#he’s a neglectful absent father instead! :D

[maple-tree-hills]

Percy Jackson AU where instead of Poseidon being absent in Percy’s life, he helps raise him. But Percy doesn’t know his dad is Poseidon. He thinks Peter Johnson is a marine biologist and a fisherman who is frequently on long business trips for his job. Maybe Sally and Poseidon are divorced, and she marries Smelly Gabe or maybe they’re still together, who knows.

Just, instead of Percy being in anger at the gods for neglecting their children he’s in disbelief that his very normal father is Poseidon. They go on fishing trips together all the time and he dresses like a tacky Hawaiian tourist. Not a god. He refuses to believe this despite Grover being a satyr, and Mr. Brunner being a centaur.

I’m not sure if Percy should know all of the gods or not. Maybe he knows Mr. D already as Cousin Dexter. Cousin Dexter has shown up a couple of times in his life. He’s a devil for the drink and a known alcoholic, so why is he at this weird camp playing cards with Grover and Mr. Brunner? And they start talking about the gods and demigods again. And Mr. D calls him ‘mortal.’ And Percy’s like yeah, no Cousin Dexter has had a bit too much to drink despite the fact that he can’t smell any alcohol on him, and he’s only been drinking Diet Coke. Percy switches subjects as to why Mr. D isn’t drinking any alcohol. Apparently, his father won’t let him drink alcohol anymore and is forcing him to work at this summer camp. Percy is happy to hear this because at least someone isn’t having Cousin Dexter’s shit anymore.

Then they switch gears back into the conversion about gods existing and he’s sure Grover, or Mr. Brunner, or Mr. D will say sike, but none of them do. They all seriously believe in the gods. Well Percy is stubborn and won’t be convinced this easily.

And then he finds out that Hades stole the master bolt and has his mother, and he’s like uncle Hector? Uncle Hector is a god of the underworld? And he has my mother and stole Zeus’s lightning bolt? No way. Uncle Hector lives in LA and works at a music producing studio. He is not the god of the underworld. He is not Hades, this is insane and Percy does not appreciate being punked. He’ll admit some supernatural stuff is real because a minatur killed his mom, but being a demigod no way.

And they keep telling Percy about the family drama and he’s still in disbelief. All he knows about uncle Zane is that his father is not on good terms with him. There’s no way uncle Zane who his father HATES, who works in the Empire State Building is Zeus. There’s just no way.

And then he finds out about the Big Three and forbidden children thing. And he goes ‘That can’t be true uncle Hector has two kids: cousin Bianca and cousin Nico.’ And he just accidentally spoils to everyone that Hades has not kept his end of the pact about fathering more mortal children.

And then they’re on the road going through quests fighting against Alecto again, Echidna, and Medusa and Percy still can’t believe the gods are real.

It isn’t until he gets to the underworld that he starts believing. There seated on a dark throne surrounded by skeletons is Uncle Hector? Uncle Hector is actually Hades? He’s freaking out he’s never seen his uncle this way before. He’s terrifying and keeps demanding this Helm of Darkness thing in exchange for his mother. Where’s Nico he wants to hang out with his cousin?

And maybe Percy sasses him because what the heck uncle Hector sending furies after your nephew and holding your sister-in-law hostage and accusing your nephew of theft is not cool. And things for the most part will proceed like they do in the book for the most part. I could see Hades when he’s pretending to be a human behaving similarly to Jay Duplass’s portrayal of him in the TV show. Just a comical uncle who is most certainly not lord of the underworld.

(I’ve only seen the TV and I’ve almost finished the first book so far, but I do know Hades has two kids named Bianca and Nico)

[carnivorousladybug]

A Character Study: Aegon II from House of the Dragon

3k+ words. Just a compilation of my thoughts concerning the character of Aegon Targaryen II. I'm not trying to debate or prove a point, I just wanted to pen down my views of him. Also, I did not mention Daeron because I wanted to focus on the TV show.

Beware, spoilers.

Aegon is a product of abandonment — by his father, mother, and his elder sister — and his personality holds all the signs of it. Viserys, for all his dreams of having a male heir, neglects the boy when he finally is born. The king instead showers all his affection on Rhaenyra, the only surviving child born out of the marriage with the true love his life, the late Queen Aemma.

Rhaenyra sees Aegon only as a rival and threat to her claim on the Iron Throne. In the book, the only reason she even agreed to marry Laenor Velaryon after the infamous Daemon scandal was because Viserys threatened to replace Aegon as his heir if she didn’t comply. Aegon's her competitor and nothing more. Rhaenyra makes it obvious when she makes a point to address him only as half-brother (she addresses all of Alicent’s children as half-siblings, for that matter).

As for Alicent, Otto Hightower was removed as Hand of the King shortly after Aegon’s birth — an event that Alicent blames Rhaenyra for. She’s now left in a court full of schemers; she has zero allies save for Ser Criston Cole and Larys Strong (the latter who she treats with trepidation because, let’s face it, he’s a creepy guy and his job as professional torturer doesn’t help). Her new position as Queen only isolates her further. To top it off, her husband blatantly favors her step-daughter over both her and her new baby boy, which only fuels the belief that Aegon’s life would be at risk should Rhaenyra succeed him.

Alicent is now feeling more alone than ever. I also think a part of her saw Aegon as the final event that ended her childhood once and for all. He represents a time of significant losses to her — loss of her maidenhood, loss of her father, loss of her bond with her childhood friend. She feels deeply betrayed by everyone she had been close to. By Rhaenyra, who lied to her about Daemon/Criston despite swearing on Aemma’s grave (which holds so much weight for Alicent because both her and Rhaenyra bonded over the deaths of their mothers). By Viserys, who married her when his heart still belonged to Aemma. By Otto, who had a hand in making her marriage with Viserys happen and then left her to raise her son — his grandson — all on her own. 

So Aegon had an absent father, an unfriendly older sister, and a mother who feels paranoid and isolated. Aegon may have only been a toddler but I don’t think he was clueless to the woes of his mother and tensions happening in court. Children always pick up on emotions.

It was the perfect recipe for creating the irresponsible young man he would grow up to be.

Now we’re going to be stepping into headcannon land, but bear with me. I’m imagining Aegon as a young boy in the throne room. He’s hiding behind Alicent’s skirts because I think young Aegon would’ve been a scared little kid. Growing up in court amidst all the animosity would have him both confused and anxious all the time. He’d blame himself for his father’s neglect and his mother’s worried eyes and frown lines. His older sister also hates him for apparently no reason too, at least according to Aegon. His mother whispers to him that the Iron Throne would be his one day, but soon he notices the cuts that his father gets from sitting on the damned chair. Cuts that always fester and that the maesters would eventually have to leech. He sees Viserys getting weaker and weaker each time he sits the throne.

That’s when Aegon decides that he doesn’t want the throne. He doesn’t want that fate.  I think Aegon is smarter than people give him credit for. He sees the Iron Throne for what it really is: a decoration and a cutting hazard. More importantly, he sees it as an extension of Viserys. The Iron Throne = the king = Viserys = the father who doesn’t care for him.

Well, fuck that, young Aegon thinks. I won’t care about you either. Fuck you and everything you stand for.

So he lets all his inhibitions run wild. I think it would start with small childhood acts of defiance — like boisterously interrupting important meetings around the Red Keep and playing rude pranks on lords and servants alike. Eventually he’d discover the secret passageways and he’d sneak off to Flea Bottom, pick fights with the locals just because he can, and get high at the Ale houses when he’s supposed to be studying.

What started as just a fun little drink to loosen up becomes his lifeline. Being sober opens up the path for analytical thought, and Aegon doesn’t want that, not with all the constant anxiety he feels. He wants to be far away from his reality, from his father, from his Targaryen heritage and everything it meant. 

So he drowns himself in cup after cup. One addiction leads to another, and pretty soon he finds pleasure and fighting rings added to his list of addictions too. This boy is an adrenaline junkie, and he chases high after high — be it from wine, from flesh, or from violence — just to keep his mind off the fact that he's a firstborn Targaryen prince. 

And if Alicent yells at him, what of it? All the slaps to his face only meant that she cares about him. Isn’t that the most important thing? Aegon thinks. The more debauched his activities became, the more she cared. (Aegon adopts the "Red Means I Love You" mentality).

I also think Aegon is jealous of Rhaenyra, sort of like how Aemond is jealous of him. Rhaenyra's irresponsibility is swept under the rug. Aegon, on the other hand, is treated as the family disappointment. No matter how many bastards she births, Viserys continues to dote upon her. No matter how many rumors circulate around King's Landing of her and her paramour, Harwin Strong, Viserys' love for Rhaenyra is unconditional. In other words, she easily receives what Aegon had always coveted.

As for his relationship with Jace and Luke — Aegon couldn’t care less that they were Rhaenyra’s bastards. Status and symbols mean nothing to him; he’s far happier in the taverns of Flea Bottom with the common people than he ever was with the stuffy nobles in the Red Keep. He has no quarrel with them, and they laugh along to his jokes and pranks. At least they know how to have fun, he thinks. Better Jace and Luke than shy, quiet Aemond who keeps to his studies (the fucking nerd) and weird Helaena who only talks about bugs.

Remember, Aegon feels awfully detached from his family. Aemond and Helaena definitely felt detached also; they too were neglected by Viserys. Each of them coped by withdrewing —  Aegon to his brothels and alehouses, Aemond to the library, and Helaena to her interest in insects.

But Rhaenyra’s side has never quite felt like “family” to him — Jace and Luke look nothing like him, while with Aemond and Helaena, Aegon sees his own silver hair and purple eyes staring right back at him, symbols of his Targaryen heritage. I think he truly did consider Jace and Luke as “friends”, or at the very least, playmates for a time. He teams up with them to bully Aemond, whom he could not feel more distant from, despite being closer in blood to Aemond than he with Jace and Luke.

Aemond's a twat, Aegon justifies. Helaena's a twat too. They both represent family and duty to him, especially Helaena, who is a constant reminder of the duties he must perform as prince and firstborn son. Aegon just wants to love and be loved, and he knows he can't give that to Helaena, nor she to him. "We don't have anything in common" is the excuse he uses for not wanting to marry her, if only to lie to himself that they have everything in common. They have the same last name, the same hair and eyes, the same blood of the dragon running through their veins. And they will be stuck in the same loveless marriage together.

So when Alicent scolds him (Rhaenyra’s sons won’t be your play things forever…We are family… out there, we protect our own), the full weight of what she’s saying doesn’t hit him, not immediately…

Until Lucerys takes out Aemond's eye.

Aegon’s not stupid — he knows how Viserys gives Rhaenyra and her children free passes for everything. But I don’t think he realized that it also meant the blacks would get away with maiming his brother, the king’s own son, too. The moment Viserys was more angry over the fact that his grandsons were called bastards than his son losing an eye was when Alicent’s words truly cemented into his mind. We are family. We protect our own.

(Jace and Luke never seemed sorry for their actions too. Were these the boys I sided with against my own brother? Aegon asks himself.) 

Aegon would be good at hiding it, but he’d feel immense guilt for not being there to protect his little brother. Viserys had proved to be undependable, so as the eldest son, it was now his job to protect his family.

He's relunctant, he admits. He can't connect with Aemond — his little brother was duty this, responsibility that, and frankly, it was annoying. He had never really understood Helaena (she's autistic coded). But Aegon is mad terrified of Viserys now. If his own father had threatened to cut out the tongue of anyone — noble or otherwise — who speaks a word against the blacks, and had refused to take justice for a Targaryen prince... then is anyone in his fraction truly safe?��

So Aegon stops bullying Aemond. Not that he had any cause left to bully Aemond with. The little boy had claimed the meanest, baddest dragon in the world and Aemond reminded everyone of this fact whenever he got the chance. But Aegon starts keeping his jesting to a minimum, and he decides to leave Aemond in peace. At least, for most of the time. Except for when he took it upon himself to teach Aemond "how to be a man" —  Aegon's version of sex education — something that Alicent would scorn if she ever found out but Aemond will eventually marry and someone needs to prepare him, Aegon thinks. Plus, it wouldn't hurt if my brother loosens up. He's all work and no play. 

(And when Aemond turns 13, Aegon takes him to a brothel on the Streets of Silk. Aegon thinks he's doing his little bro a favor. Aemond would never forgive him for it — but that's a story for another time.) 

Aegon also gives in and marries Helaena. Better me than Jacaerys, he thinks. If Helaena married into the blacks, Rhaenyra would always take Jace's side. The blacks didn't have a sense of justice and Aegon wouldn't subject his sister to that. I'm sure that deep down, he feels protective of her in a brotherly way, although he doesn't show it. He continues his debauchery despite knowing that it could harm her reputation but wine and women is where Aegon draws the line. I'll do what mother asks but I can't give up this.

(Aegon may think he would protect Helaena from the world but he fails to see that Helaena may need protection from him. Aemond sees this and steps up for the job.)

Aegon is also holding onto the hope that people would stop seeing him as heir if he acts unworthy enough. But in the attempt to distance himself from Viserys, Aegon turns out like his father in the process. He becomes an absent father to his children with Helaena. Good thing Uncle Aemond is there to help with the kids tho.

In spite of it all, things had started to fall into rhythm in the Red Keep for the Green kids. Aegon does his duty while still continuing his depravities, Helaena dedicates her time to her needlework and her babies, Aemond studies and trains with all his might to compensate for his lack of an eye. All is well, or as well as it could ever be. 

Until the matter of Driftmark's succession brings Rhaenyra’s clan back to the Red Keep.

While the petitions were being held, Aegon was indifferent to it all. To be clear, he didn't want Luke — the bastard who maimed his brother — to get Driftmark, but he wouldn't complain if Luke did, because it would only strengthen Rhaenyra's claim to the throne, thus making his own claim less valid. Aegon attends the ceremony and treats it with the morbid amusement of a man who had nothing more to lose. 

Then Daemon beheads Vaemond. That's when Aegon is reminded of who he is really dealing with. The blacks are no longer just Rhaenyra and her children — Prince Daemon, the notorious Rogue Prince, was now added to their list of foes. It was clear to everyone: the price for challenging Rhaenyra was immediate death. No trial, no mercy, no justice.

When Jace asks Helaena for a dance during dinner, Aegon’s protectiveness kicks in. He looks at Aemond, like, are you seeing this shit bro? 

This bastard thinks his family can get away with maiming my brother and he wants to dance with my wife as if nothing happened?

When the fight breaks out between Jace and Aemond, Aegon sees Luke rushing to Jace's side before stepping in to stop the boy from reaching Aemond. We protect our own.

I think that afterwards, Aegon was hit with the overwhelming reality that he had, more or less, managed to ignore for the past few years. It was easier to ignore the danger he was in with Rhaenyra gone. But now that she was back... and after witnessing Daemon's recklessness in the throne room... 

He sees his own head in the place of Vaemond’s. This could be my future, he thinks. Aegon wants to save himself before it was too late. 

To Aegon, running away probably seemed like a win-win situation. Rhaenyra gets the crown she wants, and Aegon gets his freedom. It’s better for everyone this way, he reasons.

