why can she not be friends with Adah?” T’Challa posed the question simply, raising his eyebrows at the Princess. 

“Because she knows I dislike Adah, she could have chosen any girl in the palace to be friends with and yet she chooses the one she knows I do not like? What kind of a friend does that?” Shuri let out a puff of air as she spoke about your behavior, but she didn’t stop there. 

“I mean really mkhuluwe (brother), do your friends treat you like that?” 

“Shuri,” T’Challa tried to stop his sister from continuing. 

“One moment, I am just saying who gave her the right to be so annoying! Friends are not supposed to be annoying-” 

“Shuri,” T’Challa tried again to interject but was shut down. 

“You came to listen to me talk, yet you keep cutting me off. Like I was saying friends are not supposed to be annoying, petulant, life-sucking-”

T’Challa couldn’t stand it any longer and finally, he fully interrupted her. “Shuri! For Bast's sake listen to me for a moment.” 

Shuri cocked her head back in disbelief, cutting her eyes at him in the process. “Did you just yell at me?” 

The King swallowed, “Yes.” 

Shuri looked him up and down before nodding, impressed at his ability to finally stand up to her. “Go on.” 

“All of this,” He gestured around her body. “Is because you’re upset with Y/N, yes?” 

Shuri faltered for a second, “Not just because of Y/N-”

“Your heart rate increases when you are lying, try again.” 

The Princess gasped, shoving her older brother. “I told you about using your black panther powers on me, it’s weird!” 

T’Challa only laughed. “But I am right, yes? All of this is because you’re mad that Y/N has made friends with someone you do not like.” 

“Yes.” Shuri’s response was quick, almost as if she didn’t wanna agree to what T’Challa had said. 

“But sisi, were you not the one to end the friendship with Y/N in the first place? How can you be mad at the way she has chosen to move on?” T’Challa’s words struck a chord with his sister. “Even if she did deliberately choose Adah to upset you, which we both know our Y/N, and I do not think that is something she would do. Why do you get to treat her poorly because of it?” 

Shuri let out a groan and turned away from her brother, but T’Challa continued. 

“What it sounds like to me, little sister is that you are jealous that Y/N has moved on and has found someone else to spend her time with.”

Shuri sat there processing her brother's words. Jealous? She wasn’t jealous… Right? 

On the other side of the palace, Nakia had finally located you. 

“How did I know I would find you here?” The older woman looked up at you in the trees. Nakia guessed that this tree, the same one you would climb up as a child, is where you would be.

“Not too much has changed hmm.” You offered. 

“Oh but so much has.” Nakia mused with a smile as she started her ascent into the trees. 

“Be careful, your body is not as young as it used to be.” You warned her with a laugh, earning a gentle shove from her once she finally got herself situated. 

“Are you calling me old sisi (sister)?” 

“I am not calling you young.” Your laughter only increased at her shocked expression. 

“I leave for a few months and you start insulting your elders? You really are just like Shuri.” Nakia meant the comment to be funny, and a few years prior it would have been. But now the mention of the princess made the smile slowly fade from your face. 

This of course did not go unnoticed by Nakia, she brushed your shoulder with hers gently. “Talk to me about her.” 

You shook your head, “Nakia, there's nothing to say about her that I haven't already said. You heard it all.” 

“Then tell it to me again. Explain to me how two girls who I watched grow up like sisters, now cannot spend a minute together without fighting.” Nakia’s brown eyes bore into your own. She always had a way about her, this energy that encouraged you to spill what had been weighing on you. And especially up here, high above the palace looking out onto the rest of the Golden City, you felt the urge to open up for once. 

“I don’t know what I did to make her so upset with me.” The words came out of your mouth quietly. “It was like one minute she was my best friend and now she can hardly stand the sight of me. Everything I do is somehow wrong in her eyes.”

“You know that’s not how she really feels Y/N.” Nakia tried to reason with you. 

“As much as you and Mama keep saying that Nakia, I think you’re wrong.” You finally pulled your eyes away from her. “She is all upset that I’ve chosen to spend time with someone else but she was the one who decided she didn’t want to spend any time with me.” 

