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ieatmypizzawithaforkandknife · 4 years

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MAG 022 - Colony

Summary: Martin Blackwood dictates his statement regarding “a close encounter with something I believe to have once been Jane Prentiss.”

So can we all agree that Martin is the most adorable person ever and needs to be protected at all costs? Because within the first minute of this episode he was firmly placed in the Smol Bean category of my brain, and there he shall forever be. I am quite certain I will end up crying about this man at some point.

I’m really glad I listened to this episode again after finishing the season, because even in the short time between this episode and the season finale, so much of my opinions on Jonathan himself and on the relationship between Jonathan and Martin have changed. I know, this episode was about Martin - but it was also the first time we actually got to see these two characters interact, as opposed to Jonathan just making offhand comments about Martin’s supposedly subpar work. (Poor Martin. Mean Jonathan.)

I love how Martin says, “I just want to make a statement about what happened to me. I mean...it’s what we do!” and Jonathan’s immediate reply is, “No, what we do is research statements - usually those made by liars and the mentally unwell.” His tone holds its usual amount of derision, but after listening to the last few episodes of S1, I can’t find it in myself to hold it against him anymore. (I never claimed to be good at reading people.) Towards the end of the episode, Jonathan tells Martin he can sleep in the Archive, basically doing what I think was the Jonathan version of reassuring him, by telling him how safe it is. His tone isn’t reassuring - it’s very factual, as he lists off all the different ways the Institute is a safe place and by telling Martin he’ll ask Elias about adding some extra security. But if Jonathan were just trying to get Martin to sleep there so he wouldn’t lose a research assistant, he probably could’ve just told Martin to stay there and Martin would’ve listened. He seems to care about Martin in a way that isn’t shown in his offhand remarks in previous episodes. And while there’s a slight admonishment when he says, “No, what we do is research statements”, it smacks more of a concerned admonishment than an angry one to me. Conclusion: Jonathan is, as always, terrible with people, but not because he doesn’t care.

I’m also wondering how much of the “No, what we do is research statements” line was Jonathan and how much was Elias. It reminded me of what Jonathan said when he was contemplating bringing up the Leitner situation to Elias in episode 17: “I know he’ll just give me the old “record and study, not interfere or contain” speech again”. In particular, the word “again” indicates it’s something they’ve butted heads on before. It’s interesting that in this episode Jonathan seems to take Elias’ position on the issue. It could be that he’s just trying to be responsible in a general sense and that he doesn’t want to be liable if anything happens to Martin. But, taken with what I said in the previous paragraph, it could also be read as “I’d like to discourage this man from further endangering himself in the future because I care about him and I cannot/do not know how to express this directly, so I will hide behind what my own boss has told me many times.”

On the subject of Martin himself - I don’t think I can properly express how much I already love this adorable, nervous man. There were just so many great lines from him in this episode, whether for characterization or for humor - and often it was both. The long beat of silence after “Well, I need to tell someone what happened, and you can vouch for the soundness of my mind, can’t you?” Also: “Look, I know you hate the word, but it was really…spooky.” And “I was heading home when I got to thinking, and…I was worried I hadn’t really done enough investigation for you”. And “I’ve catalogued and looked into enough of these cases to know that following the noise is always a really, really bad idea, but…I mean…it’s my job, isn’t it?” And finally, at the very end when Jonathan offers him a place to stay at the Archive, he’s so flustered, both at the offer and at the very idea that Jonathan believes him. He’s basically tripping over himself and cringing as he gives his own statement, so hung up on the idea that he won’t be believed or that this isn’t enough.

And who can blame him? If you really think about what happened to him...I can’t blame him for thinking he wouldn’t be believed or that no one would be concerned for his safety. From his perspective, he just spent thirteen days alone in his apartment with no electricity, no company, no way to communicate with the outside world - and, to his knowledge, not a single person checked up on him! Obviously that was a good thing, because if someone had come to his door, they would have been met with Jane Prentiss - but Martin went for almost two weeks without a single good night’s sleep, eating ready meals and canned food, being constantly startled by her knocking, and he had to have wondered, at least once, why no one even wondered where he was.

One key to Martin’s survival was that he had plenty of water: “Luckily there was no problem with my water supply, so I had plenty to drink. I’m just glad none of them thought to come up through the pipes.” I genuinely can’t tell if Jonny’s hanging a lampshade on the issue or if we’re supposed to wonder why the worms never came up through the pipes, but in any case I am wondering it. Another key to his survival is that, despite not having a peephole, Martin somehow knew when she’d gone - and he wasn’t entirely sure how he knew. He surmises that the musty smell surrounding her must have been gone, and he didn’t hear any knocking for a little while, but in the end he has to confirm her absence by simply opening his door - which, if he were wrong, would have led to certain death - or, as he says at one point, “worse”.

Another mystery to me is when Martin goes into the basement of the building on Boothby Rd the first time and this happens: “I didn’t like the way my shadow moved. The light from the window behind me cast it pretty clearly on the floor, and looking at it I swear the edges seemed to move…it’s was like a, like an undulation…like, like they were being shifted by something.” He doesn’t follow this up with “and then I noticed my ‘shadow’ was actually worms on the floor”, so this doesn’t seem like a Jane Prentiss thing to me, or a Carlos Vittery’s spider thing either. And if it isn’t associated with either of the two known Boothby Rd-related entities, then it was something else entirely, which has me worried. But that’s the only mention of anything like a shadow being “shifted” in this episode, so for now I’m hoping I’m just reading too much into things.

There were so many excellent visual descriptions in this episode, so kudos to Jonny as always, and in this case kudos also to Alex for the performance. Martin describes the Jane Prentiss worms as “maybe an inch long, with a silver segmented body that goes black at one end, almost like it’s been burned.” This could just be a general creepy description, but I would be remiss if I didn’t point out the “burning” imagery here, given all the times fire and burning have come up before, even though I’m not sure what specifically it might be connected to from previous episodes. More concrete, though, is the difference between Jane Prentiss’ clothing when Martin encounters her and what she was wearing in her first appearance in episode 6. Harriett Lee, her victim in that episode, told Timothy Hodge, the man who gave the statement, that she found Prentiss wearing a long red dress. By contrast, Martin finds her in the basement wearing “a threadbare grey overcoat, though beneath it her legs were bare” (so, she’s no longer wearing the long red dress) and holding “a stained green handkerchief.” The events of episode 6 occurred in late November 2014 - almost a year and a half before Martin’s encounter with her. So why was she still in that area after all that time? We know she isn’t physically unable to leave - she follows Martin all the way to his home in Stockwell. And where did she get the overcoat and the handkerchief? I’m assuming it came from another victim, though she could have stolen them I guess. As far as we know they never did follow up with Timothy Hodge, despite Jonathan noting in that episode that they probably should. Jonathan also hasn’t mentioned looking into missing persons reports from the area either, even though that seems to me like an obvious thing to investigate.

Speaking of investigating...my ears perked up when the owner of the building told Martin that Carlos’ cat now lives with the Sanderson couple in apartment 2. I immediately flashed back to episode 15 and Laura Popham’s missing (presumably dead) sister, Elena Sanderson. (I remembered the name because of the Sanderson sisters, of course. #90schild) I don’t think it’s an actual connection, though, for two reasons: First, it doesn’t fit the timeline. Elena went missing in June 2014, and this Sanderson couple apparently still lives in this building in early 2016. It could be a relative, or maybe she magically reappeared, but I don’t see any specific reason to think either of those things. Second, there are something like 20,000 people with that surname living in England (yay genealogy websites). If it were a less common name, I’d be more suspicious, but as it stands now I’m keeping it in mind but leaning towards it being a coincidence.