“I will find a ship and sail away, never to be found,” he pleads Aemond, grasping his brother’s face with both hands. He’s desperate, and he’s hoping that his brother would understand. It’s not until Ser Crispy Cream arrives that Aegon ultimately gives in and abandons his plans.

“The queen awaits,” the knight says.

In the book, Criston Cole and Aegon spend time exchanging a few more words.

“What kind of a brother steals his sister’s birthright?” Aegon protests.

It’s not until Ser Criston explains to him that the lives of his mother, brother, wife, and children will be in danger that Aegon finally relents. The book made Aegon’s motivations behind his acceptance of his fate much clearer than the show, but I thought the series incorporated a cleverer, show-not-tell way to explain Aegon’s compliance. 

Think of it like this: Aegon’s holding on to the face of the brother whom he failed to protect seven years ago. Then his mother’s sworn protector — the knight who had been more attentive to him than his own father had, the man who watched him grow up — approaches him, putting an arm around his shoulder, saying “the queen awaits”.

At the mention of his mother, Aegon comes to his senses again. We are family, we protect our own. 

If Aegon fled, he would be leaving his family to the wrath of Daemon and Rhaenyra. The only way he can ensure their protection is to stay and become king. It’s the Targaryen Hunger Games. Neither will live while the other survives.

Aegon decides that he would not make the mistake that he made seven years ago at Driftmark. He lets go of his brother and follows Ser Criston.

In stories, heroes separate themselves from villains by being the ones who act out of love instead of ambition. Aegon’s morals are questionable, and he certainly is no saint, but his last act in HOTD season one — the one that would change the course of history — was done out of love.

Why else would he ask “Do you love me?” while Alicent is lecturing him in the carriage on the way to his coronation. He’s saying Look at me mother. I don’t care about the politics, I am doing this just because I love you and I need to know, I’m desperate to know, if you love me too.

I can’t wait to see the route that the show writers would take his character in the later seasons. Aegon is an attention whore, and judging by how he commanded the crowd during the coronation scene, I’m excited to see him in his role as king. I think he’d absolutely have fun pulling rank. I’m the king now so I as might as well milk this position for all it’s worth.

I want to see Unhinged Aegon when Blood and Cheese happens. I want them to show Aegon letting out the most feral scream that even Aemond would stand frozen in shock. I want Aegon promising Helaena that he’s going to kill the ones who murdered their son and swearing that he’d do anything to protect them all from this day onward. (Fate heard him say that they don’t have anything in common and decided to take it up as a challenge.) 

I want them to show Aegon and Helaena coping with the death of their son in their own ways — I want them to show Aegon killing every rat-catcher and Helaena locking herself in her own chamber. I want Aegon to have such a rage and thirst for revenge that Aemond seems almost harmless in comparison. Blood and Cheese awakens a monster in Aegon. Aemond’s mind unravels due to his guilt (Jaehaerys wouldn't be dead if he hadn't killed Luke) and Helaena drowns in her grief. Alicent can do nothing but watch as her daughter becomes a shell of a person and her sons become deranged.

[dragonairice]

LOWKEY BEEN INSPIRED BY @not-sure-what-im-feeling s AWESOME OCS AND LORE (Go check them out)

And it inspired me to talk about MY ocs :D

I mention in passing that I am in fact writing a novel, but I try to avoid saying too much to prevent spoilers buuuuut I think I can keep it vague enough while still rambling <3

The novel (technically a novella) is called 'The Shadow Walker' and here's a draft of a blurb:

With no friends, an absent mom, an abusive dad, and a shadow that inexplicably went missing; Nicholas Walker is convinced his life couldn’t possibly get any worse. But everything changes when he meets something (or someone) who may or may not want him dead.

(Not the best but again it;s a draft)

ANYWAY THIS IS MY BOY NICHOLAS

He's 12 years old and a selective mute and my scrungliest little blorbo who experiences the horrors™. He doesn't have any friends, is neglected by his parents, and all in all has a bad time before the book starts :(

The only source of healthy food in the house (he borrows money from his dad and goes to the store alone) but is severely malnourished from eating nothing more than reheated takeout his dad left in the fridge. Nick doesn't talk verbally unless it's to his dad (out of necessity) and otherwise converses in ASL (which I'm learning for this book <3). Loves pretty buildings and stargazing, has a dream of visiting things like Notre Dame and the colloseum some day and is fascinated by architecture. I just realised that this kid would adore Minecraft but anyway after things get better for him he's given Lego models of like the eiffel tower and he loves them :)

Gonna stop before I spend the entire post talking about my boy and move onto

HIS MOMM

You know that thing that's like, "Not a bad person, just a bad parent"? Yeah. That's her. She ran away from her abusive boyfriend and left Nick behind out of fear, since she didn't know if she could survive by herself, much less with a child in tow. She ends up leaving with her best friend and they travel around the world a lot for their job. They're a musician who plays back up for bands in different places and Rachel ends up learning to play some stuff too after watching them for so long. The two end up dating at some point and they've been together ever since. Rachel still sends Nicholas a postcard every time she travels to a new place, but she doesn't have the courage to actually see him in person yet. Also fun fact. She's descended from a woman who was killed for being a 'witch' during the salem trials. This is relevant to the story :3

Do I have to talk about his dad??? Ughhhhh fine

This is Gregory Walker. I hate him. bye.

Not but fr, he's a terrible father. Works at a convenience store and his co-workers fear him. Lives off of take-out and instant ramen, never checks on his son. Spends all his money gambling and buying alchohol. Literally would not notice if he missed an entire month of his life (*cough* foreshadowing *cough*)

ANYWAY ONTO TWO OF MY FAVOURITES

LEXI AND CHELSEAAA

Lexi is a single mom who grew up kinda spoiled and is still figuring out how to raise a kid. Her parents are kinda helpful about it but also she doesn't want to raise Chelsea how she was raised so hgjhrj. Chelsea was orignally planned to be autistic since this entire book is a transparent cover for neurodivergent rep but the version of her in my head is so very ADHD instead. They only show up near the end of the book so I'm still experimenting with them a bit but Lexi is a huge book worm and Chelsea loves unicorns, like, I mean in the 'mythology is cool way' not the 'stereotypical girl behaviour' way. She does love pink things and sparkles though

THERE IS ANOTHER CHARACTER BUT THEY'RE A SPOILERRRR BUT I WILL JUST SAY THEY ARE NOT HUMAN AND ALSO WHAT THE TITLE OF THE BOOK IS TALKING ABOUT

(It's a sentient shadow, that's- do you get the pun in the name- there's three references in it-)

[zoyalannister]

LOVE TO SEE GABRIEL LIGHTWOOD APPRECIATION!!

WHO DARES TO SAY HE'S A NEGLECTFUL FATHER/HUSBAND?

Controversial opinion:

The other tid men wish to be half the man Gabriel is

End of controversial opinion

Also Gabriel is not sexist, he literally married the girl who told him in his face that she wanted to be a fighter and not the typical wife of the era, and after this is when he kisses her and begins their relationship, he knew what he was getting into and he wouldnt consent either Cecily became a trophy and a caretaker.

Let's take a walk through canon, and the parts they might be taking into account to say he's neglectful.

Shall we?

-Alexander is always with his mother or looking for her

Maybe Alex is a momma's boy? Maybe, but this doesn't mean the father isn't implied in his raising

-but Alex is always in Cecily's arms

True, because CC forgot Gabriel existed, he has ZERO lines in chot (please justify how when Tatiana was about to murder his toddler he stayed silent and it was Will and Gideon who talked, try to)

-But Cecily is always at home in canon with Alex, in EET it's her who goes to take care of him when he cries or when Ari come to the house she's holding him

True, but let's talk about some biology basic lessons, Alex was months old at EET, he was probably being breastfeeded so it's normal Cecily goes to him when he cries because 50% chance he's hungry, and babies during first months don't identify their mother as a different person than them, so he seeks comfort, it's n o r m a l.

This doesn't mean Gabriel isn't helping or taking care of him.

Also EET is about the mother-daughter bond Anna and Cecily have, Gabriel literally in one scene appears to be so tired (probably due to raising a baby and having to be awake at night for him) that he fell asleep in the carriage while Kit cuddled with him, do they think if Gabriel was truly absent Kit at 14 yo would cuddle to his father?

-But Gabriel doesn't want to be a father or a husband

Gabriel literally in CP2 says he finds cruel to marry a girl to leave her a widow, do they think someone who says this would be neglectful or abbandon his family?

-But Gabriel is afraid he becomes his father

This is never seen in canon or referenced, he is lost because he loved his father and he is worried he cant mourn him because he wasnt a great person, he never says or thinks he will become him.

P E R I O D.

Anon, you basically say what I think and if people still see Gabriel as a borderline toxic partner and father probably they've read a different version of TID and EET (TLH doesn’t count since it ruined both him and Cecily).

I found some posts where Gabriel was basically described as the stereotypical absent father/husband who stays at the bar watching football instead of helping his wife with the household or parenting his kids.

Both Anna and Kit love him canonically, I doubt they would do so if Gabriel was a neglectful father.

And I agree with your controversial opinion: Gabriel is at least twice the man than every other male character in TID.

He would never let Cecily be just the wife and mother, unlike CC in TLH, and even if he did he would help her and not let her do most of the work.

[p0rchc0ll4ps3]

jean and judit in which jean complains and then displays crippling horse-autism and judit sits there and puts up with it

okay back at it again with one of my longass headcanons text posts. lemme know if i should put this under a cut, it's long as fuck.

this ones about judit! and her mostly professional work relationship with jean. cw for implied parental neglect, lots of references to misogyny and sexism, jean being conservative, and jean being an ass as he is. also my numbering calculations

judit's mother and father would call her yoodit. She’s Hungarian in origin (elysium hungary would be in graad i think) but they’re revacholian French like everyone else. She's a mixture of a lot of things. (Just the way you have germans in Texas but they’re no longer German, just Texan). Named after her Hungarian / graadian grandmother who was a big humanitarian maybe. MAYBE jewish. Considering.

She’s 37, born in '14 -> had her kids when she was 21 and 23 respectively

Assigned to the unit 2 months ago but has been working in the rcm since ’41 since she was 27 (10 years)

One son (younger) one son (little bit older) -> 1 and a half years apart. 14 and 16. they're really close but they bicker a lot, as siblings do. Born in 37 and 35 (Judit 23 and 21 respectively) during the economic boom. initially wanted to be a secretary or some other stable office job to be there for her kids but chose the rcm instead. shes a little higher class than harry and jean, somewhere around lower middle class (tho the middle class is really rapidly vanishing)

She could’ve stayed home been there for her kids worked nearby but bc she was scared of the way the neighborhood was going (bad) and wanted to protect herself and her kids, she joined the rcm. she might actually have a house? Not sure. I think everyone has apartments, and hers is just a bigger one

while joining the rcm was initially a way to learn self-defense, it started to also become a way to change the future for her kids. She’s been working at the rcm since the kids were 4 and 6, and as a result she hasn’t really been there for them. But she’s been there for revachol. it's not intentional. she'd die for her sons but she also wants to ensure they have a world they can live in that's better than the current one. thus, for her sons, she chose the city.

Her husband is very A. Demanding B. Absent. He’s a lorry driver, and he’s very palefucked. He's often times gone for months on jobs. She mostly raises the kids herself

Two boys, the eldest Hungarian name but frenched, the youngest French name bc the husband insisted

Miklós (MEEK-losh) older (16 post-martinaise) and Théodore (Théo) younger (14 post-martinaise)

now the rcm info

Jean is very professional and put together and doing his goddamned job. he's depressed as fuck and half the time has to fight the 'i don't give a SHIT today i don't CARE' feelings but he pushes himself through it bc he's very much a guy who A. wants to do his job Right and B. feels like every moment he's not doing his job, someone's gonna' get fucked over badly for no reason, revachol's going to go to shit, and it'll all be his fault.

Judit gets transferred to his wing after her old partner died (a very gross older guy who she had a mediocre relationship with (they did some cases together, but the guy wasn't the best cop at all)). she also had a lot of trouble in a-wing bc of rampant sexism and misogyny. when she was still a naive fresh-to-the-rcm officer, she tended to mother everyone and try to get everyone to do their jobs and they've all used this as an excuse to belittle her and put her down and not respect her. so when her partner died she was a little bit relieved bc it let her move to a different wing. she felt a large amount of guilt that she A. didnt try hard enough not to get her partner killed B. that she didnt try hard enough not to make her partner do her job, C. that she was really relieved he's dead and no longer a part of the rcm and D. felt like he got what he deserved. it's been 10 years of this shit and it's so wearing on her.

i think she let him die

then she gets transferred to jean and c-wing and she's like oh fuck me not vicquemare bc everyone is scared of Jean bc Jean is so cold and professional and put together and she's like goddammit he's gonna be another fucking mysoginist and think he's better than me and put me in my place and exert his power over me. so she's like fuck I'm going to just have to deal with his ass

but then Jean is so calm and put together and professional and level-headed and just smart as fuck. He IS misogynistic but she finds out she can very easily put him in his place if she stands her ground and the more he gets respect for her the less he does it. shes VERY relieved bc fuck. i thought the rcm didn't have good cops anymore. his misogyny i can deal with (and she really does put him in his place)

i think jean's very buried optimisim/hopefulness that revachol can pick herself up out of the ashes and be reborn really makes judit start to believe in her job again. she really lost faith in the rcm and lost faith in revachol and had been seriously regretting choosing this hell, dead-end job over her kids, but then here's jean and despite how fucking grumpy and mean he is (and misogynistic and bigoted and misguided), she sees how he's actually truly trying and it makes her feel hopeful again too

She's not as smart as Harry (the way he can put three and three together) but not as intense either and very quiet and put together and calm in tense situations and best of all TRUSTWORTHY and RELIABLE

Coz jean was like 'oh great a fucking patrol officer and she watched her partner die great I got another fucking wreck that I'll have to fucking baby and she'll be stupid as fuck and know nothing bc she's a damn patrol officer (after ten years. still. (maybe she never got promoted coz she's a woman wahoo)) and also a goddamned fucking woman, women don't know anything fuck me. the last woman hurt me really bad. all women suck. fuck women.' But then she really quickly proves her worth and she's not scared of him like everyone else is and he finds he can't just easily boss her around and put her in her place bc she will outwait him like she is so goddamned patient and she is So pushy and unintimidated by his 'i'm the man and know better than you so you have to listen to me ' tactics. she's dealt with so much of that shit that it does NOT phase her anymore

And she's pushy and a good cop and really knows how to throw her authority around and really is really promising despite everything and jeans like THANK FUCK FINALLY SOMEONE WHO KNOWS HOW TO DO THINGS AROUND HERE and it gives him respect women juice. she literally forces him to treat her with respect bc shes just another officer of the rcm and i really think it'll click into place for jean and he'll get over his misogyny. i believe in him, he's just misguided as fuck and has mommy issues

And the closer they get work-bondingwise the more he finds he can talk about just whatever and that he never has to worry about upsetting her or being a bother or being unprofessional or crossing any lines because she is SO CLEAR about them she always without a doubt says No officer I'm not doing that. No officer you need to be quiet.