Nakia tucked a few stray curls behind your ear. “Do you want to know what I think sisi?” 

You made a sound of inquiry, encouraging Nakia to continue. 

“I think she regrets her decision.” 

You whipped your head to face Nakia. “Intoni (What)?” 

“I am being serious, I think Shuri regrets her decision about ending the friendship,” Nakia spoke matter of factly as if she had weighed out all the options in front of her and settled on that one. 

“Yeah, and what about her behavior is saying ‘I want Y/N back as a friend.’ to you?” The question came out more comical than you intended but you couldn’t help it, the idea Nakia was pushing was laughable. 

“You and I both know Shuri, so you and I both know the last thing she can do is admit when she’s wrong. Think back to when we were kids and she didn’t want to admit that it was her miscalculations that made the hair dye ‘semi permanent’ not ‘washable’ like she insisted it was.” The memory Nakia brought up had you laughing. 

You and Shuri couldn’t have been but thirteen when she insisted that her new project was a hundred percent safe and a hundred percent NOT permanent. That of course led to you both having matching bright purple streaks in your hair for two months. 

Seeing your smile again brought Nakia some peace, she hadn’t lost you to your mind's overthinking yet. “Shuri is just hard-headed. She does not know how to say she wants you back in her life, so she doubles down on her stance.” 

You pondered Nakia’s words, it was true that Shuri did seem to double down on her dislike of you in the past three weeks. Almost as if being in increased proximity to you was making her miss you and lash out in response. 

“Promise me something?” Nakia wrapped her arm around your shoulder bringing you into her. 

“I can’t promise something if I do not know what it is Nakia. What if you wanted me to promise that I’ll jump from this spot right now? That’s not a promise I would make.” You were only rambling to annoy Nakia at this point and she knew it. She brought her other hand to flick your forehead. 

“Hush. Just promise me that you won’t shut Shuri out completely?” The older woman looked down at you awaiting your answer. “I know this is hard for you, having to be with her constantly when she isn’t the Shuri we know. But, there will come a time when she is again and I want you two to be able to rebuild when that comes.” 

You inhaled deeply debating if this was something you could promise to. 

“I’m not asking for you to lay down and let her insult you, Shuri needs someone to keep her in check too.” That got a chuckle out of you. The Princess needed more than just someone to keep her in check, she needed a full attitude adjustment. “But I am just saying, I think the more time you two spend together the more she’ll come back around.” There was a glint in Nakia’s eyes when she spoke that you didn’t recognize. 

“Okay.” You agreed quietly. 

“Okay?” Nakia squeezed you tight. “I will take an okay, I was not even sure if you were going to let me get this far!” 

The two of you both laughed in unison, knowing that it was a rare occasion when you actually took someone's advice. Your laughter was interrupted by the chirp of Nakia’s kimoyo beads alerting her that she had an incoming call. 

“Oh it's Challa, let us see what he wants.” The call went through and a holographic picture of the prince popped out of the beads. “Molo (Hello), sthandwa sami (my love). Everything is well I assume?” 

T’Challa grinned back at Nakia. “Ewe, just like you said it would.” The two just gazed at each other through the phone for a moment before the King cleared his throat. “I was um calling to see if you’d be joining us for dinner tonight?” 

“Of course, I would not miss it for the world.” Nakia’s reply came quick and you could have sworn T’Challa’s smile doubled in size. 

The soft sound of Shuri’s voice interrupted the moment. “Is Y/N with you?” 

Nakia hesitated a moment, “Yes, she is.” 

“Is she uh- coming with us to dinner?” Shuri herself seemed unsure if she actually wanted to ask the question. Peeking out from behind her brother's shoulder, showing that they were both still sitting on the floor. 

Nakia looked over at you, trying to judge your body language. When she didn’t sense anything that seemed like you were against the idea she finally spoke. “Ewe, she will be joining us for dinner.” 