Some final thoughts on Jane Prentiss. She apparently “called herself to be a practicing witch and believed [herself] to be infected by a dangerous, unknown parasite.” This is the first time the word “witch” is mentioned in the show (unless you’re counting Julia Montauk going to see The Witches in episode 9 lol), but not the first time we have seen something, or someone, witch-like. There are almost too many examples of things that could be considered “magic” to list, but the ones that stand out to me the most as potentially witch-like are: Mary Key being alive and the bones falling out of the books in episode 4; Agnes Montague/Fielding/whatever her name is and her apparent agelessness in episode 8; Robert Montauk’s heart ritual in the shed in episode 11; the unnamed man’s chanting in the hospital in episode 12; and Angela in episode 14. I’m not sure how any of these might be connected, but now that the word’s been mentioned I’m considering it a possibility.

And lastly...“Keep him. We have had our fun. He will want to see it when the archivist’s crimson fate arrives.” Jonathan’s voice when he read that last part, man. Martin asks what it means, and he sounds genuine, but Jonathan...I think Jonathan was thinking the same thing I am: that “the archivist’s crimson fate” sounds an awful lot like the description of Gertrude Robinson’s death as foretold in the dream from episode 11, particularly in the description of the Institute: “It was this building into which all the veins flowed: every door, every window was solid with them. When the bursts of red light passed into it, the whole building glowed crimson.”

This post is part of a series where I write my thoughts about each episode and obsessively connect dots in an effort to figure out The Big Mysteries of the series. All posts in this series are tagged “is this liveblogging?” Comments and messages are welcome but I have only listened to season 1, so I ask that you not spoil me for anything beyond episode 40. In the words of Jonny Sims…thanks for listening!

Minor spoilers for a later episode in S1 after the cut.

Just have to take a moment to freak out about the fact that I completely forgot about Martin’s description of Jane Prentiss’ skin as “full of holes - deep, black holes just honeycombing every bit of flesh like a…wasps’ nest.” HOW DID I NOT NOTICE THAT HE USED THE EXACT SAME WORDS SHE DID IN HER STATEMENT. Like, I don’t know if it’s significant, or if the description just fit so well that Jonny wanted to reuse it, but...damn.

#personal #liveblogging #is this liveblogging?#The Magnus Archives #how do I always end up writing BOOKS #I thought this one was gonna be shorter too #also I'm officially switching over to Gerard instead of Jared even though I still don't think that's what it sounds like at all #it bugs me

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tearosesarts · 4 years

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Hello there, I hope you have a great day! Also what are you thoughts about Tim Burton - Sweeney Todd’s movie adaptation? (Sorry thats pretty nowhere I just really appreciate u & Sweeney Todd very much 🥺💖)

Aww, thanks! Now, as for the 2007 Sweeney Todd... I hope I don’t get a lot of hate over this, but I had a lot of problems with this movie. I’ll try to go through this in organized chunks. I’ll put it under the cut, this is going to get long.

First off: the casting. We have to address the fact that, besides the actress playing Lucy, none of the cast really had any musical theatre experience, and it showed. This wouldn’t be as much of a problem if it weren’t for the fact that this was Sondheim music, which is insanely difficult, even for well-experienced musical theatre actors. Thus, we ended up with Sweeney awkwardly singing from his throat (sounding more like a pirate than Jack Sparrow) and frail, shrill vocals from Mrs. Lovett, Johanna, and Anthony. One justification that I’ve seen people use is “Well, Tim Burton was making a film, not a musical,” but in that case, why even include the music? Why not simply make a non-musical movie adaptation using those characters? Sweeney Todd has existed for far longer than the musical; the musical itself is based off of a play adaptation by Christopher Bond. It could have very easily been a movie adaptation of that play, instead. Moving past the singing, while this film did have a lot of really good actors, it wasn’t really any of their best works. I don’t know if it’s because of Tim Burton’s “style” or what, but a lot of the actors’ performances felt nearly lifeless compared to when they were in other movies (although Timothy Spall’s facial expressions as the Beadle were great!). Particularly, Helena Bonham Carter’s Lovett felt very flat and static. I feel bad for saying so, since this was apparently a dreamrole of hers (plus it was just her birthday yesterday!), but something about it just didn’t work. It seemed like she was torn between playing a doe-eyed damsel in distress, a jaded, sarcastic woman, and a suave, devious temptress (and being motherly for one scene, and the combination made for a bland and inconsistent performance. The inconsistency especially stands out during and after Epiphany, where she goes from looking quite terrified of Sweeney at the beginning to nonchalantly delivering the “That’s all very well...” line, even though the song got more scary towards the end, not less.

Now for what probably bugged me even more: some of the things that were cut. The film seems like it’s trying to be more edgy and gritty than the stage musical by cutting out some of the humor, but it also cuts out some of the darkest parts of the show. I can understand getting rid of the Greek chorus for the different Ballads of Sweeney Todd, but they really could have and should have included the ensemble bits for God, That’s Good. We can see the townspeople enjoying the pies, but it isn’t enough to see them simply enjoying the pies, we need them to be obsessed, screaming for “more hot pies.” Then there’s Toby, who doesn’t get his crazy part at the end. I understand cutting that bit short since we don’t have the final Ballad to end it (and therefore ending with the shot of Sweeney bleeding over his dead wife), but he could still do the creepy “pat-a-cake” stuff before slitting Sweeney’s throat and scuttling away. Besides creeping out the audience, this bit shows how everything has affected Toby and taken a toll on him.

And then there’s Johanna. Johanna, what did they do to you? Sometimes movie adaptations of musicals add some depth to some of the less-developed characters. Here, they seemed to do the opposite. She sings Green Finch and Linnet Bird, looks at Anthony, and after that only exists because the plot calls for her. Kiss Me is cut, which also cuts an entire plot point. She doesn’t even sing in the Johanna Reprise. It’s called the Johanna Quartet on the OBC album for a reason, guys! They not only reduced her to a prop who sings about her emotions once and no more, but her relationship with Anthony was also less developed. The two of them never really meet, they just look at each other once. That’s barely an interaction. It’s a wonder that she even recognizes him when he rescues her from the asylum. Speaking of, next came the thing that bothered me the most: she isn’t even the one to shoot Fogg (or whatever they named the asylum warden in this). In the musical, this was her moment of finally holding her own against one of the older male oppressors in her life. This was her breaking point, her loss of innocence she may not have even had in the first place. Changing this just felt wrong.

Alright, I’ve done enough ranting. There were a few things that I thought the film did pretty well, actually. Firstly, the cinematography. Tim Burton has a very specific aesthetic to his films, and this was no different. Some people like, it, others don’t, but the dark, muted aesthetic did work, in a way that may not have worked if another director did it. The opening sequence with an instrumental of the Ballad of Sweeney Todd playing looked really cool. I also especially liked the visuals during Epiphany, when Sweeney is outside having a mental breakdown as the crowds of townsfolk are completely unaware of his presence. While I didn’t care for his singing, Johnny Depp’s acting was pretty solid here. Sacha Baron Cohen as Pirelli was fun. The kid playing Toby had a good performance. I’m not usually a huge fan of children singing, but he handled the score well. Another thing I liked was the addition of the scene between Anthony and Turpin. It added an extra layer of vicious cruelty to the Judge that was more than just “creepy old guy preying after a teenage girl” (and the “You gandered at her” line was great, especially with Alan Rickman’s delivery).

All in all, I wasn’t really a fan of this adaptation, but there were some parts I did enjoy, and I appreciate that it did expose more people to Sondheim’s music and musicals in general.