She respects him a lot bc he is so competent and smart and willing to teach her when she fucks shit up and because of that afore-mentioned hopefulness. and even though he's gruff and yells at her about it and he's pissed at her fucking up and rough with her about it, he knows that she can take it, that she likes a challenge and can handle making mistakes, and he never doubts that she can learn better and trusts that she can do it right next time. And also. He knows she doesn’t take it personally. Hes pretty rough with her when she fucks up and no she doesnt like it (and TELLS HIM) but she also knows hes more pissed at the inconvenience of the situation than at her specifically (though he Is still pissed at her specifically, too)

There's a reason she got assigned to jean bc pryce saw that she could really learn from him

They're not good friends tho. Just good coworkers. They don't talk about personal things. He's still misogynist every now and then and bigoted and she's very liberal/communist/socialist and very pro women's rights (compared to jean's nationalistic views and oh we should become a great monarchy again. this was also a point of contention bw him and harry. i think jean'll get over this as well and learn better (he basically just wants power. bc he's got 'im not man enough' complexes)). She probably has lower pay than men. Her political alignment is whatever will be best for her kids and whatever will make their future a one they want to live in

Jean can get a bit insensitive and mansplainy and it drives judit NUTS but she always puts her foot down and puts him in his place. She's extremely clear about her boundaries and Jean who is a guy who has a hard time telling boundaries (maybe? still figuring this out) (also maybe part of why he's a good cop, he crosses the line and knows how to work it) really appreciates that

since she's lower rank than him also they have a very professional, emotionally cold way of communicating

also this thought: jean mansplaining and telling judit really in-depth about horse racing or whatever the hell and judit's just like 'yeah uhuh sure. great. cool' and jean's like 'you don't actually give a shit do you' and she says 'if you don't mind my opinion, sir, i really don't give a shit.' and he's like 'then why do you let me talk?' and she says 'honestly, officer, i don't think a lot of people let you talk.'

so y eah. that's my longass explanation and thoughts. thanks for reading!

EDIT: I FORGOT ABOUT CANON EVENTS AND HOW THEY BOTH DON'T DO FUCKALL but you know. it's bc jean is an ass and pissed at harry and judit can't actually do anything because hello she's way lower rank

edit 2: what if jean... doesn't get better... hmmm things to think about for sure. i do think there has to be some kinda' hope for the future and that harry's post-memory-forgetting influence rearranges shit. bc i think theres something to be said about harry loving the world so much that he stops the nuke from happening. and that he loves the people he's close with / bonded with and loves his community and that through that and through his helping those around him, he pushes back despair. so im kinda' like yeah. jean getting better is part of it. he's still gonna be depressed and grumpy and suck but maybe he stops being so hopeless. things to think about...

text transcript under cut as usual

Jean on the left: Fucking hate this fucking weather makes me fucking late. Judit on the left: I'm in no position to say, sir, but I don't think it's the weather. Jean in the bottom middle: It's gloomy it's fucking muddy it's wet there's traffic.

Jean on the top middle on horse: -> mansplaining horse-racing -> smiling bc of it Judit on the top middle on horse: -> 1 second away from getting him to SHUT THE HELL UP LIEUTENANT.

Judit far right: SIGH.

[crow-rodriguez]

Chapter Twelve: Therapy

I found myself in the waiting room of my older brother’s therapist's office, taking in the comfortable ambiance. The room was tastefully decorated, with plush chairs inviting relaxation. A table displayed an assortment of donuts and coffee, and a rack held various magazines to pass the time. Despite the welcoming environment, an unsettling feeling crept over me. The prospect of delving into my experiences with KelHani, memories from my quinceañera, and the challenging times at the conversion camp made my skin prickle with anxiety. Each thought weighed heavily on me, intensifying my nervousness about what lay ahead in therapy.

Eventually, a woman walked into the waiting room with a clipboard and a comforting smile, “Valentina Rodriguez?” she asked which caught my attention, making me stand up. I looked at the woman, she had a very warm, motherly vibe to her which made me feel uneasy since I didn’t have the best relationship with my own mother.

“That’s me,” I mumbled, walking over to her as I shoved my hands into my pockets.

She smiled at me, “Ethan told me his little sister was beautiful but he wasn’t lying, you’re gorgeous,” she told me as she held her hand out, “I’m Theo,” she said as she noticed my refusal to shake her hand, “if you’d follow me, we can go to my office,”

I nodded as I followed her to her office, “I prefer to be called Val…” I mumbled.

She nodded, “alright, great. Sit down and I’d like to ask you some questions to get to know you,” she told me as she sat at her desk.

I sat down, “what do you wanna ask me?’ I asked.

“What brings you to therapy at this time?” Theo asked me.

“I had a panic attack on Monday, the elevator stalled…” I said, avoiding eye contact.

“Have you tried therapy in the past?” She asked me.

“No, I haven’t. My parents think this is a bunch of idiocy,” I told her.

Theo nodded and wrote something down, “can you tell me a bit about your family and your upbringing?” she asked, looking at me.

I thought a bit and nodded, “Ethan is my half brother as you know, and I have a twin sister who’s always traveling with my mom because they’re both models. My dad is kind of absent, he mainly pays attention to Ethan but I think that’s because Ethan is always doing things to piss him off,” I started as I looked at the floor, “my mom and I don’t really have a good relationship, she’s kind of a bitch… Can I curse here?” I asked.

“Express yourself however you want, Val,” Theo told me as she listened to me, “what was it like for you growing up in your household?”

I shrugged, trying to find the right words to capture my upbringing. "It was... alright, I guess," I began hesitantly. "I wouldn’t say I experienced severe abuse or neglect in the way many people might think of it. I was never starved or physically beaten, but my mom did smack me occasionally when she was upset."

Taking a deep breath, I continued, "My dad, on the other hand, has always been distant, especially since my quinceañera." My voice wavered as I recalled that painful memory. "I'll never forget how he left me standing alone on the dance floor. He completely skipped the father-daughter dance with me, choosing to dance with my twin sister, Rosa, instead." My eyes misted over as I remembered feeling abandoned and humiliated in my tuxedo, which he disapproved of, longing for a moment of connection that never came.

"But," I added, a small smile forming on my lips, "that’s when Ethan stepped in." My smile grew wider as the warmth of that memory flooded back. "He saw what happened and didn’t hesitate to dance with me, filling the role my father had neglected. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to me.

“How did that make you feel?’ Theo asked as she wrote in her notebook more, “how did you feel after your dad rejected you and Ethan stepped in?”

I looked at my hands, “I felt embarrassed, I had never been left like that. I rarely spoke with my dad but he always seemed to be the type that was there for me. He often defended me to my mother when I was younger. So I was completely shocked when he looked at me like I was a disappointment to him,” I explained, “but Ethan has always been there for me. In fact, he and his boyfriend, Raymond, had sort of become like my parents long before my quinceanera,” I added.

Theo nodded, “how so?” she asked.

“Well, they always attended my dance comps. They always encouraged me to be true to myself, even now they encourage me. They both started crying when I gave them the portraits and handwritten letters for christmas. They are best friends with my late girlfriend’s older brother too, so I still see Dya even though it’s been three years since Kel’s death,” I told her, not even realizing that I had mentioned KelHani.

Theo nodded, “tell me about KelHani,” she told me, “who was she?”

I paused, collecting my thoughts as memories of KelHani flooded my mind. "KelHani was a force of nature," I began, a warmth creeping into my voice. "She was spunky and vivacious, the kind of person who lit up any room she walked into. Her laughter was infectious, and her jokes, while sometimes crude, always had a way of making you laugh, even when you didn't want to."

Taking a deep breath, I continued, "She had a tough childhood, let down by the people who were supposed to protect her the most—her parents. I think that's why she built such strong walls around herself. But despite those barriers, she had a heart of gold that she only showed to a select few. Dyamond, her older brother, and I were lucky enough to see past those walls and experience the depth of her kindness and caring nature."

A fond smile spread across my face as I remembered her fiercely protective streak. "KelHani was fiercely loyal to her friends," I said, my voice tinged with admiration. "I'll never forget the time she stood up for someone who was about to be bullied. She had this fiery temper that could flare up in an instant, especially when she saw injustice. I remember she once confronted a guy at school who was about to use a derogatory slur. Without hesitation, she stood up to him, and let's just say, he got a lot more than he bargained for. While I agreed with her stance, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the way she handled it. It was both terrifying and awe-inspiring to witness."

As I spoke, I realized I was gushing about KelHani, unable to contain my affection and respect for her. "She was a complex blend of strength and vulnerability, humor and heart," I concluded, my voice softening. "And even though she kept many at arm's length, those lucky enough to get close saw a side of her that was truly special."

“You described her as your late girlfriend, has she passed on?” She asked me.

I nodded, my voice tight with restrained anger. "She was shot by a cop who clearly should've gone to an optometrist before assuming a water gun was a real firearm," I said, my frustration evident. "Instead of facing consequences, the cop got off without any discipline. KelHani's family had to take legal action just to get a shred of justice," I added, gripping my sweatpants a little too tightly.

[white-bouquet]

Sasuke's Redemption

S: Word circles among workers and patients at Konoha hospital about Sasuke's return after a long mission away. Running home to meet him, Sakura is met by Sasuke on her way, and Sasuke has a family mission to do when he makes it home to his daughter.

c: Sasuke Uchiha x Sarada Uchiha

wc: 702

w: hc ; angst ; open ending ; internal feelings

tw: family issues

an: first time writing something in an actual type of format, I apologize for amateur mistakes in genre etc.

Sasuke's Redemption

Sakura walks down a path aligned with cherry blossom trees, the wind picking the leaves off the tree and carrying them along, enshrouding her in pink as she travels. Her husband, Sasuke, was just seen returning to the village. His return swirling among the conversations in the hospital; Sakura had to leave work early in order to catch him on his way home. Gratefully, the hospital was not too busy, the abundance of peace that followed the 7th means the hospital is no longer overtaxed with victims of war and the hospital could afford her absence for the day. 

As she strolls and basks in the sun, breathing in the serenity of her environment, enjoying the absolute beauty of the day, a strange and offsetting gust of wind emanates from behind her. Before she could turn her shoulder, a hand with a black glove is gently placed upon her shoulder and a gentle comfort rushes her. The other hand pokes her on the forehead. Sasuke has caught her on her way home.  

Gently holding each other, they walk with a smoothness and a care, avoiding any possible missteps that would lead to one stepping on or tripping over the other. It’s an affection Sakura is not accustomed to, due to Sasuke’s absence. It’s one Sarada, their daughter, is even less accustomed to. Despite the unpleasant conversation in regards to his absence and his relationship with his family being at the tip of her tongue, she instead simply asks Sasuke to share stories of his path to redemption, and how much stronger he has gotten now that his path is set away from the self-destructive path of vengeance and hate.  

Sasuke tells tales of a forgotten clan that uses a rare dojutsu that allows them to manipulate blood, and shares details in regards to his fights with the infamous Otsutsukis. In return, Sakura shares her experience in the hospital, honing her medical skills as the second greatest medical kunoichi in the world. Sasuke was ecstatic to learn she is beginning to study how to perform Creation Rebirth. 

Upon arrival to the house, Sarada is in her room reading. Anxious, Sasuke worries about her reaction upon seeing him, but to his wife’s encouragement, he steadily plods himself to her room. As expected, she is reading in the middle of the room, back turned to the door, and surprisingly did not hear the door open. Sasuke stands at the doorway for a second, admiring and watching his beloved daughter.  

Tears fill his eye. All the years of neglect and being absent, chasing after his own redemption for the deeds he had done in his past, all catching up to him and manifesting in this scene. Last he saw Sarada, she had been grown but he did not recognize her, and he had left her heartbroken. Feeling like a hypocrite, chasing vengeance for the loneliness forced upon him by his brother; he is watching another Uchiha be forced to cope with loneliness and neglect slumped on them by the absence of their family; this time, neglect and loneliness that he has caused. 

He has forced loneliness upon his daughter just like his brother forced loneliness upon him.  

For the first time since the incident, Sasuke begins to cry. Silently.  

With tears blurring his vision, he silently approaches Sarada in her spot in the middle of the room, her back still turned away from him, thinking about the possibility that he imbued hatred in her heart for what he has done. Sarada was already aware her father was in the room, and was watching him stand there like a lump and approach her. She was angry with him, showing a stoic and dismissive demeanor, interested in how he would respond. When Sasuke reaches her, he kneels down and gives her a hug from behind. Unlike their last encounter, Sarada felt warmth and affection from the hug, and began crying with her father. He pokes her on the forehead, affirming his love for Sarada in the greater way he shows affection as described by her mother.  

“You don’t ever have to forgive me. No matter what you decide to do from now on, I will always love you.” 

[officialwagnerrant]

A few thoughts on the Met’s father’s day opera

Note: In this rant I’ll only be talking about Wagner’s ten most famous operas, the ones in the repertoire of the Bayreuth Festival. This is because while I run a Wagner-Blog, I don’t know enough about his early works to even try to analyse them.

A few days ago, the Metropolitan Opera launched the schedule for their father’s day week, also known as Verdi Week II, as five of the seven streamed operas are works by Verdi: Simon Boccanegra, La Traviata, Don Carlos, Rigoletto, and Luisa Miller. They also show Mozart’s Idomeneo and one work by Richard Wagner: Die Walküre from Der Ring des Nibelungen. I took this as a chance to write a rant about father figures in Wagner operas.

I do not consider Wotan a particularly good father. We know he has at least eleven children. Nine Valkyries and the twins, Siegmund und Sieglinde. Only one of his children got something even close to fatherly love, his favourite daughter Brünnhilde. While I suppose the other Valkyries are at least cared for and even see their father from time to time, they aren’t really loved. They do a job for Wotan and the other god’s and that’s it. The Wälsungen on the other hand aren’t even cared for. Their mother was killed, Sieglinde abducted, and their isn’t any evidence for Wotan even trying to find her. Instead, he later abandoned his son as well. Of course, he later finds Sieglinde and leaves Nothung for the man strong enough to pull it out of the tree - definitely planning this man to be Siegmund, but then again he lets his wife persuade him to get Siegmund killed. Here we go back to Brünnhilde, the only loved child. The one who tries to rescue Siegmund against her father’s will. And we learn that Wotan’s love is not unconditional. When Brünnhilde doesn’t obey Wotan, she is left on a rock and forced to marry the first man to wake her. Luckily Wotan’s love is still strong enough to still protect her from having to marry anyone. One has to be a hero to reach her. It’s not Wotan’s fault this hero ends up to be Siegfried. However, the love for one child does not outweigh the neglect of the other ten.

After deciding Wotan isn’t the kind of father to honor on father’s day I thought about what other fathers exist in Wagner’s work and if another opera might have been the better choice for the met. I figured, that while there isn’t a perfect father, there are better ones. And those don’t even need to be biological fathers.