Shuri sat up from her slouched position, her tone sounding more joyus. “Really? So it will be me, you, T’Challa, Mother, and Y/N. Good.” When she finished speaking she felt the eyes of T’Challa and Nakia on her, now both bearing sickeningly wide smiles. Why were they looking at her like that? As if her response was something they could have predicted. It made the princess check her attitude, returning back to her unbothered demeanor. “It is good Y/N will be joining us, for work and everything.”

“Mhm, I think so too.” T’Challa followed up his sister, alleviating some of the attention from her to himself. “Just like old times.”

Taglist:  @shuriszn @sokkasbae25 @verachii @cuddl3s4shur1 @takeyaki @jinnie10101 @letitias-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @beautybyfire @6-noir @mocha-aya @yvxmpire @mysticalmarss @ziayamikaelson @youralphawolf72 @n7cje @inmyheadimobsessed @shurisjournal @shurisbigtoe @saintwrld @pinkwright @chatitajens @playhousedistee @motheroffae @injeolmiee @tchhairbandhere @._mrqs @msudaku @lppriceisright @bratydoll @blackqueengold @iheartsolo @cafehyunji @abenomeiiii @naomis-daydream @ilroachsworld @locoforshuri

[runnning-outof-time]

An Anchor to the Past | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Just when (Y/N) and Tommy think they're in a comfortable place, a person from his past comes back and stirs everything up.

Warnings: smoking, drinking, language

Word Count: 3220

A/N: only a matter of time until I wrote my take on that scene in season 2. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"And I thought it took long for me to get ready," (Y/N) commented from where she was sitting on the bed, picking at the material of her dress. Tommy only grunted in response, paying close attention to what he was doing as he dragged the straight razor along his cheek. "You'd better not tell the boys that it was me who made us late this time," she then added, a grin on her face as his eyes met hers through the mirror he was looking into.

"Always have to look good for race day," Tommy stated once he was finished shaving. He sat the razor down on the dresser before he washed the extra shaving cream off of his face and dried it with a towel.

(Y/N) stood from the bed as he grabbed the gun holster that was draped over the chair and pulled it on his shoulders. "I think you look good everyday," she told him, a smile on her face as she stopped in front of him and reached out to begin buttoning up his waistcoat, "but I may be biased."

"Mmm, you may be," Tommy grinned at her words, reaching over to grab the suit jacket he'd be wearing before he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "You ready?" he asked her as he pulled away and went about shrugging the jacket on over his shoulders.

"Yes," (Y/N) nodded, grabbing his pocket watch from the dresser so that he could put it on and situate it in its special pocket. She gave him another kiss once she deemed him ready and he grinned before he began walking to the door of their bedroom with her following close behind him.

(Y/N) would have laughed had you told her that she'd be in a serious relationship with none other than Tommy Shelby three months ago. They met when she and her father arrived at Charlie's yard with the horse Tommy had won at an auction. Her father was in charge of transport at events like this one and (Y/N) liked to tag along when he went on his trips. She never thought she'd meet the person that she'd come to call hers. But the blue-eyed gangster managed to work his way in. And after proving to her that he'd still choose her over someone as well off as May Carleton — who also happened to be bidding for his attention, she knew she'd found something good.

Now she was living in Small Heath with him and helping out in the family business any way that she could. Most of the time she helped in the shop, lending her expertise with numbers to help with the books and make sure they were in order. Days like today were her favorite though. Today was the start of the Cheltenham Derby.

(Y/N) smiled as Tommy helped her into the car before he walked around the front to get into the driver's seat. He wasted no time in starting the car and setting off on their way to the event. Somewhere down the road, (Y/N) scooted to the middle of the seat and draped her arm around Tommy's neck. He only smiled at her as he knew what she'd do next. In a matter of seconds, her head was resting against his shoulder and her eyes were shut.

When her eyes opened again, the car had been parked in the expansive lot at the derby grounds. Tommy helped her out of the car and then rested his hand against the small of her back as he led her into the event.

"There they are!" Arthur called with his arms extended as he caught sight of the two approaching him, "the lovely couple," he commented with a grin as Tommy and (Y/N) stopped in front of him.

"Are the boys ready?" Tommy asked, ignoring his brother's statement and focusing on business.