#asks #art-byfatigue #my opinions #sweeney todd

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cdelphiki · 5 years

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Life With The Kents AU: Tim’s Life, pt 1, rough draft.

Someone asked me to write Tim and Bruce making up, and I told them no because it would be too long, then promptly wrote the first 2k words of that fic. Enjoy!

The first thing Tim did was change his name.

He’d always kind of hated himself, anyway, for changing it to Tim Wayne, back when Bruce adopted him. It had been the reason for one of his breakdowns, after all. Tim Wayne.

Just sounded wrong.

His lawyer had looked more than mildly alarmed, when Tim met with him the following Monday. The bruise on his face had fully blossomed by then, having two days to do so. Deep purple right at the jawline, right where Bruce’s knuckle had hit, softening out to lighter purple and greens, the further away from the center one looked.

It was clearly a fist print, too.

And it took up a good fourth of his face.

“Mr. Drake,” his lawyer, Esteban, had said, “if- if Mr. Wayne…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tim had said. He had purposely not covered the bruise in anticipation of this meeting. He knew what image it would broadcast. And he didn’t care. It would help his case, make his lawyer more sympathetic, mean there was no argument over the decision. Removing ‘Wayne’ from your name in Gotham, after all, was not something anyone had ever done.

Wayne was a powerful name. Even more powerful when Bruce Wayne himself had given it to you.

But Tim was done with Bruce Wayne. He was ready to just be Tim Drake.

Tim Drake. Robin. A member of Young Justice.

Maybe he should think about his superhero name, now. Disconnect himself completely from Batman.

“We can press charges,” Esteban said, after taking a breath and putting his best ‘lawyer face’ on, “if that is why, we should press charges. He still has another kid at home.”

“You’ve signed a NDA,” Tim reminded him, “just get my name changed.”

“Which doesn’t apply to child abuse,” Esteban said, “Which you knew.”

Tim did know that. He also didn’t care if his lawyer reported it. Damian didn’t need to be living with Bruce, anyway. And Bruce deserved whatever scrutiny such a report would bring down on him. Tim almost didn’t even care if it exposed Batman.

That ‘almost’ was the only thing keeping him from reporting it himself, to get Damian out of there.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a child. And Bruce didn’t do this. So relax.”

Damian could take care of himself, Tim was sure. He lived with the Teen Titans half the time, anyway. Plus the Kents adored him. They’d watch out for him.

In fact. If Tim told Kon, he was fairly certain Kon would tell Clark, who would deal with Bruce himself.

Which, that was the perfect plan.

That’s what he’d do.

“Then who did it, Tim?”

Smiling his ‘Tim Wayne’ smile, Tim just said, “Timothy Jackson Drake is what I want my legal name to be.”

- - -

Weeks passed.

No one seemed to understand why Tim left.

‘That’s just how Bruce is,’ Babs had said.

‘He was upset,’ Helena explained.

‘Dude lost everything,’ Duke reasoned.

‘Master Tim, you must understand-’ Alfred had started, but Tim hung up on him.

Tim didn’t bother to ask Damian his opinion.

No one understood, and Tim was done trying to explain it to them.

If he could go the rest of his life without thinking about it or Bruce again, he’d live a happy life.

He didn’t need any of them, anyway.

- - -

But someone told Jason.

Tim wasn’t sure who, but someone told Jason. It was obvious, by the mere fact that Jason Todd was in his apartment, in the dark, waiting for Tim to get home.

It had been almost a month.

He’d cut himself off from the family cleanly.

And he and Jason might not have had a bad relationship. They just hadn’t been much more than friendly acquaintances.

“Welcome to the club, kid,” Jason said, not even looking up when Tim cut the light on to reveal Jason sitting sideways in the armchair, one leg slung up over the side, as he read something on his kindle. One of the ones that lit up.

Tim didn’t really like kindles. He wasn’t a huge fan of reading, in general, but he definitely didn’t like kindles. Tim would have never guessed that Jason, being a book nerd, used a kindle. He kind of seemed like the kind of dork who would prefer to smell the books, or something. While reading.

“Go away,” Tim said flatly, as he dropped his bag down on the ground and went to fix himself something to eat. He’d been away on a mission with his team for the last week. All he wanted to do was eat a bowl of something. Soup, probably. Lay on the couch and eat it while he watched something light and funny, then fall asleep. Possibly right there on the couch.

Talking to Jason was not any of those things.

“Heard you cut ties to Bat completely,” Jason said, “Gotta say. I’m impressed.”

Tim rolled his eyes as he looked through the various cans of soup he had in the cupboard, before he picked a hardy chicken and rice thing. “Don’t care. Go away.”

“Bat’s pissed, of course,” Jason said, as if Tim hadn’t said anything, “it��s kind of great.”

He watched his bowl spin in the microwave, while trying to blow Jason up with sheer willpower. Maybe if he thought hard enough, he’d discover latent super power abilities and make Jason disappear.

It could happen.

“But what I don’t get is: What did you do?”

“What did I do?” Tim echoed, spinning to stare at Jason, “What the fuck do you mean, what did I do?”

“To piss him off.”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, sure. You always seemed like a goody-goody to me. Daddy’s perfect little solider. What could you possibly do to-”

“I didn’t do anything,” Tim shouted, “Just like you didn’t do anything, and Dick didn’t do anything to deserve it. No one-”

“Let’s be fair here, Timbo. I tried to kill a dude.”

“So?” Tim asked, shaking his head, “Why does that make it okay for your literal Dad to attack you?”

Jason opened his mouth, but then just blinked at Tim.

“He- He-” Tim said, absolutely flabbergasted by Jason’s apparent… acceptance? Of all this? Out of all the people in the world, Tim thought Jason would understand.

Abuse was abuse. It was wrong. Regardless of what the victim did.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, as his hand started to shake. He stepped forward and gripped onto one of the bar stools at his island, and kept going, “And that’s what no one seems to get.”

And Bruce had… Bruce had abused him. Hadn’t he?

That’s what this was. It wasn’t just an attack. It wasn’t just….and… he’d done it to Jason before him. And Dick before that.

“Parents are supposed to- Dads are supposed to- supposed to love their kids,” Tim said, his voice quieting with each word, as his focus slipped from Jason, to off in the distance.

Bruce was their dad. And he was abusive.

“Tim.”

“I was just telling him I cared,” Tim snapped, angry Jason was making him feel things when all he wanted was some soup and an episode of The Simpsons. Or, maybe something like Futurama would be better. “And he just- he just…”

“Tim.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Tim whispered, needing to let go of the bar stool to wipe at his eyes.

Jason slowly got up and came to the counter, then sat down on the other side of the island. Sat his hands on the counter, then splayed out his fingers while he stared at them.

Eventually, long after the microwave had beeped, and Tim had ignored it in favor of staring at Jason’s hands, too, while he tried to keep his vision from blurring any further, Jason said, “Sorry, kid.”

“It was wrong,” Tim said numbly, and Jason just nodded, “it was wrong when he did it to you, too.”

At that, Jason scrubbed at his own eye, just briefly, before he seemed to realize he was doing it and put his hand back down on the counter. “It’s whatever,” he said, so nonchalantly that Tim realized Jason was a much better actor than he’d ever realized.

“He’s our dad,” Tim whispered.

“Yeah.”

“That’s not how Dads are supposed to be.”

- - -

After that, he and Jason started hanging out. Once a week or so. Sometimes every other week, if one of them were off on a mission.