Not all of Wagner’s operas feature a father at all. There’s Parsifal, who’s father is long dead before the opera even begins, as well as Tristan’s father. Isolde’s father is only mentioned once and never appears on stage. Their absence does not mean they didn’t have an impact on their children. Isolde’s father being alive also raises the question wether he really should have let Tristan take her. Maybe he thought her strong and protected, maybe he thought he was doing her a favour. I won’t judge the absent fathers any further, we don’t know them.

The exception is Elsa’s father from Lohengrin. When this man died, he let Telramund care for his children and promised him his daughter’s hand. He promised his underaged daughter to the man trusted with her upbringing. He allowed him to groom her. I don’t think there’s any need for me to explain why this is bad. I won’t go on further on why Telramund isn’t a goof father figure either, if you’re reading this you know the plot of Lohengrin well enough. Lohengrin’s father, Parzival, is alive. One could argue that he’s partly responsible for Lohengrin not knowing how to treat a woman without scaring and gaslighting her.

Now lets get to the living father figures. First up is Daland from Der Fliegende Holländer. One might say he only wants his daughter to be financially safe, however the fact that he allowes a man he met the same day to marry his daughter because he has money, without asking her and with no regard to her already existing engagement to Erik, shows two thing: Firstly, maybe it’s more about making himself rich than making Senta rich, secondly, while he might care for Senta he doesn’t see her as a human with her own agency. Of course, Senta wanted to be with the Holländer, but if Daland hadn’t boasted about her, while insisting to take in the Holländer, she might still be alive.

The next opera is Tannhäuser. It doesn’t feature a biological father, Elisabeth’s uncle, the Landgraf von Thüringen, is the father figure in this opera. He is the first one to actually do a decent job. Elisabeth can choose the partner she wants, Tannhäuser is welcomed back in the Wartburg-Circle, the Landgraf is ready to give his daughter away. Until Tannhäuser reveals he’s been with Venus. Of course, it’s not good that Tannhäuser wouldn’t have been given a second chance without Elisabeth, but it can be excused: Landgraf Hermann simply wants to protect Elisabeth. Eventually he agrees on letting Tannhäuser go with the pilgrims. He’s doing his best to keep his niece happy, but also safe.

We skip Lohengrin and Tristan and go straight to Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. Eva’s father is Veit Pogner. Opposite to Daland his daughter isn’t supposed to marry anyone for money, Eva’s suitors have to prove themselves worthy, so they can have her hand and Pogner’s money. As Elisabeth, Eva has somewhat free choice. She can say no, she doesn’t have to marry Beckmesser, should he be the only competitor, but she cannot say yes to just anyone. Ein Meistersinger muss er sein - she’s only allowed to marry Walther von Stolzing after Sachs helped him to win the title of a Meistersinger. Sachs could be argued a second father figure in Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. He seems to have been a major caretaker for Eva. Just as Pogner, he lets her say no, he lets her make her own decisions. He even goes out of his way to help her say yes to Walther.  What makes me immediately question his father qualities is the fact that while he restrains from marrying Eva himself, he did consider it, which places him in a corner near Telramund. Pogner, and Sachs, still are the most decent fathers in all of Wagner’s operas.

That I can say before even writing about the last, often forgotten father. Hagen’s father Alberich. He has contact with his son, which already is a lot, but Hagen is a mere tool for him. I doubt he would have shared the riches and power with Hagen, if he’d won the treasure again. This immediately disqualifies Götterdämmerung as a father’s day opera.

While Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg and even Tannhäuser feature the better fathers, I am not surprised that Die Walküre got picked for father’s day. By showing Hamlet and Elektra for mother’s day the met has  already proven that they don’t intend to show and honor good parents on their respective day. They can keep showing bad parents, of course, but they need to be prepared for a lot of laughs.

- dichterfuerstin

[thedreammweaver]

On the Wings of a Snow White Dove (Burton-schumacherverse 50s au, southern!riddlebird, pastor!Oswald)

(A/N: This is heavily inspired by the film The Devil All The Time which I very much recommend keeping in mind the triggering aspects of the film and proceeding with caution of course.)

Warnings: Murder, abuse, homophobia, blood, viscera, smoking, talk of hate crimes, alcoholism

It was hot in the church that day. Ed only came to get away from his father who was no doubt drunk at home. He bounced his leg trying not to think about it, choosing to focus on the sermon instead though he was more there for the person preaching it.

“Now, people have assumed that I hate God for the way he created me,” Oswald continued, circling around to the podium “but let me tell y’all somethin’, if my parents hadn’t left me at that orphanage with the good sisters that raised me I would have never found the lord. It is because of these deformities that I stand up here in front of you today. So no I do not think it was a mistake or a curse or whatever else folks wanna call it, I think of it as a gift given to me so that I would be able to give the gift of god to you fine people.” There were multiple murmurs of ‘amen’ and the like from the congregation. “It’s hot out there ain’t it, folks?” Oswald chuckled, he switched his gaze to look directly at Edward “It’s only gonna get hotter..”

“You’re good at bullshittin’, huh?” Ed laughed, absently smoothing out the picnic blanket he and Oswald were on. “Yeah, I suppose so.” He was leaning on one of his elbows, staring up at the sky, and puffing on a cigar. Ed had neglected getting fully dressed again, staying in just his briefs was helping with the heat. Oswald, despite being more sensitive to the temperature, preferred to be covered up. His suit jacket and tie were the only things still off.

“How much of that sermon was true?”

Oswald scoffed “None of it. Wasn’t ever any orphanage, my folks weren’t that nice.” Oswald sighed “They threw me in a sewer...and then I got picked up by a circus. Being raised by nuns would’ve been a lot nicer, I can tell you that, but people like pretty sob stories.”

“So..you don’t even believe in god and all that?” Ed asked as he turned to lay on his back, trying to make it clear he was just curious and not judging.

“Honey, I knew there wasn’t a god the first time I looked in a mirror.” Oswald laughed, his chuckles were mixed with small coughs. That statement made Ed a bit sad, he thought Oswald was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. “How can you stand up there and talk like that if you don’t even believe that stuff?” Ed wasn’t a very good liar himself and was amazed at Oswald’s ability to captivate a crowd with virtually nothing.

“There was this ‘faith healer’ in the circus, I snuck off to his tent to watch him when he did his schtick. The power he had over those people...I wanted power like that...so I got him to teach me everything he knew then I killed him.”

Ed sat up “You what?”

Oswald rolled his eyes “Oh hush, it ain’t any different from those boys killin’ overseas. Only difference is some bigwig gave em’ permission to do it.” Oswald tenderly placed the cigar between Ed’s lips so he could take a puff “Don’t worry, I would never hurt a hair on your pretty little head.” Oswald cooed.

“Where were you?” Ed startled at his father’s voice as he was coming through the door. “At church.” Ed was trying to keep his voice steady. “Church ended two hours ago, boy. Where were you?” His dad was in his arm chair lighting a cigarette “Close the goddamn door, you’re lettin’ too much light in.” Ed did as he was told and gently shut the door “Reverend Cobblepot wanted me to stay behind to help with one of his sermons.”

“Why did he want you, you’re about as dumb as a bucket a rocks.” Ed’s father laughed, before getting serious and leaning forward “Ms. Kyle told me she saw y’all go in the woods together.”Ed felt himself starting to lose his nerve “Reverend Cobblepot focuses better out there..”

“Uh huh...” Ed’s father looked at him suspiciously. “You gonna be late home every week then?”

“Yes..if I’m allowed to be, sir.” Ed was avoiding the older man’s gaze.

“I guess if it’s church...then you can.” Ed’s father huffed.

Ed snuggled into Oswald’s chest as they sat in the shorter man’s car. He’d been able to sneak away while his dad was at a bar, hopefully drinking so much he wouldn’t be lucid enough to pick on Ed in the morning. “I love you..” Ed felt himself whisper into the buttons of Oswald’s shirt. Oswald was a bit shocked, Ed had never said that before “I love you too.” A few seconds passed before Ed began sobbing. Oswald held Ed close and petted his hair as he cried.

Ed was eagerly getting ready for church when his father came into his room. “Don’t bother with all that. You’re coming out to the woods with me today.”

“But, Dad, what about chur-“

“Don’t argue with me, boy. You’re coming to the woods with me, I got somethin’ to show you.”

Ed felt uneasy walking in the woods with his father. The older man stopped as they came up on a clearing. “I want you to look out there at that nature and stuff and....think about the lord.” Ed was confused but he did so. His confusion turned into terror as he heard the hammer of a gun being pulled back. He spun around to see that his father now had a pistol aimed at him.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t want you lookin’ at me while I do this.”

“D-Dad, wh-“

“You’re sick. You and that damned preacher, you’re both sick. He ain’t my responsibility but you are, it’s my job to put you down.”

“D-Da-“

“TURN AROUND!!”

Ed was shaking and crying as he did so, his dad continued talking “You should be thankful. People like you usually get beat to death or strung up, ‘specially in these parts. Be glad I’m doing this the humane way.”

“Daddy, please, I-I-I’m sorry..I won’t do it again I promise.” Ed blubbered through his uneven panicked breaths. He jumped as he heard a gunshot thinking surely he was about to be hit with a wave of pain...but it never came. Instead he heard a thud in the grass behind him. When he turned around he saw his father on the ground with the back of his head blown open, blood and brains splattered all over the grass. He looked up to see Oswald stowing a pistol of his own back in his back pocket. Without thinking on it much Ed ran over to hug the shorter man tightly, Oswald having to practically catch him as he melted into sobs. “It’s okay now, honey. You’re safe.” Oswald whispered, letting Ed wail into his chest.

“I have no idea how you can eat right now..” Ed mumbled from where he was sitting in Oswald’s lap. His own stomach had been in knots since they’d disposed of his father’s body. “It’s not easy to make me lose my appetite, Eddie.” Oswald chuckled, stuffing another piece of catfish into his mouth. Ed laid his head on Oswald’s shoulder, feeling safe in the other man’s home instead of at his dilapidated house with his father. He felt very relieved that he would never be going back.

[scourgewins]

Hats Off

(Drawing Entity and I did a roleplay that delved a bit into Jack’s backstory, so of course I had to write it. This has a different format than I usually do- a lot of jumping through time. We’ll see how it turned out. Jack fans, prepare for some angst, but with a happy ending because I can’t hurt my sewer boy too much.)

(Warnings: crying, fainting, parental neglect but it’s not intentional, Jack gets a bit careless about his own personal safety, Sammy is a jerk but what else is new?)

Up here on the roof of the studio, it was cold and windy. Jack kept a hand on the brim of his hat to ensure it didn’t fly off and squinted at the city below him, using his other hand to shade his eyes from the setting Sun. The whole scene looked like a poem waiting to be written, and already he began to construct a verse.

Beneath the fire a city lies,

Shaded by unknowing skies-

“What are you doing up here?”

Jack bit his lip and glared into the distance, “Getting some peace and quiet.”

“That so?” Sammy moved over to him and leaned over the side of the building, resting his elbows on the parapet. The wind whipped the long hair his ponytail hadn’t contained, so much so that the musician had to tuck it firmly behind his ears.

Sammy glanced at him, “Don’t let me disturb you, then.”

“I shall try.” the lyricist replied through gritted teeth.

Sammy was quiet but Jack knew that wouldn’t last long.

“Come up here often?” the musician said at last.

Jack sighed, “When I so please. You?”

“When I feel like it.”

Sammy considered a nearby building and said absently, “Sure is windy.”

Jack glanced at him and narrowed his eyes, “Yes.”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose your hat?”

“I would never let it fall.”

“Sure about that?”

“Why would-”

With a quick swipe, Sammy batted the hat right from Jack’s grip. The lyricist stared in horror as it sailed over the edge of the roof, buffeted by the wind. Without pausing to think, he made a wild grab for it, almost throwing himself over the parapet.

“Woah, Jack!” Sammy gripped him by the collar of his jacket and yanked him back to safety. Jack staggered but regained his footing immediately and dashed toward the stairwell. No! No! No! He couldn’t let anything happen to his hat.

He sprinted down the narrow, dark staircase that smelled of dust and mold and canned food…

Normally, Jack would have found the scent unpleasant, but his nose was so stuffed up and wet right now that it didn’t bother him. There was plenty else to bother him.

The 10-year old sniffed and wiped his dripping nose on the sleeve of his shirt. Mom hated it when he and his siblings did that. Jack couldn’t find it in him to care at the moment. His sleeve moved up past his nose to his eyes, rubbing them in an effort to clear the tears away. It worked for about three seconds before the tears came back in greater number.

Bringing his knees up, Jack buried his face in them. His breath came in small hiccups, deliberately quietened so no one would know he was in here, beneath the lowest shelf in the pantry, hidden behind bags of flour.

Two of his siblings ran by, laughing and yelling, outside the door. Someone else was crying in the distance, and Jack could hear his mother rush to comfort them. It was always loud in this house. Always.

There was never time for any one of the many children in this household. Just when his mother or father gave attention to one, another would rush to claim it. And Jack, smaller than the others, one of the many middle children, never one to speak up, tended to be the most pushed aside. Even on his birthday.

The boy clapped his hands over his ears to block out the constant noise. His small fingers clenched in his curly black hair, longer than he wanted it because his parents never seemed to have time to give him a haircut.

Distantly, he heard the front door open and close. His father’s voice spoke and his mother responded, though Jack couldn’t tell what it was they said. Then loud footsteps made their way to the kitchen, becoming clearer as they approached. The pantry door was flung open and the light switch flipped on. Jack stared at the faded brown of his father’s shoes, the only part of him visible from the shelf he was under. A knee knelt down to the floor and began selecting canned food from the opposite shelf.

He must have heard Jack’s breathing, for he suddenly stopped and turned, lowering his head. Blue eyes met blue eyes as Jack’s father’s lined, mustached face came to level with his. It was clear he’d just come home from work, since he still wore his coat and hat.

“Jack?” his father asked, “What are you doing in here?”

Jack felt his face flush with shame. He hadn’t wanted anyone to see him crying like this. Now his dad would force him to come out and all his siblings would tease him.

In answer to his dad’s question, Jack just shook his head, not trusting his voice. His father sighed and got back to his feet with a groan. He’s leaving. That was something Jack should be grateful for, but instead he just felt hurt because he’d just banged his hand on the railing of the staircase as he reached ground level…

Jack’s feet skidded against the hardwood floor as he turned abruptly toward the animation department, shoving past a very stunned Wally. He could hear Sammy sprinting down the stairs after him. Panting, the lyricist bolted through the animation department and down the hallway to the exit. 

“Jack, what happened?” It was Henry’s voice calling after him. Jack didn’t break stride and reached his hand out to open the front door.

His hat lay in the middle of the street. Without pausing, he put on a burst of speed and made for it. A car drove past and just barely missed the hat, making Jack’s heart flutter in panic. Another car came around the bend and sped toward it.

“Stop!” he screamed, waving his hands as he leaped forward.

“Jack!” Sammy’s breathless voice shouted in his ear and grasped his arm tightly, jarring him in place. The car slowed down slightly after seeing Jack about to rush into the road, but not enough to avoid the hat. Jack watched as the hat he’d worn since he was a child disappeared under one of the tires.