"Yes they are, Tom. Already know what they're to do and how they're to do it," Arthur nodded his head confidently, a hint of a proud smile on his face as Tommy clapped his back in response.

"Good. Good," he nodded his head before looking down the concourse, "we've gotta go now...we're needed inside."

"Yeah...go on and bump elbows with all the toffs. John boy and I'll be out here making sure the work gets done," Arthur said with a grin before he bid farewell to his brother and (Y/N).

Tommy then started to lead (Y/N) in the direction of the banquet hall where all of the upper echelon passed the time before the races started. "I've got business to discuss with a man named Rollins. I shouldn't be long. Then we can have a dance and do whatever you'd like until the races begin," Tommy laid out their plans as the man standing at the door allowed them into the room. (Y/N) nodded her head and walked by his side as he moved deeper into the room.

They weren't able to find the man named Rollins however, because the voice of a woman stopped the pair in their tracks with only one word: "Tommy?"

They both did a 180 degree turn to see a blonde-haired woman standing arm in arm with a man. (Y/N) hadn't met them before, but by the look on Tommy's face, he most certainly had.

"I didn't think I'd see you here of all places, Tommy," the woman continued, a considerable amount of shock in her eyes as a slight smile graced her lips.

Tommy pulled his stare away from the woman he thought he'd never see again and dropped it to the ground as he cleared his throat. "Same goes for you, Grace," he agreed with her as he looked up once more.

"This is my husband, Clive," she then introduced the man standing at her side. The man nodded and extended his hand, which Tommy shook.

"This is my partner, (Y/N)," Tommy then introduced the woman next to him.

"Partner as in your..."

"We're together," (Y/N) cut her off before the other woman could even finish her sentence. She was shocked by the fact that that question even needed to be asked.

"Oh..." Grace trailed off, surprise taking over her features. Silence fell between the four of them for a few moments before she broke it: "do you remember when we were here last time, Tommy?" she questioned him as her eyes met his once more.

"I do," Tommy nodded his head, set on keeping his statements short.

"We danced...you called me a ‘lady’..." she trailed off as she reminisced on the past, "we should share a dance, for old times sake," she finished off with a suggestion.

Her words made (Y/N)'s heart leap to her throat. She dared to take a glance at Tommy then, who's jaw was now more prominent due to the fact that he was clenching his teeth. Anticipation hung in the air as he stared at the blonde-woman for a few, long moments before finally shaking his head. "I don't think that'd be good for either of us to do," he told her, and (Y/N) couldn't miss the slight look of disappointment that flashed on Grace's face. Tommy didn't seem to care though. "Now if you'll excuse us, I have business to go attend to," he then removed himself and (Y/N) from the conversation by re-fastening his hand to her waist so that he could lead them away from the other couple.

"Who was she, Tommy?" (Y/N) couldn't help but ask once they were out of earshot of the other couple. She knew that the woman's name was Grace, but she didn't understand why she seemed to be getting under her partner's skin.

"She's part of the past," Tommy gave a vague response, the tone of his voice telling her that he had no intentions of elaborating on his words. So she nodded and left his statement at that as they then stopped in front of the man they'd been looking for.

For someone who was supposedly 'part of the past', Grace was sure making an effort to become part of Tommy's present. It didn't take much for (Y/N) to realize that. There were now calls coming in from a fancy hotel in London; ones that Tommy almost always made sure that he was by himself before answering.

The one time when he wasn't, although he thought he was, (Y/N) walked into his office to hear him uttering the tail end of a sentence: "...you know I can't do that, Grace." Her heart sank at the name, as it was obvious who he was on the phone with, and she made quick work of placing the ledger she had onto his desk before she exited the room. Then one night Tommy came to her with the unthinkable: Grace now wanted to see him.

"You're kidding me, Tommy," (Y/N) said with disbelief in her voice as her eyes widened.

"She's leaving and she just wants to meet me," Tommy rephrased his previous statement, his eyes trained on the floor. He couldn't even look at (Y/N); couldn't bear to see the hurt in her eyes.

"Bullshit. She's just trying to get you there so that you two can go at it again...for old times sake," she snapped back at him, her final words coming out in a mocking manner as she repeated the phrase that the woman in question had used during their first interaction.