Jason was doing something in Gotham. But Tim couldn’t bring himself to care. Not even when he visited Jason at the Iceberg Lounge and realized that the Penguin was most definitely being held captive behind the fish tank in his office.

Tim had nothing to do with Gotham anymore.

And since Jason hadn’t said a word to him about any of it, Tim could just pretend he didn’t know.

Besides, it’s not like Jason was killing.

So he didn’t care.

It was nice, after all. Having a big brother again.

Clark had kidnapped Damian, it seemed.

Well, Tim was pretty sure Bruce had allowed it to happen. Clark probably threatened to expose Bruce, or something. And took Damian home with him.

But that was good. It meant Tim didn’t have to intervene with Damian on a more personal level. He was safe, and probably much better off with the Kents, anyway.

He’d heard from Kon that they had bought Damian a bed and everything, suggesting that it was, perhaps, a rather permanent arrangement.

Tim wouldn’t be surprised if they bought a bigger apartment by the end of the year, either.

Sharing a room with Damian was probably pretty difficult.

“You talked to the demon recently?” Jason asked from Tim’s couch, where he was hogging the entire damn thing so he could lay back and toss one of Tim’s coaster’s up into the air over and over.

“No,” Tim admitted. He felt kind of bad about it, but it wasn’t like it was his fault. “I texted him a couple times, he told me to ‘fuck off’ in Damian speak.”

Jason frowned as the caught the coaster, then looked over at Tim. “How much you want to bet Bruce is taking his anger at Clark and everything out on Damian, and like, not talking to him at all?”

“Well, you know…I hate to say it, but good.”

With that, Jason missed the coaster, and it smacked him right in the face. He scowled and sat up, saying, “Tim…”

“He’s better without Bruce.”

“Damian won’t feel that way.”

“Don’t care,” Tim hummed, grabbing the remote to put something on. To end this conversation. “It’s the truth. He’ll get over it.”

Tim felt bad, though. Not reaching out better. Not making himself present in Damian’s life. The way the ‘family’ had split over this whole ordeal was disgusting, in his opinion. Basically him and Jason vs everyone else, and then Damian off in his own world, protected by the Kents. Where no one wanted to interfere.

It was like everyone had abandoned him. After he’d already lost Dick.

But Damian hated Tim. So why would Tim reaching out now do any good?

“He’s just a kid, though.”

- - -

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heartless-error · 4 years

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Broken, not perfect, but together. - Chapter 1

Fandom: DC comics, Batman

Pairings: Jonathan Kent x Damian Wayne (JonDami) & Jason Todd x Timothy Drake (JayTim)

Rating: General, family feels, hurt/comfort

Other(s) links: AO3

Broken.

The Batfamily was broken.

It was six years ago, and they had barely stood together since then, trying to stand up despite guilt and regret.

Damian was sure there was nothing to save, not after losing something that he didn’t know he cared about. But when a new opportunity to get back what they had lost appeared, he cannot help to doubt as his past decisions haunt him again.

If you love somebody, set them free. But you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Broken, not perfect, but together.

Chapter 1

Now.

“Akhi.”

That was a harsh word for Damian, or at least it had been in the past.

“Akhi.”

He was sure that nine or eight years ago, his preadolescent and irascible himself, full of anger and new in Gotham with a new family of strangers who seemed to reject all ways of life he had known until then, would have think twice before associate someone to that word deliberately.

Because brotherhood implied respect, feelings and emotions towards someone or several people. People who could take advantage of his weakness, his vulnerability in an instant and stand above him to see him fall in this cruel world. Because emotions make you weak, vulnerable, volatile, and if you’re not careful, you can die. Or at least that was the league of assassins taught him.

Maybe they were right.

However, Damian was equally sure that he was suffering a severe concussion. And he should get up quickly before the rogues flee out of there or finish the job, whichever they decide first, but none would be good news for him.

“Dam…! Answ…!”

His ears were ringing, he couldn’t hear well and only was able to recognize an annoying and loud static sound, mixed with broken and cut off words on the comms. He wanted to answer, really, but his body was partially numb, he was breathing hard, his head was fuzzy, and he wasn’t sure if the wet sensation in the side of his head was because the sweat or the blood.

Probably it was blood.

“Da…ian!”

Inhaling, he barely raised his hand to touch his temple, feeling his body heavy and shivering in pain, but his left side completely slept. And he knew he should get up from the floor, he had to, the dust and grit were very uncomfortable, he was coughing for a while and on top of that all of this is difficult to clean later, but the world was spinning and he knew he was utterly fucked when his hand covered in his own blood fell on the floor.

He wanted to focus for a moment, his blurred vision going through the ground, but his head throbbed with pain again and he couldn’t register beyond the static noises and the chaos around him. People were running away as the fire spread, the cries of the wounded could be hear in the distance and the calling of those who decided to help after the disaster too.

A neon sign, pink and green, blinked until the last breath between the rubble, barely recognizable and a few meters from him. It looked like it was laughing at him, because it was his fall, his distraction before the blast hit.

“Ans…r!”

Damian knew it was a terrible idea going to Gamorra. This operation was destinated to end like this or even worse and follow the steps of a new and a rookie terrorist organization so hastily and without thinking was stupid, especially when their businesses led them to this place.

But Damian needed to do it, he needed to get away from everything today, specially today. He didn’t want to look back, he didn’t want to look at Batman, or Nightwing, or Batgirl, or anyone. Neither go to the cave, or Gotham, or talk to anyone, or know anything. No, he didn’t want to remember, he didn’t want to think, even if that means he would end up dazed, wounded and pitiful under some rubble in Gamorra island after an explosion that certain terrorists considerated necessary to cover their tracks after knew someone was looking around for them.

“Akhi…”

If they could see him now… Pathetic.

Still dizzy and bleeding, in another big mistake he tried to get up, but his head exploded again in protest, his body shuddered in twinges of pain. He could have a broken rib, maybe two, and If he didn’t pass out in a few minutes maybe he could know finally if the heavy weight on his left side were more rubble or not, he wasn’t sure.

What was clear, even in his pitiful state, is that go after terrorists to another country to end up bleeding in the ground it isn’t a healthy coping mechanism, but it wasn’t the worst at least.

“I… oming! Hol… n!”

The voice on the comms was still screaming, scared and worried. Again, he would like to answer, but now he could barely hear well, and the more time passed it was harder to maintain consciousness. His vision was getting dark at its edges and each second his mind was numbest.

This idea was so, so bad. Surely his pride will be hurt in many ways when he wakes up, not to mention the discussion that will follow after that and all the disapproving looks that he will receive because of this damn explosion, which, in his defense, it shouldn’t have been that big.

But at the time it was a good idea, you know, a fantastic idea. Because he will receive the disapproving looks whatever he do, he didn’t have to think too much to hit a rogue, he wouldn’t have to feel the growing and suffocating tension of the batcave while he was in Zodome, and on top of that, if he was away from Gotham it would be easy not to look at the calendar and sink into guilt and resentment because of the day it was.

But, in his haste to hit someone and forget, Damian was wrong, that plan had a few mistakes, quite significant, and should have been considered. Because it wasn’t necessary to flew away from Gotham to remember the day, guilt would chase him even if he couldn’t look a single calendar in years, and the cave wasn’t the only place full of memories.

A neon sign was enough to distract him, to freeze him, to make him stop enough to not react at the explosion.

“I’m sorry…”

He could no longer hear the voice on the comms, he would faint in any moment, and his mind was randomly spitting out apologies and calls to his brothers, again and again while his vision was blurred but still fixed on the bar’s neon sign.