“No!” He stumbled forward and fell to his knees, forcing himself from Sammy’s grip. It hadn’t happened! It couldn’t have!

The grass rose to claim him as Jack hit the ground, his mind winding down and shutting off with a-

Click went the door to the pantry as it shut, but Jack’s dad hadn’t left. The tired man instead settled onto the floor in front of Jack. The boy’s heart beat faster as he came to the sudden realization that they were alone, no siblings to interrupt.

His father again fixed his eyes on Jack, a knowing look in them, “Is this about your birthday?”

Yes, it was, but it was also about a whole lot of other things. Jack nodded.

Another sigh, “We didn’t forget Jack, it’s just… well… I’ve got work. Your mother has to take care of you and your brothers and sisters and the house. We’re always so busy that it’s hard to focus on just one kid. And yeah, we mess up. A lot. But we’re trying, okay?”

Jack nodded again. His dad’s face wrinkled in thought, eyes fixed on the ragged lace of his left shoe.

“We couldn’t afford to buy you anything, you know.”

Jack lowered his gaze. He knew. It had always been that way and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

“But we hoped maybe… something of mine might suffice.”

That brought his attention back up. His dad’s gaze was back on him as he reached up and took the hat from his head.

“I think you said you liked this hat once. I don’t know, might have been one of your siblings.”

“No, it was me.” Jack said quickly, his voice sounding strange after crying so long.

His father nodded, “That’s good.”

He scooted back a foot, “Come out of there.”

Jack complied, crawling out from his hiding place to kneel in front of his dad. His father considered him for a few moments and Jack held his breath. Then the weary man gripped the hat by the brim and placed it firmly on his son’s head. It immediately slipped down to the boy’s nose, and Jack tilted the brim back to see his father smiling at him.

“You look good.” he said, “It’ll fit you just right in a few years. Every young man should go into life with a nice hat.”

Jack smiled slowly, feeling warm and safe, even on the hardwood floor of the studio...

“Hey, I think he’s coming round!”

“Ah! He’s alive!”

“He wasn’t dead, Wally.”

“Everybody back up, okay? Jack, can you hear me?”

“Are you dead?”

“Wally, I swear to goodness-!”

Everyone quieted down as Jack slowly opened his eyes, seeing first Henry, who was bending over him, then Wally, and…

Sammy.

Jack scrambled to a sitting position as memories of recent events returned to him.

“My hat…” His voice broke.

“Your hat is fine, Jack.” Henry said reassuringly. Jack blinked at him, unwilling to accept false hope.

“Look!” Wally pointed over at Sammy. Sammy sighed and moved more into Jack’s line of sight, holding something out to him.

It was his hat. Jack seized it quickly and inspected it. Part of one side had been crushed by the car, resulting in a noticeable dent.

“It’s fixable.” Henry said, “I can take it to the hat shop for you, if you like.”

Jack couldn’t speak. He turned his hat over with shaky fingers, feeling its familiar curve and texture. It was damaged, but not beyond repair. As that realization sank in, Jack started to cry.

Henry was surprised but quick to hide it, “It’s alright now, Jack. Everything’s alright.”

Wally, ever the sensitive one, started to sniffle, and was pretty soon sobbing beside the lyricist.

Sammy stood slightly apart, not meeting Jack’s gaze. Henry was the first to address him.

“Sammy, what do you have to say for yourself?” His voice was strict.

The musician looked at him, at the ceiling, at the floor, then finally at Jack.

“Sorry for tossing your hat off the roof. Won’t happen again.” he muttered, and for some reason the apology sounded genuine, though maybe Jack couldn’t hear right through his sobs.

A part of Jack felt he should yell at Sammy for what he did, but the rest of him couldn’t muster the energy. Instead, he hugged his hat to him, careful not to dent it even more, and continued to cry.

“Thanks.” Jack said quietly, looking up at his dad. His father chuckled and patted him gently on the shoulder.

“Don’t mention it.”

Then he regathered up the cans and stood up.

“Happy birthday, Jack.” He said, then walked out and shut the door. Jack stared after him, already wishing he’d come back.

The weight of the hat on his head came to mind as he sat there, and Jack reached a hand up to feel its smooth, curved surface. The smile that had faded from his face returned as his tears dried up, and he adjusted the hat so it sat better on his head. At that moment, he knew he would wear it forever.

[iamfitzwilliamdarcy]

Title: The Haunting Blessing of Wayne Manor Summary: Tim is convinced a demon has moved into the Wayne Manor; Jason decides it's past time Wayne Manor is blessed. (Set in Catie's Fr. Todd AU) (ao3)

It’s @catie-does-things ‘s birthday today!! Happy birthday Catie!!!!! The Manor seems like an excessively Massive place to bless but Fr. Todd’s gonna Do It Anyway!!! Hope you enjoy and have a great birthday :D (as a sn: this is based entirely on house blessings that my college chaplain did for us...but the last one of those was 3 years ago; also semi-based on a story from one of my chaplains that it’s also been about 3 years since I’ve heard...I think most of it is pretty Accurate to how Life Works tho) 

“I think there’s a demon in the Mansion,” Tim says, and Jason doesn’t look up from the Halloween lesson notes he’s preparing for the elementary and middle-schoolers at the school Dominic’s been assigned to.

“You can’t keep calling Damian that,” he says absently, starring a place he thinks can reword.

“You’re the one who started it,” Tim says sullenly. Jason looks up when he shifts in his chair, and frowns. Tim’s face is twisted and serious, and though he clutches the mug of coffee Jason’s made for him, he hasn’t taken a sip of it at all. He looks tired, not strictly unusual, but pale also.

Jason snaps his notebook shut and gives Tim his full attention. “I was just there last week for dinner,” he prompts. “Nobody mentioned anything abnormal.”

“Bruce thinks I’m being suspicious,” Tim admits, and Jason can tell that stings. “I think Dick is starting to come around, but he didn’t believe me at first either--” just a hint of bitterness, bygones of Dick’s Batman days--”and who the hell knows what Damian thinks. Cass agrees though,” he adds as if that’s all that matters. The two of them, through thick and thin.

“Have you been spending the night at the Mansion?” Jason asks, surprised. Since moving back in with Cass, he’d figured Tim, who had a bad habit of withdrawal, had been keeping mostly to himself. He made sure to keep his appointments, like his weekly coffee or brunch get together with Jason, but, when not patrolling, stayed holed up in his apartment.

It’s part of why Bruce approves the living arrangements--someone’s keeping an eye on him.

Tim shrugs. “Late patrols, working a case, Cass is in Hong Kong. Anyway,” he adds pointedly, like that’s not the point, “the point is, there’s something. It started in my old room and I think it’s moved to the sitting room.”

“Unhelpful,” Jason says. “There’s a million sitting rooms.”

Tim eyes him. “The only sitting room that matters. You know.”

Jason laughs. He does know, it’s essentially Tim’s sitting room at this point, though Jason favors it too when he comes to visit--it has the best natural light in the Manor, great for naps for someone like Tim, who, cat-like, seeks out sunny spots of solitude.

Tim still looks troubled though, and Jason sighs. “I’ll talk with the pastor,” he says. “And I’ll come by and bless the Manor.” He pauses, thoughtful, and adds, “That’d be a good thing to do anyway.”

“You think sprinkling some water will work?” Tim asks skeptically.

“Hey, you came to me,” Jason reminds him.

Tim chews on his lip. “How long?”

“Probably tomorrow,” Jason says. He’s torn--ordinarily he’d suggest confession for the sacramental graces, but only Bruce and Dick had ever been baptized Catholic (and Jason’s not even sure about Dick). Tim, neglected in more ways than one, has never been exposed much to religion outside of an academic context at all. And Damian...well he’s a special case.

Instead, Jason impulsively he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a Rosary. He drops it gently into Tim’s cupped hand, saying, “Here, take this.”

Tim stares down at it. “I don’t know what to do with it,” he admits.

Jason bites down on the suggestion that he ask Bruce--Tim would take it as a dismissal, even if Jason definitely doesn’t mean it that way. Instead, he starts, “The big bead is the Our Father, and then the next ones are the Hail Marys, see it’s a decade, and after ten Hail Marys comes the Glory Be and the Fatima Prayer.” He goes over each prayer with Tim, who is absorbing it all, and then sends him off with a reminder that Bruce, though rusty, knows all the prayers if Tim forgets.

Tim gives him a glare, knowing what Jason is half-suggesting, but he says, “Thanks,” softly and is on his way.

Jason comes by the Manor the next day, armed with a prayer book and holy water. The pastor has been called away for a hospital visit, and Dominic is on retreat with his middle schoolers, so Jason is left by himself.

Damian sniffs haughtily when he sees Jason. “I expected more tools for Drake’s exorcism,” he says.

“I’m not an exorcist,” Jason reminds him. It’s a conversation he’s had frequently with his brothers, who, after discovering the diocese exorcist is kept secret, have decided, firmly, that it must be Jason. “And no one would perform an exorcism here,” he adds for good measure.

Damian grumbles something and leaves just as Bruce comes into the foyer to greet Jason. Jason returns his hug, but eyes him disapprovingly. “You should know better than to dismiss Tim like that,” he says softly. “Especially over a spiritual matter. You’re not a skeptic.”

Bruce’s brow furrows, but he accepts the scolding.

“Okay,” Jason amends. “You’re a detective, so you question, but you’ve seen too much to doubt the reality of a demon.”

“That’s fair,” Bruce agrees.

Jason waits a beat, and then adds, “And he’s the one who always believed you were alive. He found you.”

Bruce nods in acknowledgement.  “Tim and I have already talked,” he says. There’s an implication Bruce apologized, and Jason is glad. He’s getting better at that. Jason’s always a little surprised when Bruce just listens to him these days.

Bruce’s mouth slants down, not quite a frown. “I’ve been worried about him, but I think seeing you yesterday helped. He seems...almost excited about the blessing. Intrigued.”

Jason’s lips quirk up. “He’ll be disappointed. This isn’t an exorcism, as I keep telling Damian.”

Bruce laughs a little. “Cassie will be back from Hong Kong soon, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you got a call from them to come bless the apartment.”

Jason shrugs. “I should’ve done it ages ago.”

“Well come in,” Bruce says, gesturing, but Jason says, “I think it’d be best to be thorough and start here.”

Bruce nods. “I’ll get Tim,” he says. “And round up the others.”

“Other than Damian?” Jason asks, and Bruce shrugs. “Dick has been in and out.”

He returns with Tim, no Dick or Damian, but he’s also brought along Alfred, who offers Jason a pat on the shoulder and water bottle; Jason accepts both gratefully.

Tim still looks pale, but he grins at Jason, who says, “We’ll lets get started. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit…”

They work their way methodically through the Manor, Jason finding prayer passages for rooms he didn’t even know still existed. (He realizes it’s a mansion but why does there have to be a ballroom? He mentally says an extra prayer there, thinking of children subjected to boredom at galas while adults hunt for iniquity in the name of charity; he says an extra prayer in the library as well because the smart asses of this house, himself included, could use some actual Wisdom sometimes). Damian joins them somewhere along the way, lurking behind them and acting disinterested, even though he’s definitely listening.

They pick up Dick along the way, too. Jason focuses on the prayers and the blessings, but it doesn’t escape his notice that Dick slips an arm around Tim and whispers something in his ear that makes Tim smile, even as he shushes him. He even crosses himself a few times, right to left, and Jason files that away because did he know Dick was raised Orthodox? (Eastern Rite, maybe? He definitely didn’t know.)

When they reach the sitting room, Tim flinches. There is a drastic drop in temperature, and even Jason shivers.  It’s not like Tim to be afraid, though, and he takes a few steps into the room after Jason, whispers, “It’s in here.”

Jason nods, and flips his book to pray the sitting room prayers, and, when done, sprinkles the holy water, three times, In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Then he’s done with that, and they continue. It’s a while before the whole Mansion is blessed, and Bruce even lets him bless the Cave, where he finally concludes, blessing his entire family, In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.

When he’s done, he takes a long drink of water from the bottle Alfred’s provided. He’s taken sips throughout the blessing, but the blessing has still left him thirst. He wants to catch Dick, gently suggest to him that Tim might still be harboring some hurt from Dick’s time as Batman, but before he can, Dick drags Tim off to the computer, and Bruce, brow furrowing suspiciously, follows him. Perhaps Dick realizes that, or maybe he just feels guilty about being dismissive of Tim initially. Jason doesn’t give his older brother enough credit, sometimes, but he does resolve to bring it up, along with Dick’s religious background, next time Dick stops by the rectory.

Alfred retreats too, to finish dinner, a pointed look at Jason that tells him he’s staying and will be returning with food for Dominic and his pastor. Jason smiles back, but before he realizes it, he’s alone with Damian, who, with arms crossed tightly against his chest, dog firmly at his side, clearly wants to talk. Jason waits.

“Could my grandfather--,” Damian starts, not looking at Jason.

“Maybe a curse or something,” Jason answers, shrugging. “It’s not unheard of. But,” he adds, gently, “the Manor is very old. There’s a lot of trauma here, too. I couldn’t say for sure where it may have come from.”  

He pauses, frowning at the boy, and then ventures, “You know your grandfather isn’t actually a demon, don’t you? He’s a man who’s prolonged his life artificially.”

“No,” Damian corrects. “The Lazarus Pit--,”

“I don’t mean through modern medication or anything like that,” Jason interrupts gently. “I just mean we’re not supposed to live that long. Death is natural. Immortality is not; he’s cheating death. It doesn’t matter what he calls himself, it doesn’t change the nature of what he is, and that’s a man and a mortal.”

“And a coward?” Damian asks, and Jason’s mouth twists. Whatever Damian might say, Ra’s Al Ghul is still his family.

“That’s not for me to decide,” he says quietly, finally. “But I would caution anyone about fearing death of the flesh more than death of the soul.”

Damian hums, then says, clipped, “Thank you, Todd,” and Jason breathes a sigh of relief that this conversation has gone better than the one they’d had last month regarding animals’ souls and whether or not they go to heaven.

Jason stays for dinner, and, as predicted, is plied with numerous tupperwares of food for him for the week and for Fr. Dominic and Fr. Paul, his pastor.

“The parishioners will think you don’t appreciate them,” he teases Alfred, as he accepts. Alfred sniffs a little and says that that is hardly his intent, but he returns Jason’s kiss on the cheek with a fond hand pat, and several more slices of bread.

Jason says his goodbyes, and Tim hops up, ostensibly to help him carry the tupperware to his car. When they’re outside, though, Tim says, earnestly, “Thanks for believing me, Jay.”

Jason catches his hand and squeezes it. “If it doesn’t go away, you know where to find me. We have a process.”

Tim’s eyes glint mischievously as he shakes his head and mutters “Catholics.”

“Hey,” Jason says, lightly, “if you’re jealous, it’s not too late to join us.”

Tim snorts, but when Jason tells him to bow his head, he does. Jason gives him another blessing. After he’s finished the Sign of the Cross, Jason snags Tim around the neck and rubs his knuckles against his hair.