"That won't happen," Tommy said in a low voice as he shook his head, his eyes still focused elsewhere.

"Then look me in the eyes and say it," she challenged him, "look me in the eyes and I'll know if it's true."

"That won't happen," he repeated himself, his icy gaze locked onto her now. If she hadn't forced him to do it and wasn't expecting it, she would have shuddered under the intensity of his stare.

Their eyes stayed locked for a few moments before (Y/N) broke away with a sigh, "oh, Tommy," she breathed as she shook her head, her face dropping into her hands then.

"Nothing will happen between her and I," he told her, an urgency for her to accept his words present in his voice.

"That's easier said than followed through with," (Y/N) replied with another sigh.

"I will follow through with it," he promised her, stamping out the cigarette in the ashtray on the dresser before he walked over to where she was sitting on the bed. "I want to meet with her so that I can speak my mind; tell her to stop with what she's trying to do because it's no use," he then explained to her the reason behind his decision to accept her invitation.

"You can't just do it over the phone?" she implored.

"I can't," he shook his head, "intentions get mixed. I want to say it to her face."

(Y/N) sighed again, slowly coming to terms with the fact that he wasn't going to be changing his mind on this. "Where will it be happening?" she asked then, this question sounding different than her others. There was a tone of acceptance in her voice now.

"I've asked Ada to let me use her house in London," he told her, "once it's finished, I'll come back home to you."

"You'd better, Tommy Shelby," she insisted, her serious eyes locked onto his.

"I will," he promised, his hands falling on her shoulders as he stood in front of her sitting frame, "there's nothing she can say that would change my mind."

"I'll believe it when it happens," she stayed steadfast and didn't let his soft voice break down the walls she'd started building. She wanted to believe him, but she just couldn't be sure.

"C'mere," he mumbled then, his hands moving to the sides of her shoulders before squeezing them slightly, letting her know he wanted her to stand. She listened, rising to her feet so that she was only inches away from him. "I love you, eh?" he told her, his voice low and eyebrows raised as his gaze stayed hooked on her.

(Y/N) couldn't help but smile at his words. Her gaze dropped from his as she brought a hand up to rest against his. "I love you too, Tommy," she repeated the sentiment, her eyes matching his again briefly before he leaned in and kissed her lips.

His kiss took away some of the worry that had been building up inside of her, but she knew that it wouldn't be completely gone until this meeting was over and done with.

Tommy opened the door and allowed Grace to enter the house before he followed and shut the door. "Is this your house, Tommy?" Grace asked as she looked around the foyer in awe.

"One of them, yes," Tommy responded, clearing his throat before he motioned for her to follow him into the front sitting room. "Drink?" he asked as he made his way to the fireplace, where the decanters of alcohol were sitting.

"Yes. Please," she responded with a slight nod of her head as she sat down on the couch in the room. Tommy poured two glasses and handed one to her before moving to sit in the chair that was situated on the couch's right. "Thank you," she sent a smile in his direction, but he only nodded in response.

"Now why did you want to meet me?" he asked her, deciding to get right down to the matter of business as he sipped on his whiskey.

Grace smiled slightly as she looked at the fire. "I wanted to see you again, Tommy," she started off, looking over at him again with her smile still present. Two years ago, he would have melted at that smile, but now it didn't faze him.

"You've saw me," he pointed out, harking back to their initial meeting at the derby, "why the incessant pestering?" His brows were furrowed now as he pulled a cigarette out of its canister and struck a match to light it.

"Because I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since," she admitted before sending a look that could have been read as desperate in his direction, "have you felt the same?" she then asked, waiting intently for his response.

Tommy took a moment to process her words. "If this was three months ago..." he paused, taking a drag of the cigarette and exhaling the smoke slowly before he continued, "I would have told you that there wasn't a day I didn't think of you; that you were on my mind constantly. But now..." he paused again, flicking the ash to the floor as he exuded a breathy chuckle, "now things have changed." He didn't miss the shocked expression that flashed on her face as he finished his statement.