He vaguely remembered a story told on a rooftop, with laughs, drinks and Chinese takeout. An anecdote about how certain vigilantes entered in a bar with a pink, green neon sign in Zodome was told, they drank, they talked (“I can’t be here.” “Who you’re gonna tell? Dick?”), and then they kicked the bad guys to defeat Mother.

And now, that place was nothing but rubble, Damian buried in them. How ironic.

“Tim… Jason…” He called them again before passing out completely.

~ 0.0 ~

“Damian.” Someone said gently to his side. “Wake up.”

That voice, so calm and irritating as ever, along with the sound of movement at his side, was what disturbed his sleep, pulling him slightly from the haze and waking him up in an internal curse.

Opening his eyes, Damian blinked for a few seconds until they accustomed to the light of the room. His room, if he remembered correctly, because his desk was organized as always, the walls were of the same soft color and the sheets over him were those that Pennyworth always put there especially when he knew they were his favorite when he was injured and benched.

Settling on the mattress and evaluating the state of his wounds while his body protested, he turned his head slightly to look with rejection at the person who had awakened him, as if he committed the greatest offense against his being.

“Drake.” He said angrily.

Tim, looking impassive and inscrutable as usual, was sitting on the chair placed at the side of his bed where Grayson used to tell him how his day was. But the third Robin only gave him a nod and a brief look to the tray placed on his nightstand.

“Alfred made me bring your meal.” Ha explained with a shrug.

Exhaling a grunt, Damian fixed his eyes on the tray and the food in there and huffed reluctantly, he wasn’t hungry, and he didn’t want to deal with this. But telling “no” to Alfred’s food while you were in bed would have the same effect as telling his father to go to therapy: none.

Moreover, he wouldn’t be facing only Alfred, because the butler had sent Drake for a reason. And he could feel it along that clear and undisguised look from those baby blues, terribly insistent, piercing, carefully assessing his wounds and shining with a silent and an imperceptible plea to get up and eat something at the same time.

Damian swears to himself that he was sitting on the bed because he didn’t want to face Pennyworth’s disappointment, and not because the fact that Drake was quietly worried about him makes him feel warm.

So, maybe like this he gives him an example and he can use it as a coercion later when Drake ends up in the bench too. Because anyone can say how annoying he was, putting so much effort -quietly and covered- to take care of others when then he sleeps two hours a day and mix Monster and coffee in the same cup.

“Are you going to stay here and watching?” He asks, annoyed when the teenager give him the tray and doesn’t seem to get up from the chair.

Tim seemed to think for a moment, but when he was going to speak, presumably to spoil him or to expose a logical and irrefutable reason about why he should stay, another voice from the door interrupted.

“I would do it too, make sure you eat, you’re a gremlin and you need to grow.”

Damian had to bite his tongue to not insult Jason in the exact moment he saw his ugly face peering though the door. But he knew that explain to him that he was still in the growth phase and will reach his height in a few years -probably- won’t work. Because Todd only had a role when he dared to put a foot on the mansion these days: annoy.

Which is was terribly irritating, because it’s not as if Todd was in the mansion a lot, but when he did, he sure was noticed. Moreover, he barely did it, his relationship with the family remains tense and fragile, except perhaps with Drake, which is the only one who seems to stand him. But as Grayson told him before sleep, Red Hood was screwed last night (again), and Red Robin had to drag his useless ass to get healed in the medbay, which explain his presence, his bandages and his desire to drive everyone crazy.

“Then Drake needs this more than me.” He pointed at the food. If something was clear was that he will surpass Tim, because he was already starting to catch him and that was a victory.

“I’m not the one on the bench.” Drake said rolling his eyes. “That’s you, for reckless.”

“You got him, Timmy.” Exclaimed Jason as he entered the room with that mocking attitude and sat on the bed, as if he could do that. “So, you know kid, you can’t give him that healthy food of yours, it won’t work, Babybird only eats coffee and takeaways, it’s part of his charm.”

“The charm of not knowing take care of himself?” He asked raising an eyebrow at them, angrily and intrigued equally because, babybird?

“And you are telling me this while you’re in the bench and you were knocked up yesterday in an alley, okay.” Tim snorted, pointing them out and then crossing his arms, quite annoyed.

“I wasn’t knocked up, I was resting.” Jason emphasized, as if anyone could believe that. “And being so small, you sure get in big problems, demon spawn.”

“Get out of my room.”

“Ouch! That’s hurt. Right, Timtam?” To top it off, Jason seemed to have the courage to look really hurt, while Tim nodded.

“Get. Out.”

“We’re only making you company!”

“I don’t want your company.” Snapped Damian at him. “It’s pitiful.”

“But who’s better than your older brothers to distract you?” Jason asked mockingly, referring to them as his “brothers” with sarcasm.

It was known to all of them that Todd was the one who referred to their group as “family”, but he did it sarcastically and with a strong irony, so Damian doubted that he really believes that.

“You’re not my brothers.”

Harsh words that coincided with Jason’s irony, which Damian has repeated to them many times on countless occasions. Previously with real strength in them, believing them real and reaffirming on them, because he was the only true son, the blood son, and they were nothing. Now, however, he said it without any power, without force or actual anger, just with a scathing and a tender touch.

Normally, they answer with another joke or other insult without feeling or sorrow, because that’s how they were and how their usual relationship works.

“It’s true, we’re not.” Tim said seriously. “That’s why we left you so easily, remember?”

Damian froze, feeling the abrupt change of the tone and the atmosphere in the room. Cold, it was so cold, very cold and bitter. He shouldn’t have answered that, Tim shouldn’t have said that, not in that way. No, that’s not how they did this. An icy twinge pierced through him as Timothy’s words sank into his head.

He looked at him, shocked, stunned, and Drake gaze was so indifferent this time, so cold, making Damian shudder.

“Wha-“

He barely managed to say anything before Jason got up and looked at him in the same way, in a listless and distant anger, when just a second ago he was smiling.

“It’s true. We’re going to leave you.” He announced in a firm and calm way, without a trace of regret on him. “To leave them.”

He was quiet, stunned, a knot formed in his throat and words couldn’t get out. Even if they could, he would remain static, analyzing what they were saying in that cold and decisive tone.

“We’re going to leave you, Damian.” Tim repeated. “You’re not going to see us never again.”

“We’ll go, and you don’t matter at all.”

“We didn’t care about you anyway.”

“That’s why it will be so easy to leave you.”

“We were going to do it sooner or later, like everyone, you know?”

The illusion was broken, there was no more food tray to worry about, no soft sheets, no cozy room with them trying to make him laugh while he was in the bench. Now everything was cold, just cold, icy and painful with their words echoing around him and tearing him apart.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t do anything. Just listen.

“Aren’t you happy, Damian?”

“You should be happy.”

He wasn’t. He wasn’t.

“Isn’t this what you always wanted?”

“It is. Being the only child, the real.”

“You wanted us dead, you wanted us out of here. Because we were adopted and useless. The pretenders.”

No, he didn’t want that. He didn’t want this. He though he did, but it wasn’t true. It was the words and actions of an insecure child who grew up between violence and believing the poisonous words of those who he thought he could trust.

“Well, congratulations, you win.”

“We’ll leave you forever.”

No.

“Just as you wanted.”

No. No. He didn’t want that. He never did.

“Congratulations, Damian.”

No. Please.

“Congratulations.”

No. Stop, not again.

“It’s your fault.”

It is, he knows it. He has always known.

“Your fault. Yours alone. Always yours.”

His fault. His fault. Is his fault, but they couldn’t leave. Not again, please.

“Goodbye.” They said at the same time.