“Hey!” Tim protests, batting at Jason’s hands and trying to wriggle away from the unexpected nougie attack. “I was trying to be reverent!”

“Aren’t we all, kid,” Jason laughs, releasing him. He gives him a little push towards the Manor. “Go get some sleep, Tim, you look like death.”

“Memento Mori,” Tim quips solemnly, rubbing at his head. He flashes Jason a grin, though, and heads back inside.

Jason stands for a minute beside his car, looking up at the Manor and the grounds sprawling behind it. It’s dark and imposing at night, but Jason knows the depth of warmth and love inside. It wells up inside him now, too, and says a little prayer of Thanksgiving, before returning home to the rectory.

[revolutionary-pirate]

TL; WR: Canon-era Lams sick fics about January 20th, 1778 and the days following are entirely plausible. Laurens didn’t work during the days following Hamilton and Gibbs’ arrival at Valley Forge and worked unusually sparingly until Hamilton returned to writing regularly on February 2nd. Gibbs, who isn’t an official aide and only occasionally writes letters for headquarters, wrote an unusually high number of letters (for him) during that time and might have been picking up Laurens’ slack for him. 

If you like very dense, highly informative, but debatably clear and probably boring and awful (but fascinating to me) data and statistics about all of the aides during this time frame for the sake of historical accuracy/potential accuracy from which one can draw various plausible conclusions, then the following is for you!

(skip to the bottom to see the vast amount of potential conclusions about the situation that I drew from the mass of data I collected if you don’t care about the nitty gritty and just want the various conjectures I developed out of incomplete information)

I got really curious as I was going through the Calendar of Washington’s Correspondance for my Meade research and ended up doing some obnoxiously tedious data compiling across a few platforms. We know that Hamilton and Gibbs arrived back at Valley Forge on January 20th. I discovered then that the only writing Laurens did from January 20th-February 2nd (which is about when Hamilton resumed his writing duties) was:

a letter to his father on the 23rd 

a really short message to his dad for Washington also on the 23rd

a translation of a letter written on the 20th that he didn’t receive and translate till some days later and wasn’t answered until the 26th (so it was probably translated between the 25th-26th)

the letter written on the 26th, mentioned above

a letter to his dad on the 28th, after which he left to attend the Continental Congress Camp Committee meetings with Washington

a copy of the Board of War instructions from the 31st that he could have done who knows when.

There were ~45 letters total written for Washington (so not including Laurens’ letters to his dad) by the aides during the 14 day period between Hamilton’s arrival and his return to regular duties (20th-2nd). According to the Calendar of Correspondance and some additional hunting on Founders, the breakdown looks something like this: 

Tilghman wrote 16 (despite also possibly attending the Continental Congress Camp Committee Meetings with Laurens and Washington)

Harrison 10.5 (Harrison and Fitzgerald share a letter)

Meade 5 (Left on the 31st to meet and escort Mrs. Washington)

Gibbs 4

Laurens 3-4

Fitzgerald 3.5 (Left on leave on February 1st bearing letters from Washington to deliver while away.)

Hamilton 2 

This was, obviously, a rather lax time at headquarters. ~45 letters written in total in 14 days is hardly a dozen more than the volume of letters Tilghman would write by himself in busier sets of two weeks. This is in part because the 29th-2nd were sparse in the letter department, potentially because of the Committee meetings and Washington’s absence from Valley Forge while attending them. Only 8 letters in total were written from the 29th-2nd. 3 from Harrison, 2 from Gibbs, 1 from Fitzgerald, 1 from Tilghman, and 1 from Hamilton. (Fitzgerald’s on the 29th, Harrison’s across the 30th-31st, Tilghman’s on the 30th, Gibbs’ both were on the 1st, and Hamilton’s was on the 2nd)

Gibbs’ contribution through all of this is somewhat striking. He only writes letters occasionally because he’s Captain of the Life Guard first and special aide-de-camp second. His handwriting generally only shows up about 2-4 times in an entire month if it shows up at all and probably only when everyone else is too busy and they need an extra pen. Two in one day for him is a rarity and he wrote both of the only letters written on the 1st. Since he was accompanying Hamilton on his mission, his absence from the calendar for November-January is explainable. But writing so many letters in a small span of time is unusual for him. Gibbs’ contributions were on the 20th, 22nd, and the 1st. (and one on the 3rd, which was one of only 3 letters written that day). Laurens didn’t contribute the 20th-22nd, 24th~25th, 27th, and was attending meetings the 28th and 29th and potentially ‘till the 31st. Washington was writing from Valley Forge on the 1st after ordering Meade to go out and meet Mrs. Washington the day before. Washington was writing from both Moore’s Hall and Valley Forge on the 31st, so they were probably back at camp that day. this means that, ~7 out of the ~11 days that Laurens was at headquarters during Hamilton’s ‘recovery’ period were spent not writing and doing other things instead. (Side note, He also didn’t contribute the 18th-19th). Laurens only writing/translating 3-4 letters for Washington in this time period is an irregularity for him because he usually writes twice that plus whatever extra letters he’s writing to his dad (but it can’t be dismissed that this was a lax time). Before you say that it’s not fair because he was attending committee meetings with Washington ~28th-31st so it’s not very representative of him against everyone else, factoring out the 8 letters that came out of headquarters during that time period and shortening the judging time frame, it’s still an unusually low amount for him and an unusual distribution amongst them. We only have concrete evidence that Laurens was at the Committee meetings because he wrote his father about Washington having him to attend them with him, but Tilghman was also absent from writing for almost the exact same amount of time that Laurens was (save a single letter Tilghman wrote himself). I hunted around in the financial series of the Washington Papers and found a bill written by Tilghman on the 2nd about the reimbursement to him of “money paid for the family” [x x], referring to the Military Family, and potentially in reference to money he paid for Laurens, himself, and whoever else was on the Committee Meeting trip with them (like Hamilton) a few miles out of camp for some days because Aides are required to be reimbursed for all of their travel expenses. This is the reasoning for my deduction that there is a chance that Tilghman was at that meeting as well. But, on the other hand, that money could have also been a reimbursement of money owed back to Tilghman since November. There is a line that Tilghman crossed out on the document where I can just make out “Whitemarsh” somewhere in there, which is where they were camped out in November and was while Gibbs, who was in charge of the cash, was gone. So it could really go either way. With no concrete evidence that says one way or the other, Tilghman was either there or he wasn’t. I don’t know that definitively as of yet. It’s just weird that he only wrote one letter during this time while Gibbs wrote several. Washington’s letter to the Continental Congress Camp Committee was written by Hamilton and read by the committee on the 29th [x]. It’s almost 13k words long. Washington made some corrections to it before taking it with him to present to the Committee 3 miles down the road at the Moore House. There are two unfinished drafts of it that Hamilton numbered 21 and 22 and that Washington had a hand in as well. Those numbers could either represent dates or numbers, it’s unclear. It’s also uncertain how long he spent working on this letter and how long it took him to write it but it contains 16 sections and details the reformation of the different war departments and the way that things are done. Days of work had to have gone into it and weeks of thought and collaboration into its development, and months of build up to it meaning that Hamilton’s absence from contributing to headquarters writing upon his return was probably a result of his work on this specific, incredibly-important letter in preparation for the Committee meeting (which he may have also attended).

Various Potential Conclusions that can be drawn about the Aides during the period of January 20th-February 2nd with the above Information (some situations more plausible than others):

Caleb Gibbs

Gibbs picked up Laurens’ slack while Laurens was helping Hamilton since he wrote on the days Laurens did not.

Gibbs was tasked with helping out at headquarters in Fitzgerald, Meade, Laurens*, Hamilton*, and Tilghman’s* absences.  (*Maybe Hamilton and/or Tilghman as well depending. Laurens also, depending on the day.)

“Gibbs has gotten out of writing letters since November so he should do it” “That’s not fair, What about Hamilton????” “He almost died, remember??? You were there.”

All of the Above, any combination of the above, or none of the above. Regardless, he was also sorting out all of the finances since November. Like reimbursing Tilghman $68 because being in charge of the headquarters finances was one of his jobs as Captain of the Life Guard. (Exciting, I know.)

John Laurens

Laurens was absent from writing because Hamilton was back.

Laurens was absent from writing the 18th-20th because Hamilton could be back any day now

Laurens was absent from writing because Hamilton was ill and needed to be watched over and only worked every few days or so so that he didn’t neglect his duties.

Laurens was absent because he was helping Hamilton with the Committee letter which led to Washington asking Laurens to go with him instead of Hamilton, who was just recently back and recovered from illness and should take a break now after putting all that effort into that letter.

““ ““ Washington asking both Laurens and Hamilton to go with him to the committee meetings. (He was often accompanied out of camp by at least 2+ aides, I’m pretty sure. Might need to look more into that, though)

Laurens was just doing other aide duties that weren’t writing for Washington because those exist and him not writing for several days isn’t entirely uncommon. It’s just Tilghman not writing for a few days that is uncommon.

Laurens was told to take a break from writing the 31st-2nd because Gibbs’s got it and there’re only a few letters to write anyway. 

Alexander Hamilton

The two numbered drafts were Hamilton’s failed attempts at doing work on January 21st and 22nd before Laurens discovered him and made him stop and go back to resting. Washington looked over the unfinished drafts anyway to provide his opinion/alterations on what was already there. This is an important document.

The numbers on the drafts aren’t dates, but something else.

Hamilton wasn’t sick at all because it’s more likely that he was pretty much fully recovered before he left his final sickbed in Peekskill.

Hamilton wrote the final draft of that letter in anywhere between 2 and 8 Days. 

Hamilton worked very closely at headquarters with an agitated Washington on that letter from the day of/after he got to Valley Forge until it was done.

Laurens may have served as the wall for Hamilton to bounce ideas off of while he was writing the Committee Letter.

Hamilton appeared healthy when he returned to camp but then relapsed by the end of the 22nd, hence the unfinished drafts, and was bed-ridden. Laurens indulged him and debated/discussed, in small doses, the topics that Hamilton would end up writing about fully in his letter to the committee in preparation for his actually sitting down and quickly writing it in just a few days once he was recovered enough to do so or could no longer delay doing so

Hamilton does the above and then retires to rest and fully recuperate. Laurens goes to the committee meeting and Hamilton does not, staying behind to stay in bed. When Laurens returns he goes to tend to him if he needs it until he fully recovers from the small relapse he got from overworking himself on the letter.

Hamilton goes to the meeting despite his relapsed health because it’s not a major relapse, just a minor one.

Is entirely healthy on completion of the letter and goes to the meeting

Hamilton going to Moore Hall for the meetings along with Laurens (and potentially Tilghman for a time) during the 28th-31st in combination with a lack of letters to write is why he didn’t resume his writing duties until the 2nd.

also potentially in combination with him being mildly sick again and having to recover a final time being why he didn’t resume his duties.

Caleb Gibbs being like “I got this, you just relax” and writing all the letters for the 1st because Hamilton wrote the committee letter and should take a break.

Hamilton’s absence from writing was him taking a break when he got back because he generally knows how to take care of himself and knows when it’s time for him to take a break, which is why he didn’t start writing any other letters until the 2nd after having to rush to complete the massive Committee letter sometime before the 28th.

“I just wrote 13k words so I’m not writing again for, like, a week.”

Harrison was the one that made Hamilton not work on anything until the 2nd, where Hamilton wrote the only letter for that day and got back to writing regularly from there on out.

See some of the options above in the John Laurens section for other alternatives

Tench Tilghman

Wrote 3 letters on the 27th, 3 letters on the 28th, no letters the 29th, 1 letter signed by his own name the 30th, no letters the 31st-2nd. (fact)

Didn’t go to the Committee Meetings

Went to two of the Committee Meetings before returning to camp

Was coincidentally sick and needed a break at the exact time the committee meetings were happening and for the exact same amount of time that Laurens and Hamilton were absent from writing as well (minus the one letter on the 30th).

Hamilton was actually sick, in the last stages of his recovery, and when the Committee meetings rolled around and he didn’t go, Tilghman volunteered to help him out in Laurens’ place.

Harrison made Tilghman take a break the 29th-2nd and told him that he and Gibbs would take care of it all, but didn’t stop him from writing the one letter on Washington’s behalf. Otherwise, Tilghman was just chillin’ and takin’ a break for several days because he usually doesn’t ever stop.

Robert Hanson Harrison

Was holding down the fort while everyone was gone.

Went to 28th-29th committee meetings because he often attended important meetings with Washington and was back by on the 29th because he wrote both letters for the 30th (probably not)

Didn’t go to any of the committee meetings at all because they were outside of camp and he was the one that usually ran headquarters during Washington’s absences from camp. (more likely)

Richard Kidder Meade

Left on the 31st to collect Mrs. Washington and escort her back to camp because Washington ordered him out as soon as he got word [x]. 

Went to the meetings (unlikely)

Didn’t go to the meetings (most likely)

Didn’t write letters the 28th-31st because there were pretty much no letters to write.

Might have been doing his numerous non-writing aide duties because him writing infrequently for Washington at headquarters was not uncommon in his case. It wasn’t his main duty to write letters.

Gibbs gave Meade $130 for the expenses of his Mrs. Washington trip and Meade returned $110 back him. [x the linked document says 1779 in the title, but this is an error. The document clearly states 1778] 

Meade was almost broke and needed money for the trip [actually somewhat likely]

Meade was not broke, it’s just that he spent $317 out of his own pocket for all of the family’s expenses in Gibbs’ stead back in October while Gibbs was with Hamilton on their mission [x] and Gibbs was like “I’m giving you money for this trip.” “No. I can handle it. You already paid me back.” “TAKE THE MONEY. IT’S MY JOB TO GIVE YOU MONEY FOR THIS SHIT.” “Okay but I'm giving back everything I don’t spend.”  -only spends $20 because Meade lives like he’s poor even when he has money and someone else paid for the return trip-

Gibbs gave him the money because they are supposed to reimburse all travel costs anyway, so why not jump the gun and give Meade the money to start with.

John Fitzgerald

Didn’t go to the meetings

Wrote the only letter on the 29th, which signed in his own name because Washington wasn’t there.

Left on leave the 1st with Washington’s letters for some people in Virginia to drop off while he was out [x]. Didn’t return until mid-May.

In General

The 28th-7th just didn’t have a lot of letters. It was a really ‘relaxed’ time and there weren’t a lot of letters to write in comparison to some other times so there was more free time to do other things and letters from headquarters could be taken care of by a couple people on their own and there was no significance to the distribution of letters at all and none of this matters.

It might have all been business as usual-just less of it.

I don't have a life.

Laurens definitely went to the meeting

Hamilton and Tilghman might have gone, Hamilton more likely than Tilghman.

Harrison and Meade probably didn’t go but there is a slim chance they might have

Gibbs and Fitzgerald definitely didn’t go

I am way too focused on that unimportant bit of information over who went and who didn’t, honestly.

I spent way too much time on this (like, 45+ hours)

Hamilton had an incredibly important letter to write between the 20th-28th regardless of how healthy he was when he started.