Still, she managed to continue the conversation, "what about my letters? Did you get them, Tommy?" she queried, a bit of hope returning to her features, "you never wrote back to me."

"I had nothing to say," he responded with a simple statement, the opposite of what she was hoping for. But then he continued, "you left, Grace. You moved to New York; started a new life. And you seem to be doing fine for yourself..." he paused for a moment to lean forward in his seat, his eyes locked on hers, "so why have you decided to come back here and try to ruin what I've done with mine, eh?"

His question hit her like a knife to the heart, and with it, the sliver of hope she was holding onto disappeared. Tommy stood from his seat and she followed suit, realizing that he was most likely leaving now. "I thought there still might have been a chance," she finally told him, her statement making him scoff as he finished off the last of his whiskey and dropped the cigarette butt into the now empty glass.

"That was a foolish thing for you to think," he commented with a slight shake of his head before he took a step to the archway of the room. She got the idea and also started walking. "It's a good thing you told your driver to wait, eh?" Tommy mused once the door was opened, his question coming out more like a statement because there was nothing Grace could say in response to it.

Grace moved to the backdoor of the vehicle but stopped before slipping into it. "Goodbye, Tommy," she parted with her final words, looking him in the eyes one last time.

"Goodbye, Grace," he nodded his head and with that, she slipped into the car and allowed for her driver to shut the door. He watched as her car drove away and out of sight. Then he made sure that the house was locked up before he made his way down the street so that he'd be able to get into his car and head back to Small Heath.

Tommy sat down at a table in the back room of the Garrison two days later. He’d now had enough time to think over his meeting with Grace and came to the conclusion of what he needed to do. So he reached into his pocket and fished out the pack of matches he always carried with him. Then he grabbed one of the several letters from the table and held it between his fingers, inspecting it closely one last time.

He now realized why he was keeping them; they were an anchor to the past...a memory of the good he once had. But what he had now was way better, and for that reason, he needed to get rid of them.

So he struck a match and held it to the bottom corner of the envelope. It caught quickly and flames began to travel up the paper, burning away the address of the woman who would now stay in his past.

(Y/N) entered the Garrison and looked around, seeing if she could find Tommy. Her eyes then settled on Harry, the barman, who was already pointing towards the back of the room. When she looked in that direction, she was able to see a person, who she immediately knew as Tommy, sitting by himself at a table. She quietly walked towards the room and then, once she was standing behind his sitting figure, draped her arms over his shoulders. Tommy glanced to the side to see who had joined him but got his answer when he inhaled the sweet smell of her perfume.

“What’re you doing, love?” she asked him in a whisper, her voice right next to his ear.

“I’m getting rid of the past,” he told her as he struck another match and set the next envelope alight.

(Y/N) didn’t respond to him. Instead she held onto his shoulders tighter as they both watched the letter burn into the ashtray. It was in this tight embrace that Tommy realized he had a new anchor now...one that wouldn’t betray him and leave his ship stranded at sea.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @easilyobessedbutflighty @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss

MASTERLIST

[specialagentlokitty]

BAU x reader - in the past

I have a question, would you be okay with doing a request where the unsub is an x of the reader's? - @xweirdo101x 💜

The case was going like any other case, trying to figure out who the unsub was before anything else bad happened.

You were reading the reports, trying to find anything that was going to link the victims, and Reid was staring at the photos on the board.

“Hey (Y/N) come here.”

Furrowing your brows a little, you got up and walked over and he moved your next to the board, flicking his eyes from you to the board then back to you.

“Oh my god…”

“What? What is it?”

You looked at the board in confusion and Reid quickly grabbed his phone, calling Garica to get the team back to the station as soon as possible.

You tried getting Reid to tell you what was going on but he wouldn’t.

He waited for everyone to get in.

“I think I’ve found the link. I was looking at the photos, they all look incredibly similar, then I put (Y/N) next to the photos.”

Everyone looked at you and you still stood there confused.

“I… I don’t get it, I don’t look like them?”

“You dye your hair right?” Rossi asked.

“Yeah? JJ or Emily helps me do it.” You said.

“What’s your natural hair colour?” Hotch asked.