The door slammed, the illusion of the dream broke and something inside Damian did it too.

~ 0.0 ~

When he opened his eyes this time, he was alone, restless and laying in the last place he wanted to be.

It’s not that the beds in the medbay were uncomfortable to recover or something, at 22 years old Damian knows he probably slept more in them than in his own bed, but they are not the suitable place to have a nightmare induce by guilt and then pretend to calm down.

Taking himself a few seconds to rest quietly, he evaluated how was his body and the damage he had suffered in the explosion. Obviously, all hurt, but he had survived worse things. If he had to guess he’d say a couple of bruised ribs, his head about to explode because of the concussion and the left side of his torso a bit hit.

To all of this, he must also add his wounded pride, disappointment, anger and a pleasant memory of a few years ago turned into a nightmare that still had him looking at the ceiling of the cave in silence.

But something tells him that he had been very, very lucky. He had left smaller explosions than that with more injuries, and sometimes he didn’t need the explosion itself.

“And being so small, you sure get in big problems, demon spawn.”

Sure.

Maybe Jason was right, even now, when he is no longer small, he faces problems and these can still knock him, even with his height. He knows he almost reached Jason’s height -maybe there’s still a few inches left- but he surpassed Tim a long time ago.

It’s a shame he can’t prove it.

He started to remember exactly that nightmare and the voices of his brothers full of hatred and indifference again when the door of the room opened and the only person he wanted to see now and forever entered quietly. Who, casually, was the same person who told him to go to Gamorra was an stupid idea, who had been yelling at the comms when everything gone wrong and who probably saved him and brought him back to be treated.

Jonathan Kent, with 19 years old, dropped the clean linen which he had been carrying in his hands -possibly for him and providing by Alfred- and rushed to his side letting out a gasp when he realized he had opened his eyes.

“Damian!” He shouted leaning on the bed and looking at him in concern. “You’re awake!”

He should have said something witty, but he couldn’t help but wince when Jon laid in the mattress, his ribs and bruises protesting in agony.

“I’m sorry!” He apologized, walking away immediately, more worried if possible. “Did you just wake up? How do you feel? You need something?”

Usually, seeing Jon so frantic, worried and fluttering his hands over him without knowing what to do it’s good, but now only made him feel a little guilty, and he had a lot of that these days. Especially if he remembers how many times his partner told him how bad his idea was and how his voice sounded in panic in the comms when he couldn’t answer after the explosion.

“I just want to sit.” He snorted, ignoring all his previous questions, leaning on his elbows and sitting up in the bed, obviously with his help. “How long have I been out?”

“Only day and a half.” Said the super, sitting on the side of the mattress with unusual calm.

It wasn’t much, but enough for that Jon’s presence didn’t amuse Batman at all and the situation intimidated his partner at the same time. Because it was a fact that the kryptonian had been with him, waiting him for wake up and without accepting any other alternative that would involve separate from him.

But at least, now that he’s sitting and moving, he can confirm that his injuries could have been worse. He lifted his clothes and looked at the bruised on his left side, serious and rather sleazy, nothing more. He touched lightly his ribs, and the wound and bandage on his head too. Finally, he reached the conclusion that with a few days of rest, painkillers and maybe a quiet patrol he will be okay.

Or maybe not, because while he was valuating his state Jon had been too silent all the time, just staring and waiting, thoughtful and absorbed.

Damian lifted his head to look at him at the eyes, and when the gaze was finally returned, he knew exactly what was coming and started to prepare himself for the imminent outbreak. Jon sighed, his blue eyes flashed with determination, he took a breath and Damian could tell by the expression on his face that this could take a while.

“You have any idea of how lucky you were?” He began to rant.

He has, he can imagine. But instead of saying it, he reflected briefly how it was that since so soon in their youth that Jon managed to be part of that small group of people who can talk to him like that without any repercussion.

“The explosion destroyed about five blocks away! And I’m not gonna talk about the fires from later!”

Rare thing, because supposedly, the terrorists he was chasing shouldn’t have had material for an explosion of such dimensions, indeed, there shouldn’t have been an explosion at all. Maybe was something else?

“I told you it was a terrible idea!” Jon snapped with that upset and sad look typical from the supers. “Did I?”

He did, several times, yes. Which he ignored deliberately. At least it was something that hadn’t change in him after all these years, unlike his willingness to answer and retort to fight like kids when something like this happened when they were… kids.

“I did!” He exclaimed as he pointed at him, which made him reminded Lois Lane very much when she used to spoil them years ago. “And you listened to me?”

You only must look at him to know the answer.

“No! Because you always do this! You didn’t even wait for me!”

True, he didn’t wait for him. He decided to go for it alone, because it was much easy to punish himself and drown in his own regrets while he believed that Jon needed to do the same thing in Kansas while he was visiting his family.

“I heard the explosion from the farm.” Said the other while stared at him and twisted the sheets in his hands tightly. “I was tuned because I thought… I knew you were there, and then you didn’t answer in our comms.”

Again, Jon’s words in his ear, begging him to answer and saying he was going to find and help him, echoed in his head, making him squirm uncomfortably.

“A-And when I arrived, everything was chaos and fire… There was so much to do, and I couldn’t help everyone. I-I found you unconscious and half buried in the rubble…”

He has started to stammer; Damian knows where that leads.

“You’re not invulnerable, Damian!” He cried increasingly frantic. “You could have…! You could have…!”

Damian decided he had had enough when he realized that Jon was physically unable to finish the last sentence and his eyes had begun to glow due to hold back the tears.

So, knowing it was the best way to calm him down and let him know he was okay, he raised his arms quickly to cradle his face in his hands and bent to shut up Jon with a kiss. A firm and a simple kiss, that gave them comfort, took them back to reality and dispelled the tension in their bodies.

When he finished, he pulled back a few inches and looked at him seriously, making sure he had his full attention.

“I’m fine.” He said as he slightly tightened his grip on his face. “See?”

He’s okay, he’s not dead, he’s here and they are together. He didn’t need to worry; he will recover in a few days. Jon’s not going to lose him, that’s what he needed to hear, to know, to feel desperately after having gone through all and have been waiting for him to wake up.

Jonathan looked at him stunned, indecisive for a few seconds, assimilating the most recent events without move. Finally, when he seemed to connect everything, he blushed, reached the pillow behind Damian and proceeded to hit him several times with the minimal strength a super could have.

“You. Are. A. Jerk!” He repeated a lot of times, along with other insults, as he hit him with the pillow.

Damian could have complained, even fight back, or at least tell him that no matter how many times he kisses him or tell him that he is okay, his wounds doesn’t appreciate a surprise attack from an angry kryptonian with a pillow. But he knew his boyfriend needed this, he needed to blame him after worried him that much. And a pillow fight wasn’t the best option right now, and maybe, maybe, he deserved it just a little, so he allowed him to hit him. And they say that Damian Wayne has no honor.

By the time Jon had finished his attack, Damian had no choice but to lie back in bed, helpless and with a super on top of him, but being careful not to touch his wounds. Finally, Jon throwed the pillow around and looked at him from his position, sulking and puffing.

“You scared me.” He declared in a whisper. “A lot.”

“I know.” Damian nodded and stepped aside in the bed in a subtle invitation to the other.

Taking the invitation, Jon laid beside him with the utmost care and settled down to feel him close, resting his head on his shoulder and sighing heavily.

“I’m still angry.” He murmured in a bad mood, but the way he relaxed against his side indicated the opposite.