Laurens wrote fewer letters than he usually did and Gibbs wrote far more than he usually did.

So, there are a lot of different conjectures that one can make based on this incomplete data set and a variety of different ways that one can view said data and then piece it together to come to several different plausible conclusions/scenarios, but the most important one is:

Canon-era lams sick fics of Hamilton’s return on the 20th and the days following that are entirely plausible based on cold-hard data. And, Caleb Gibbs might have stepped in to write letters for Laurens so he could help/spend time with Hamilton with recovering and writing a 13k word long letter pass it on.

Of course, other situations are just as entirely plausible as that one and even that scenario has a wide variety of variables that can be applied to it based on the data, so take it as you will.

[keldae]

Sorand with V. :P

Ooooh, I get to poke around in an alt’s headspace! Thanks for the prompt, Nonny! :D I don’t get to play with Sorand nearly often enough…

So I’m making up for it and giving him another giant-long drabble.

V: An abandoned or empty place.

“My lord, we truly are honoured by your presence to our humble world.” The mayor of Syward, an elderly rotund man, was a chatty sort of individual, and apparently quite keen on gaining the ear or the friendship of Lord Kallig. “If it would not be too bold of me to inquire- what brings you to Lavisar? We have not had a Sith Lord grace us since Lord Maglion departed several years ago.”

“My reasons for visiting are private,” Sorand answered, his gaze hidden behind the mask of his ancestor that he wore. It probably wouldn’t do for him to be recognized as Sorand Taerich here when he was supposed to be dead with the rest of his family. “And I would appreciate your discretion with my visit.”

“Of course, my lord. You need only ask.” The mayor bowed. “Shall I send for an escort to lead you to the city, or accompany you myself?”

“No, thank you. I do not require an escort.” And truthfully, Sorand was getting sick of the man’s pandering. “The only thing I require is privacy.”

“.. yes, my lord.” The mayor tried to hide his disappointment from his face, and failed miserably. If Sorand had been any other Sith, he likely wouldn’t have ignored it. “Your associate has my contact information, should you require my services during your stay here.”

“Thank you. That will be all.” Sorand dismissed the man with a wave of his hand, and as soon as the old man had finally disappeared, turned back to his ship. “Are you ready, Talos?”

“Of course, my lord!” The archaeologist had, surprisingly, found common ground with his new Sith employer in their love of history, and had quickly become someone Sorand could almost call a friend. “The speeders are ready to go. I’ll follow you.”

“Good. Try not to get lost- there’s not a straight road outside of the city anywhere.” Sorand mounted his speeder, waited for confirmation that Talos was right on his tail, and then took off, bypassing Syward entirely and heading for the outskirts. He hadn’t set foot on Lavisar in over half a decade, nor breathed the air, nor left his footprint in the reddish dust, but that didn’t stop this planet from being home in a happier time.

The road looked like nobody had traveled it in years and had fallen into disrepair. Sorand gritted his teeth as he finally rounded the corner and parked his speeder in front of the rusty gate. “I don’t remember the road being quite that bad,” he grumbled as he dismounted, sounding less like a menacing, powerful Sith and more like the grouchy young adult that he was- barely out of his teens.

“Hardly a problem at all, my lord,” Talos cheerfully said as he parked beside Sorand. He looked to be in pain, but still presented his lord with a happy demeanor. “You should have seen some of the trails on Hoth. Only a taun-taun could have managed those, and even then, not terribly well.”

Sorand tightly smiled behind the mask at Talos’ attempt to lighten the mood. “I can believe it.” He turned back to the gate and studied the lock, easily disabling it with the Force and pushing the rusted durasteel bars back. A soft breeze came floating down to dance against his face as he removed his mask, his jaw set tightly as he recalled the last time he’d seen this path and this view.

You killed my mum! Let me go! Mum!

“My lord?” Sorand started when he heard Talos beside him. “Is everything all right?”

“As much as it can be,” the young Sith finally said as he started up the path, his feet remembering every step needed. Korin and I used to race each other down this path, he remembered with a small, sad smile. And when we got the gizka he’d chase us around. Mum would sit back and laugh until we found the dustiest area of the yard to play in…

Then he saw the house and froze. His childhood memories had always painted the building as intact and beautiful, with the old antique speeder around the side that Dad had enjoyed tinkering with when he was home, or Mum’s flowers growing up the side of the house despite Lavisar’s finicky climate. Now the gardens were nothing more than weeds, and the old speeder was a rusty, burned-out shell on the ground. The house itself… the damage doesn’t look bad from here, Sorand mused. And it really didn’t, if one ignored the broken windows, the weathered carbon scoring on the walls, and the boarded-up door, and the general air of neglect around the place. He stepped forward, his feet feeling like weights on his legs, and gently pried the boards away with the Force. The front door was still the shattered wreck that he remembered from years ago.

Take the boy.

What about the other one they’re supposed to have?

Capture or kill him, it makes no difference to me. I want both of their brats dealt with.

He coughed as he entered the home’s gaping front entry, dust stirring with every step. Mum would have had an aneurysm if she’d seen how badly this place was kept, was the first absent thought to come to mind, and it almost made him laugh. The sitting room to the left looked nothing like normal- couches flipped, tables turned over, Mum’s decorations shattered on the floor. To the right, Dad’s study for when he had to be formal and official. Sorand and Korin had never been allowed to see Dad’s visitors for that, and even Mum had tried to keep a low profile.

Further down the hallway. The kitchen was surprisingly intact, if smelling of dust and mold and food long inedible. Across the hall, the guest ‘fresher, and then Mum and Dad’s room. The nights that the two brothers had curled up on the large bed beside their mother when their father was away for work…

Now was when the carbon scoring on the walls became more pronounced. Some of the gashes in the walls were not round holes, but straight cuts that burned through the materials. He paused at one area of particularly concentrated scoring on the walls, knowing that this was where his mother had made her final stand in a futile effort to give her younger son time to flee.

You’re not taking my son! Sorand, run!

You’re a disgrace to this world, Jedi. You and your spawn are a blight to our name.

NO! MUM!

Down the hall a bit more. On the right, the two rooms that Korin and Sorand had slept in, connected by a door in the dividing wall. The Sith gently pushed open the door that had been his and looked inside, remembering what a ten-year-old boy had considered to be important. Books and datapads scattered across the bed- I was home sick and Mum was making me catch up on studying. A crudely-made replica of something that looked suspiciously like a Jedi holocron. Buildings and ships constructed from building blocks. An old map, printed on a paper-like material, pinned to the wall. Sorand had spent hours as a child studying the map of the galaxy and asking one of his parents for stories about the different worlds.

Clenching his jaw against the sudden lump in his throat he could feel, Sorand stepped away from the door and looked into Korin’s room instead. That was the disaster zone that every mother of a twelve-year-old had dreaded- clothes scattered all over the place, a handheld gaming system abandoned on the bed, replica ships and starfighters on the floor. A similar map to Sorand’s had also hung in Korin’s room, but this one had marks on it- circles, exclamation points, and tiny notes of “I’m gonna see this!” and “I want to see here!” Korin had always had a wanderlust to match Sorand’s need for stories and lore. It was probably why he’d skipped school to go find some sort of mischief around the spaceport that day.

Sorand crumpled to his knees inside the door, fighting to keep his grief for his brother silent. Talos, wisely, had stayed several paces away and was pretending to be very intrigued by one of the damaged paintings on the wall. The Sith pressed his fist against his mouth to keep his cries silent, but couldn’t stop the tears no matter how strong in the Force he was. Korin had been his best friend, his playmate, his confidante. And the raiders and Maglion had torn them apart.

Where’s my brother? Let me go! Mum! Korin!

It took several long minutes for Sorand to finally regain his feet and step out of Korin’s room, keeping his back to Talos as he continued down the hallway so the archaeologist wouldn’t see the tear tracks left on the Sith’s pale face. Two rooms left- the family ‘fresher (mostly so the boys wouldn’t mess up the nice ‘fresher Mum and Dad kept clean for their guests), and Dad’s office. That had been one area of the house the boys had never been allowed into, and Korin had been grounded for two weeks the one time he’d snuck inside anyway and Dad had caught him. For a long second, Sorand hesitated, the childhood fear of a severe scolding or some other punishment staying his hand.

Who’s going to punish you now? Mum died here and Dad was killed trying to rescue you. With a bitter snort of laughter, Sorand pressed his hand against the door. It was still locked, but he managed to short out the electricity and pick open the physical lock with the Force. Korriban’s training, while brutal, had taught him a lot.

Inside was almost anticlimactically disappointing. There was less dust here, which Sorand supposed made sense for how tightly secure the room had been. Dad had a secure storage locker in here- when Sorand bypassed the lock and opened it, he saw a surprising number of weapons. Wasn’t Dad a diplomat? Why did he have several blaster rifles and sniper rifles? And a ton of knives and explosives? Something in the bottom of the locker made him frown and kneel to investigate; the locker had a false bottom, one that Sorand was able to lift. His jaw dropped when he saw the relics hidden underneath. These look like Jedi datacrons! Why would Dad have Jedi relics here? He hummed in thought- Mum had had access to the office too, and she’d unveiled herself as a Jedi in the last minutes of her life. Were these hers? He gently touched one of the datacrons, watching it glow as he pressed his fingers against its textured surface, before withdrawing. His parents might have been dead and their home long abandoned, but it still felt wrong to take his mother’s possessions with him from this locked place.

Besides, these were obviously not Sith relics. Like Thanaton needed more of a reason to try and kill Sorand- having Jedi artifacts would just seal his fate.

Leaving the locker behind, Sorand crossed over to his father’s desk. The computer was still functional and powered, and the controls lit up as Sorand touched them. How does it still have power after being abandoned for so long? “What do the records say happened with this property?” he asked out loud, his voice too loud in the tomb-like silence of the house.

“Your father made it back here the day after your family was attacked, my lord. By all accounts, he only lingered long enough to give your mother a pyre, and then he took off to find any news of you or your brother.” Talos stood at the door to the office, his voice quiet and sombre. He knew of Sorand’s backstory and birth name- everyone on the ship did, and had been sworn to utter silence. “He reportedly never returned after giving the orders for the house to be closed up.”

“Did he buy a home somewhere else?” Sorand asked as he idly tapped at the computer controls. ACCESS DENIED flashed across the screen. That was something that Sorand’s abilities with the Force couldn’t get him around.

“Not that was listed in Imperial records, my lord.” Talos hesitated. “Considering your belief that Lord Maglion ordered the attack, it’s not impossible that your father could have defected to the Republic and relocated there. Or he may simply have lived on his ship while he was looking for you.”

“Hmmm.” Sorand had never really considered the possibility that his father had become a traitor to the Empire. If he’d knowingly married a Jedi, it was definitely possible that his father could have had Republic sympathies for years. That was another piece of information Sorand would keep to himself.

“My lord, if I may…” Talos entered the room and stepped to a corner that Sorand hadn’t yet visited. “I believe the dust here has been disturbed recently, and not by us. There’s far less dust or decay here, compared to the rest of the house.”

“There was no combat damage in here. Dad always kept this place locked up.”

“But to have what little dust there is in here mussed? And that computer active?” Talos frowned. “I’m no detective and would never last a day with Imperial Intelligence, but… I believe someone has been here recently, before us.”

“That’s impossible.” Sorand frowned as he examined the dust Talos had mentioned. “It looks like… a secret entrance, perhaps?” He knocked on the wall, then started running his hands over the flat surface until his fingers found the hairline cracks, too uniform to be natural decay. “But who could be in here?”

“You said there were only two people who ever had access to this room, my lord. Your mother is confirmed to be deceased, and your father seemed to be the type of individual to take every precaution with security. I doubt any regular explorer could have found their way in here, not without causing damage elsewhere in the house. Someone would have had to know about a secret entrance to be able to use it.”

Sorand turned to stare at Talos. “Are you suggesting my father might be alive?”

Talos shrugged. “It’s possible that he survived being shot, my lord. Stranger things have happened before. And if he’s Force-blind, you might not have been able to sense his death or survival. You were likely a traumatized child at the time.”

“That’s not wrong,” Sorand muttered as he frowned at the computer in thought. Memories raced through his mind faster than he could track- his brother’s cheeky grin at the window only hours before hell had struck, his mother’s scream as she’d been killed by Maglion’s lightsaber and the raiders’ blaster fire, his father’s body falling in a heap with a blaster mark over his chest. If Dad was wearing armour under his jacket…

He straightened, new hope stirring within his chest and a glint to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Let’s return to the ship, Talos. I’ve made my peace with what used to be my home- and I don’t think I’ll find any information on my father’s current whereabouts here.”

“Of course, my lord.” Talos straightened his shoulders as he followed Sorand back out of the room, taking care to close the door behind him.

[col22promo]

Bode Levy Bram Lindqvist | Twenty Eight;  Elite

House: Torren Status: Infected - Telepathy and Praeteria Elite Specification: Infection Trainer and International Trade Consultant Alignment: New Age Rebels

Astrid Lindqvist married her husband for the wrong reasons and her inability to leave him ruined her life. She was Wilhelm Lindqvist’s trophy wife, who married her mostly because he was bored. She in turn married him for his money—and they both did it because they had something to prove.

She was a good woman under her thick facade of minglers and gala events, but for all her lofty pretension and egotism, behind closed doors she was depressed and desperate. At best, her husband was extremely neglectful, and at worst he was cruel and emotionally abusive. But to divorce him would mean to leaving herself with nothing. Everything was in his name, as she’d married into his estate, and with a less than positive relationship with her own mother, she had nowhere to go and she just couldn’t fathom starting over from nothing. 

And so she kept pretending. She shrivelled and contorted into a woman she barely recognized anymore, her once shiny potential spiralling down the drain like washed out hair dye. She threw herself and her hopes into having children—which would have been a better venture had she been able to keep off the bottle. Unfortunately, she was an alcoholic and the fact that her first born actually survived, was something of a miracle, as he was four weeks premature. She was told she was very lucky he did not have fetal alcohol syndrome.

Bode Levy Bram, however (named after her father, her grandfather, and the older brother she’d lost to cancer while in her twenties) did suffer a birth defect, not uncommon for infants of his condition. He had what was called sensorineural hearing loss, which was a defect with his inner ear, caused by his premature birth.

Fortunately for them both, technology was such that he was diagnosed at an early age and fitted with a surgical implant that would serve as a necessary aid for the rest of his life. This implant would need to be tended to for maintenance every three to five years, but could be manually adjusted with dials behind the shell of his right ear. It was possible to turn them off as well, and though he was not completely deaf without them, when he was, the world developed a muffled, muddled quality, like he was submerged underwater, and doctors said it would be severely detrimental to his emotional and psychological development as a child, were they left off.

But because Bode was essentially Astrid’s “miracle child” and one of the few things that brought her joy in her lonely life, she became suffocatingly overprotective, even as Bode got older. She was well-meaning, but naive, too immature and unreliable to be a good role model. Bode’s father was a linguist and interpreter for a political branch of government and so he was absent the majority of Bode’s young life, frequently away on business, with little interest in keeping in touch with his son while he was away. Basically, he ignored his family unless it was convenient for him not to, and had multiple affairs over the years, many of which Bode was exposed to at a young age.