“(H/C).”

You looked at the photos, and the more you looked the more you realised how they did look like just like you.

All of them had met a brutal tragic end, and each message started to make more sense.

“Oh my god…”

They weren’t just random words, you realised what they were spelling out.

“(Y/N) what is it?” Emily asked you.

Picking up the whiteboard pen, you quietly scribbled the words out.

“It’s not random words. It’s a message.”

“A message?” JJ asked.

You slowly nodded your head and rearranged them, and added a few more words before you stepped away to let them read it.

“I will never let you go. I will find you.” Reid read aloud.

You shuddered, even just writing it made you feel uncomfortable and made you feel incredibly sick.

“What’s going on?” Hotch asked.

You sighed and got them all to sit down, and you explained to them the situation behind you and you possessive ex.

You didn’t give them all the details, there was things that they didn’t need to know about your past, but you told them about you and the breakup

You told them how messy it had gotten, you got a restraining order against him, sending him on his way, how you had to dye your hair and move every year just to make sure he didn’t find you.

“It’s why I don’t have Facebook or anything, it’s why I never go on team nights out, or take photos with you. It’s nothing against you, it’s for my safety.”

“Right you’re not leaving this station, one of us will always be with you, Garica get everything you can about this ex now.”

“Yes sir.”

Garcia hung up and you looked at the team as they quickly dove into work.

“We need to keep you safe, we’re going to set up an interrogation room as a safe house, Derek will stay with you first.” Rossi said.

You nodded and followed Derek to the new safe house for you.

He decided to play games with you to pass the time until it was time to switch.

Reid decided to recite a book he knew you liked to try and help you stay calm, and reminded you it was going to be okay.

Emily sat there in silence with you, both of you watching a movie on her phone.

JJ tried getting you to talk about it but you wouldn’t budge and she decided not to push it any further.

Hotch told you stories about Jack and what his son had been up to, he understood how scary this could be, and he wanted to keep you as calm as possible.

Rossi decided he was going to teach you some Italian, he knew you wanted to learn a different language so he decided why not? If you wanted to learn, he wanted to help you relax a little bit.

You felt uneasy knowing that any moment he could come through those doors, but it felt wrong to sit there and do nothing.

This started with you, you felt like it had to finish with you. But you knew the team wouldn’t let you go, and maybe that was good thing, because who knows what would happen.

But it didn’t feel right.

It felt like years before they said it was over.

He was dead.

Hotch had shot him, he was going to shoot Emily, so Hotch didn’t hesitate to shoot your ex.

Not only for threatening a member of his team, but for everything that had happened with you.

“It’s over…” Hotch said softly.

“It’s over…?”

He nodded and you stood up before crashing into him to hug him, thanking him and the rest of the team.

They all joined the hug, telling you they’d do anything for you.

On the jet home you weren’t allowed to sit alone, you were forced to play games and talk and do anything to distract you.

When you got back to the office Garica was waiting and she pulled you away and into her office where she closed the door.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Garica hugged you tightly.

“I’m.. I’m okay.”

You hugged her back and sighed, rubbing your hand up and down her back.

“I want you to know I saw everything, the police reports, the court cases, everything.”

You quickly pulled away.

“Garcia promise me you didn’t…”

She quickly shook her head.

“No, no I didn’t I promise! I’m just… I’m so sorry you went through all of that…”

She started to tear up, and you did the same, and you hugged her tightly again.

“It’s in the past…”

“I know but still.. I’m so sorry…” she whispered.

She wasn’t going to tell the team, she knew you didn’t want them to know.

“If you ever want to talk about it we can! Okay? You can come or mine or… or.. I can come to yours and we can talk about it!”

You pulled away and sniffled a little, wiping a few tears from your eyes as you took a breath.

You didn’t want to talk about it, but after this case you had a feeling you couldn’t shove it down anymore.

You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t real because it was.

“I.. I’d like that.. I wanna talk about it..”

Garcia quickly grabbed her stuff and you two left without telling the rest of the team, just giving them a text saying you were going to hers.

Maybe you needed, maybe you needed to talk about it to finally start healing properly