But Damian just nodded again. He could understand how annoying Jon was, it was fair, he would also be furious. Moreover, he was, two years ago, on this date. When Jon thought it was a great idea to get drunk in the morning with something from the space, throw away a tractor in the afternoon because “he didn’t like the color” and have a fist fight with aliens with a possibly hostile intentions on the night.

At least two years ago Jon came out of that presumably well, which Damian couldn’t relate, because all his failure now is added to his memories and the damn date. And it was the day, right? They knew it was. That day, that date, drives them crazy and wait them to not do something stupid is impossible.

“I understand and I know you’re sorry.” Jon ended saying on his collarbone, gloomy. Of course, he understands, he had to. “But don’t do this to me again, please.”

Yes, he was sorry, and grateful that Jon knew him well enough to know how sorry he was, but how much he struggles to admit it. Instead, he grabbed his hand, lacing his fingers, and squeezed in response.

Both of them knew that the last thing was hard to do, seeing their records and the life they have, it was impossible, and maybe the next time it’s Damian who would have to be a day and half waiting for his boyfriend wakes up while his family watch.

Speaking of that…

“I don’t want to be here.” Damian whispered, staring at the ceiling of the cave again with intensity.

“I know, me neither.” Jon admitted sinking a little closer.

Damian tried not to think about how hard it had to be for his partner, not only having to save him and take him here to be treated and then wait, but also having to walk around the cave precisely those days and next to a broken batfamily who didn’t know how to assimilate them.

“How much time do we have?” He asked, making calculations of those who should return soon and those who not. He knew that, no matter how worried Jon was, he was going to help him to evade the bats, to pack up and fly together to Metropolis.

“Enough” Jon affirmed as he leaned in to kiss him softly in the cheek.

Damian sighed, calculating their chances again. They would go anyway, this was not the first time they did it, and even with a day and a half late they had more than one reason to want to get out from the cave and leave Gotham as soon as possible.

And if they could avoid looking at the suits of Red Robin and Red Hood exposed in the fallen’s mausoleum, the better.

#JayTim #jondami #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #damian wayne #jonathan kent #dc #DC comics #Red Robin #red hood #robin #superboy #supersons #myfic

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shipmistress9 · 5 years

Text

FTLOAP: Chapter 45: The Time Will Come When You'll Have To Rise

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net - AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Part 1: Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11;

Part 2: Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32; Interlude 3; Bonus 1; Chapter 33

Part 3: Chapter 34; Chapter 35; Chapter 36; Interlude 4; Chapter 37; Chapter 38; Chapter 39; Chapter 40; Interlude 5; Chapter 41; Chapter 42; Chapter 43; Chapter 44

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

tagging @drchee5e @hey-its-laura-again @thepixiedustfactory

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Woohoo! I actually managed another chapter, hard to believe, I know...

I think at this point, it would be more sensible to remove any scheduled updates, and I just post the next chapter when it's done. Fair warning though: November is fast approaching now and with it NaNoWriMo. I'm not going to participate in that this year, but my alpha-reader does. So I don't know how much time he'll have for editing and helping. And after NaNo, I'm very close to my delivery date already, so no promises about updates then, either. However, I solidly plan to at least post one more chapter before that! Afterwards, I don't know how quickly I will get back to writing. If you have questions though, you can always contact me through PM here or through the ATOV Discord server. And without a regular update schedule, I now have a tagging list here, so if you want to get included there, just tell me. 😊

I feel positive about this other update because a good part of it is already written as I'd originally planned to have that scene in this chapter. But as it is, the chapter got pretty long already so I split it again. This time, the ending feels much more solid than the last time I had to do that, and I hope it feels that way for you, too.

This week's title comes from the song Warriors again by Imagine Dragons. After splitting the chapter, I again had to come up with a new title, and after a bit of thinking, this one felt exceedingly fitting. 😇

. o O o .

Throughout the following few days, Astrid kept pondering over it all; Eret’s accident and everything that had happened afterwards. It wasn’t entirely by choice; she much rather would have thought about Hiccup and how they could be together instead. But she was at a loss there, only having Hiccup’s renewed optimism to hold on to, and repeatedly going through the same pointless plans wasn’t exactly productive. Thinking about other problems instead wasn’t necessarily more pleasant, but it was still… easier.

And thinking about those incidents certainly had a grounding effect. The more she mentally reviewed the attempted stab in the back against Eret, the more certain she was about one thing – from the fierceness and aim of his attack, the now-dead nobleman had intended for it to be a killing blow. It was a hot topic of gossip among the nobles, with many supporting her opinion – without her ever having stated it openly – and being outraged on her and her future husband’s behalf, aided by more witnesses speaking up about their view of the man’s dishonourable attack. Tournament or not, melee or not, stabbing a man in the back was seen as low and cowardly. Some had even called for action against the man’s family, such as fines or other punishments. But as he was already dead, the King had dismissed the idea, saying that they’d been punished enough. However, the entire topic, with the number of witnesses essentially corroborating Astrid’s opinion, was enough that even Eret and Dagur had to admit that it probably hadn’t been an accident at all.

At first, accepting that fact had made especially Dagur’s anger at Snotlout grow even hotter, though not for long. Snot hadn’t gotten through that fight unscathed either, despite initial impressions. The hit against his head had caused a mild concussion, and the kick to his side had cracked a rib. If he’d lost on purpose somehow, then he’d made an incredibly bad bargain.

Both Eret and Snot had been confined to bed rest on the healers’ orders for the following few days, making Astrid anxious for both of her brothers. No matter how irritating Snot’s behaviour lately had been, she still cared for him. But now, two days later, Master Mulch had been willing to state that he was relatively certain that both ducal heirs would fully recover. Eret had even insisted on riding out for today’s hunt again; not to actually participate, but at least to show that he was recovering, that he was still there and the place at her side not vacant again.

And no matter how much Astrid – and practically everybody else – had scolded him for this unnecessary show of bravado, she was also grateful for it. Eret could be pretty foolhardy, she knew that perfectly well. But she also knew that he wouldn’t risk his health and life for something as superficial as this. No, she trusted in him, in his assurance that he was doing fine, and let it soothe her enough not to worry about his injury too much. His safety was another matter altogether, but there was little she could do about that. Right now, he was out in the forest, accompanied by Hiccup and Dagur, and probably with a few of her father’s guards keeping a close eye on him, too. That would have to be enough.

Sighing, she turned the next corner. For once, she had nothing to do; with her suitors being out on that hunt and with her governess being done lecturing her for today, she was at loose ends, for a little while at least. But as there wasn’t enough time to go anywhere, she’d opted for a stroll through the castle instead, with Timothy walking a couple of steps behind her.

Well, there was one place she could go, and if things were different, she would have gone to visit Fishlegs as soon as her governess had let her leave. But of course, that wasn’t an option these days. Just thinking about Heather made a bunch of twisted emotions rise inside Astrid. There was the fear that she might expose them, despite her declaration that she would keep their secret. She’d made it clear, after all: she didn’t feel any fealty to them, not when their actions might threaten her own little family. And no matter how much Astrid tried to avoid that thought; she was acutely aware of the fact that, if Hiccup wasn’t a consideration, she probably would have married Eret without question – and thus make Dagur more inclined to focus on his role as ducal heir as well.

But beneath that fear, she could also relate to Heather. The threat of having the future she’d been so sure of ripped away from her, of losing those she loved, and being ready to do everything to keep them… yes, she could sympathise with that all too well. She just hoped that it wouldn’t come to that, that Heather wouldn’t feel threatened enough to take actions against her relationship with Hiccup. Because Astrid wasn’t sure what she’d do then, was even afraid of how far she might be willing to go.