Bode’s brother, Espen, was born six years after him and though Astrid was sober at the time, he was still diagnosed with Haemophilia shortly after he was born. Despite the neglectful environment of the Lindqvist family home, Astrid was desperate to have another child before she was too old—with her marriage and life in shambles, she was trying to patch her wounds with children. However, about a year after Espen’s birth, she relapsed and was forced to go back into rehab when she almost died combining alcohol with sleeping pills. As a result, Astrid’s youngest son spent much of his younger years raised mostly by a nanny, and by his brother.

This is perhaps part of why the boys grew up to be so different. Bode’s parents enrolled him into a pretentious Catholic school that he hated, and in seeing so much of his parent’s abusive marriage when he was young, he grew up cynical, resentful and not believing in marriage as a constitution. Espen, on the other hand, grew up more of a dreamer—a softer boy, far more naive, and envious of Bode for how much more time he’d gotten with their mother growing up. But when he asked questions about her, his brother would be dismissive, saying that she was irresponsible and selfish, and that Espen was better off not knowing her as well as Bode did.

As a teenager, Bode was something of a deviant, feeling reckless and trapped in the toxic environment at home, not to mention overwhelmed by the responsibility of essentially being a guardian to his younger brother when he had hardly finished being a kid himself. Rarely wanting to go home, he spent a lot of nights out or crashing on friend’s places.

After high school, he studied business, which he hated, but when he flipped over to finances and accounting, he hated that even more. So he quit college entirely after his second year, and took up a job as an executive assistant at his long-time friend’s business. He didn’t love the work, by any means, but he saw it as temporary and he got to boss people around, which he appreciated.

Meanwhile, he put the rest of his energy into making sure his brother didn’t wind up like him—angry, resentful and directionless. He got an apartment in a different neighbourhood where he and his brother could live, and made sure he was enrolled in a good public school. Removing a fourteen year old Espen from his parent’s house wasn’t an easy task—his mother fought Bode on it, but as she was still back and forth between home, rehab and the hospital, and Wil Lindqvist was still a cheating, abusive son of a bitch, Bode was able to convince her it was for the best. Consequently, for the second time in Espen’s life, Bode was more of a parent to him than either of their parents ever were.

Bode Today

After D-Day, Bode spent about a year in a clan in Sweden with his brother. They were never able to get in touch with either of their parents, a fact about which Espen was more bothered by than Bode. In the early stages of the first wave of Infections, Espen developed telepathy and Bode became a complete anomaly—a Telepath and a Praeteric.

When they were both picked up by Crusaders in 2158, still before the rise of the NWRF, they spent a couple years in Colony 8, where Bode became an Infection Trainer almost right away, and eventually, an International Trade Representative. Before D-Day, he’d already spoken English, Danish and Swedish at home, and due to his father’s heavy handed suggestion, he’d taken a lot of language studies in high school and his undergrad, so he spoke a bit of Portuguese, Italian, Norwegian and French. With his ability to translate and his background in business and finance, he was a perfect candidate for what the Colony Trade market needed. 

His job was to aid in coordinating and facilitating the fair trading of resources between colonies around the world, and so he worked closely with Trade and Marine Merchants, as well as other Colony officials. Just a few months ago, he was asked by Officials to transfer to another location in need of an I.T.R, as Colony 8 was more central and had more nearby Reps. He agreed, on the condition that he could take his brother, and that he would be transferring to a Colony at least equally as safe.

Bode and his brother have been at Colony 22 less than three months. He is still cynical, opinionated and a bit abrasive, but his relationship with his brother is everything to him. He hates the NWRF, but is concerned that any radical involvement on his behalf would be too risky for his brother, so he aligns himself instead with the NAR and has hopes to lead a political party of some kind.

Bode can be hot headed and defensive at times, and definitely arrogant. His many years of pretentious schooling and business experience can make him either frustratingly charming or infuriatingly conceited, depending perhaps on your sense of humour and your level of patience with such things. He does, however, know how to talk his way out of an argument in a way that leaves the other person knowing they’ve been manipulated, but not being able to do a thing about it. Espen, on the other hand, brings out quite a different side of Bode—with him, he is warmer, and more playful, while also stern and protective.

The implants in his ears lately have been causing him grief—they are greatly overdue for an upgrade, and consequently are intermittent at times. Sometimes they wake him in the middle of the night with a painful ringing sound in his head. They also now have a constant, subtle ringing drone on a regular basis (much like symptoms of Tinnitus), which isn’t loud or painful, but is definitely annoying. And even though he can sometimes tune it out, it does cause hearing problems in conversation and for smaller, quieter sounds. This affects his ability to perform in the Games, and in some training activities, especially with the headaches it often causes him.

As such, he has an unlikely interest in the weekly testing he has to undergo, as he can’t help but hope that there might be a way to take the Increased Senses infection and turn it into a bottled cure for himself. And as for short-term solutions, he has to see if he can find a surgical doctor either here or at another Colony, who has the experience and resources to tend to his implants within the next year or so, before they stop working entirely.

RELATED BIOS: ESPEN FILIP LINDQVIST

HOME | PLOT | SURVIVORS | INFECTIONS | 2157 was the end of the world.

[the-colony-roleplay]

Bode Levy Bram Lindqvist | Twenty Eight;  Elite

House: Torren Status: Infected - Telepathy and Praeteria Elite Specification: Infection Trainer and International Trade Consultant Alignment: New Age Rebels

Astrid Lindqvist married her husband for the wrong reasons and her inability to leave him ruined her life. She was Wilhelm Lindqvist’s trophy wife, who married her mostly because he was bored. She in turn married him for his money—and they both did it because they had something to prove.

She was a good woman under her thick facade of minglers and gala events, but for all her lofty pretension and egotism, behind closed doors she was depressed and desperate. At best, her husband was extremely neglectful, and at worst he was cruel and emotionally abusive. But to divorce him would mean to leaving herself with nothing. Everything was in his name, as she’d married into his estate, and with a less than positive relationship with her own mother, she had nowhere to go and she just couldn’t fathom starting over from nothing. 

And so she kept pretending. She shrivelled and contorted into a woman she barely recognized anymore, her once shiny potential spiralling down the drain like washed out hair dye. She threw herself and her hopes into having children—which would have been a better venture had she been able to keep off the bottle. Unfortunately, she was an alcoholic and the fact that her first born actually survived, was something of a miracle, as he was four weeks premature. She was told she was very lucky he did not have fetal alcohol syndrome.

Bode Levy Bram, however (named after her father, her grandfather, and the older brother she’d lost to cancer while in her twenties) did suffer a birth defect, not uncommon for infants of his condition. He had what was called sensorineural hearing loss, which was a defect with his inner ear, caused by his premature birth.

Fortunately for them both, technology was such that he was diagnosed at an early age and fitted with a surgical implant that would serve as a necessary aid for the rest of his life. This implant would need to be tended to for maintenance every three to five years, but could be manually adjusted with dials behind the shell of his right ear. It was possible to turn them off as well, and though he was not completely deaf without them, when he was, the world developed a muffled, muddled quality, like he was submerged underwater, and doctors said it would be severely detrimental to his emotional and psychological development as a child, were they left off.

But because Bode was essentially Astrid’s “miracle child” and one of the few things that brought her joy in her lonely life, she became suffocatingly overprotective, even as Bode got older. She was well-meaning, but naive, too immature and unreliable to be a good role model. Bode’s father was a linguist and interpreter for a political branch of government and so he was absent the majority of Bode’s young life, frequently away on business, with little interest in keeping in touch with his son while he was away. Basically, he ignored his family unless it was convenient for him not to, and had multiple affairs over the years, many of which Bode was exposed to at a young age.

Bode’s brother, Espen, was born six years after him and though Astrid was sober at the time, he was still diagnosed with Haemophilia shortly after he was born. Despite the neglectful environment of the Lindqvist family home, Astrid was desperate to have another child before she was too old—with her marriage and life in shambles, she was trying to patch her wounds with children. However, about a year after Espen’s birth, she relapsed and was forced to go back into rehab when she almost died combining alcohol with sleeping pills. As a result, Astrid’s youngest son spent much of his younger years raised mostly by a nanny, and by his brother.

This is perhaps part of why the boys grew up to be so different. Bode’s parents enrolled him into a pretentious Catholic school that he hated, and in seeing so much of his parent’s abusive marriage when he was young, he grew up cynical, resentful and not believing in marriage as a constitution. Espen, on the other hand, grew up more of a dreamer—a softer boy, far more naive, and envious of Bode for how much more time he’d gotten with their mother growing up. But when he asked questions about her, his brother would be dismissive, saying that she was irresponsible and selfish, and that Espen was better off not knowing her as well as Bode did.

As a teenager, Bode was something of a deviant, feeling reckless and trapped in the toxic environment at home, not to mention overwhelmed by the responsibility of essentially being a guardian to his younger brother when he had hardly finished being a kid himself. Rarely wanting to go home, he spent a lot of nights out or crashing on friend’s places.

After high school, he studied business, which he hated, but when he flipped over to finances and accounting, he hated that even more. So he quit college entirely after his second year, and took up a job as an executive assistant at his long-time friend’s business. He didn’t love the work, by any means, but he saw it as temporary and he got to boss people around, which he appreciated.

Meanwhile, he put the rest of his energy into making sure his brother didn’t wind up like him—angry, resentful and directionless. He got an apartment in a different neighbourhood where he and his brother could live, and made sure he was enrolled in a good public school. Removing a fourteen year old Espen from his parent’s house wasn’t an easy task—his mother fought Bode on it, but as she was still back and forth between home, rehab and the hospital, and Wil Lindqvist was still a cheating, abusive son of a bitch, Bode was able to convince her it was for the best. Consequently, for the second time in Espen’s life, Bode was more of a parent to him than either of their parents ever were.

Bode Today

After D-Day, Bode spent about a year in a clan in Sweden with his brother. They were never able to get in touch with either of their parents, a fact about which Espen was more bothered by than Bode. In the early stages of the first wave of Infections, Espen developed telepathy and Bode became a complete anomaly—a Telepath and a Praeteric.

When they were both picked up by Crusaders in 2158, still before the rise of the NWRF, they spent a couple years in Colony 8, where Bode became an Infection Trainer almost right away, and eventually, an International Trade Representative. Before D-Day, he’d already spoken English, Danish and Swedish at home, and due to his father’s heavy handed suggestion, he’d taken a lot of language studies in high school and his undergrad, so he spoke a bit of Portuguese, Italian, Norwegian and French. With his ability to translate and his background in business and finance, he was a perfect candidate for what the Colony Trade market needed. 

His job was to aid in coordinating and facilitating the fair trading of resources between colonies around the world, and so he worked closely with Trade and Marine Merchants, as well as other Colony officials. Just a few months ago, he was asked by Officials to transfer to another location in need of an I.T.R, as Colony 8 was more central and had more nearby Reps. He agreed, on the condition that he could take his brother, and that he would be transferring to a Colony at least equally as safe.

Bode and his brother have been at Colony 22 less than three months. He is still cynical, opinionated and a bit abrasive, but his relationship with his brother is everything to him. He hates the NWRF, but is concerned that any radical involvement on his behalf would be too risky for his brother, so he aligns himself instead with the NAR and has hopes to lead a political party of some kind.

Bode can be hot headed and defensive at times, and definitely arrogant. His many years of pretentious schooling and business experience can make him either frustratingly charming or infuriatingly conceited, depending perhaps on your sense of humour and your level of patience with such things. He does, however, know how to talk his way out of an argument in a way that leaves the other person knowing they’ve been manipulated, but not being able to do a thing about it. Espen, on the other hand, brings out quite a different side of Bode—with him, he is warmer, and more playful, while also stern and protective.

The implants in his ears lately have been causing him grief—they are greatly overdue for an upgrade, and consequently are intermittent at times. Sometimes they wake him in the middle of the night with a painful ringing sound in his head. They also now have a constant, subtle ringing drone on a regular basis (much like symptoms of Tinnitus), which isn’t loud or painful, but is definitely annoying. And even though he can sometimes tune it out, it does cause hearing problems in conversation and for smaller, quieter sounds. This affects his ability to perform in the Games, and in some training activities, especially with the headaches it often causes him.

As such, he has an unlikely interest in the weekly testing he has to undergo, as he can’t help but hope that there might be a way to take the Increased Senses infection and turn it into a bottled cure for himself. And as for short-term solutions, he has to see if he can find a surgical doctor either here or at another Colony, who has the experience and resources to tend to his implants within the next year or so, before they stop working entirely.

RELATED BIOS: ESPEN FILIP LINDQVIST

TAKEN

[kheviiiin-blog]

Bizarre Journey of Mine

One sunny morning when ken woke up by his mother Celestine. He was asked by his mother to prepare for school. Ken has a little sister named kikay. Their fathers name is berhillio. He and his little sister we’re studying at SPXI. He is grade 11 and kikay is grade 9. After eating their breakfast they prepared there selves for school ken just got to school and he already know what section he is. He has already many friends and he has new adviser named Mrs. Minchin D. Yes yes. Her adviser is kind and so cool. He has a friend named Joka. They are partners in crime they are always with each other in good times and bad times.

Ken has been hardworking student in his first day as grade 11 and he finishes every assigned work by all his teacher and pass it always on time on that first day ,he always comes early in their home. He's so jolly and funny. But after few months ,ken slightly got lazy in his study. He was late passing his projects . He is no assignments sometimes. He even skips classes or sometimes he's wasting his whole day class hour in the computer shop he is playing online games instead of studying. Whenever ken is with his friends he often goes home very late and sometimes every down. They stroll around their town every weekends instead of studying. Sometimes he go home drunk because of the influence of his friends. When tomorrow comes ken will go to school. He is late as always. While he is walking to school he saw joka that walking to school too. He call joka's name so that joka goes to ken. They talk about online games and they choose to play games rather than going to school. All day ,they are just playing online games in computer shop, after that they got home, when they just home Ken’s mother get mad of because Ken’s little sister told that Ken didn’t go to school. On that day ken go somewhere and got only go home when 3 am at the morning. One night ken has invited by a friend in their house because his friend that day is celebrating his birthday. They all drunk and suddenly they are in trouble. After that he got home and rest.

It was a sunny morning and it’s parents day ken gets mad because his grades is falls down because he neglect his subject because he put first playing online game’s. When he go home his mother get mad at him because of the results of his grades . He scolded by her mother he go outside and walk around that far from there house then suddenly her mother was much angry. When tomorrow comes ,before he goes to school he was thinking about that he is doing wrong. When he got to SPXI he is working hard to be able to graduate . He is always doing his homework and he always passes his projects as always. He don’t even have absent because of the online games and become a hardworking student. After few months Ken became a grade 12 student of SPXI. Ken is very confident to his self even that just a first day in school . Ken change a lot. He is not late everyday unlike before. He don’t even playing online games in computer shop anymore. He is changing and he want to proof it from his parents so that he can able to graduate and take back his parents sacrifice.