If only they would be able to come up with something of a plan, some way to achieve their goal without tearing anyone else down with them. She just wanted to be with Hiccup, to be able to love him in peace and spend her life with him. Was that really too much to ask for?

To soothe her anxiety at least a little, she pressed her hand to her chest, focusing on and basking in the warm glow of Hiccup’s soul. They would find a way! Somehow… Maybe running away really wasn’t an option, but that didn’t mean that there couldn’t be other ways.

With her hand still resting over her heart, she paused at one of the high windows and gazed out over the land around the castle. It was beautiful, with the lake to her left, the edges of the forest in the distance, and grassland in-between, littered with solitary trees and shrubs here and there. It was still early in the year, but it was obvious that spring was coming quickly now, trees and bushes showing first signs of green and some early flowers growing everywhere.

Yes, it was beautiful… But that didn’t change that it was nothing but a cage, binding and suffocating her.

She was about to turn away when a bit of movement caught her eye. There, on a meadow to the right, a handful of horses pranced over the grass and chased each other around. Some grooms were there, too, watching over the animals, all clearly enjoying the sunlight.

The sight gave Astrid a painful sting. Usually, visiting the stables on a day like this would be an option too, but… but not yet. Someday, she certainly would have the strength to enter the stables again. She was even looking forward to riding and generally being around horses again. But for now, the pain of losing Markor was still too strong. It had all happened so fast. In one moment, everything had been as usual and in the next, he’d just been… gone. She missed him with a dull ache in her chest, one that only worsened when she remembered how she hadn’t even been able to say goodbye in any way and had no way of remembering or mourning him.

Except… that wasn’t really true, was it? she mused with something of a grimace. She still had the statue Hiccup had given her as a Midwinter gift. As a reminder, he’d said... Her lips twitched into a sad smile as she contemplated the irony. He’d meant that it would be a reminder of him for when he couldn’t be with her, and not of the horse it depicted. But somehow, she felt like this was the perfect way to remember Markor: frozen yet so alive in this tiny figurine – as if he was about to turn and run around at any moment. The thought made a lump rise in her throat, but she managed to keep any tears at bay. She would miss him, would always remember him. But no matter how pointless his death had been, endlessly crying over his fate wouldn’t revive him, either.

Tearing her thoughts away from that path, they inevitably landed where she hadn’t wanted them instead. It wasn’t even farfetched, her mind quickly drawing the connection between Markor and Hiccup, of him giving her that figurine, of the nights she’d spend in the stables, so comfortable and optimistic about their future. She still trusted in the Gods, or whatever force had woven their fates together, but even that didn’t really help when faced with the hopelessness brought by rejecting one impossible idea after the other.

Maybe Dagur and Eret had been right after all and approaching Daniel with a request for help might work. But even though he certainly had been fond enough of Hiccup during the winter, Astrid wasn’t sure whether she could rely on just that flimsy hope, especially as he wasn’t to return for at least another week anyway. That would be hitting awfully close to when it would be too late…

She also was aware of a certain piece of parchment that was still safely stored away in her new treasure box. She was ready to use her father’s boon for this; they would probably need every bit of help they could get. But without a plan, she was afraid of revealing her feelings to the King. She just couldn’t predict how he would react. All she knew was that simply ‘requesting to marry Hiccup’ wouldn’t work. The King had made it clear that his announcement of her marrying one of the eligible noblemen currently courting her wasn’t something he could or would take back. And ‘giving Hiccup land and title’ was equally hopeless. Because Hiccup had been right, there was no land even the King could easily give away just like that.

It all seemed overwhelmingly hopeless, but she had to have faith, had to trust that they would find a way. Eventually…

Later, Astrid would be sure that what happened next had to have been the Gods who guided her steps. Meeting the Grand Dukes Oswald and Eret II in the vast labyrinth that was the castle’s corridors couldn’t have been just a coincidence – the timing was too perfect.

At first, she only heard a familiar voice from around a corner, one that made her feel a little more at ease in an instant, thanks to her mind associating it with enjoyable vacations in the South and days spent at Southshore’s sunny beaches. The voice spoke quietly, but as soon as she focused, the words became easily understandable.

“...just received a letter from Lord Gregson. Apparently, it is as I feared.”

“That’s unfortunate,” came Eret II’s muttered reply. “What exactly did he– Oh, hello Astrid,” he interrupted himself as she stepped into view, a fond smile spreading across his weathered face at her sight. “How are you, lass? Are you bored to death by all these tournaments and suitors yet?”

Astrid’s face twisted, unsure how to react to that. Of course, Uncle Eret knew her well enough to know that she didn’t exactly enjoy all this fuss, just like she in return knew that he wasn’t any better when it came to overly formal events. But on the other hand, he’d been in on this plan, so it felt a little two-faced for him to complain about them now. Either way, she couldn’t ignore the fatherly smile on his face and not the usual sense of ease it gave her either. And it again reminded her of how, under different circumstances, she’d be about to join his House, his family, and do so happily.

“You know me too well,” she played along, plastering an indulgent smile on her lips. “I’m just glad it’ll all be over soon.”

“Aye, it certainly will be,” Oswald agreed with a light snort. Beneath his own smile, he seemed troubled though, making Astrid wonder what the men had been talking about before she’d interrupted them.

Cocking her head, she tried to look as innocent as possible. “But enough of that. What was it you were talking about just now? It seems to bother you, is anything the matter?” She wasn’t even sure what kind of answer she expected. But asking couldn’t hurt, right?

“Oh, that,” Oswald waved her off with a forced smile. “That’s just politics. Believe me, you wouldn’t be interested in this, lass. If you really think tournaments are boring, be glad that it’s not on you to deal with such things, too.”

Astrid had to bite back any comment on that. It was so typical that the men wouldn’t tell her anything.

Eret II grunted in agreement and shook his head. “Yeah, this really is nothing you need to be concerned about. But it’s good that we met here. I wanted to ask whether my son is already settled in his new rooms. I hardly get the chance to talk to him these days, he’s always so busy.” He chuckled and winked at her.

Because of… reasons, Eret had been made to relocate into other rooms, reasons that made her have to hide a smirk. “As far as I know, he’s relocating today,” she replied as calmly as she could. “A group of servants should be transferring his belongings to the new room as we speak. At least I’m supposed to meet him there for a private dinner later – with a whole entourage of chaperons, of course.” She forced something of an amused grimace onto her face, hoping that it was an appropriate reaction. Deep down, she was glad over this development, though. With having made her unofficial choice at the ball came a few privileges that certainly were to her liking. Like being allowed to spend time with her future husband in a more private setting, with only her warder or maidservant and Sir Eret’s squire as chaperons.

Apparently, her reaction had been what the men had expected from her as they both chuckled fondly at her comment. Even Timothy behind her couldn’t stay completely quiet, covering up his laughter as coughing. Of course, his amusement had an altogether different reason, but that was something the Grand Dukes didn’t need to know about.

“That sounds about right,” Eret II eventually commented, sobering up again. “Then we better not delay you, wherever you were heading to. See you soon.”

The men nodded at her with something of an insinuated bow – more of a polite nod with a bit of a bend at the waist – which Astrid dutifully returned with a curtsy of her own before she took the obvious dismissal and continued on her way. The fact that she’d again been excluded from any political knowledge bugged her though, so when she reached another junction only a few steps further down the corridor, she went there, giving the Grand Dukes a last friendly smile as she turned around the corner. As soon as she was out of sight though, she made a step to the side to hide in a doorway, indicating Tuff to be quiet and follow her lead. Maybe, just maybe, she could learn something about the political situation of the Kingdom after all.

And for once, she couldn’t believe her luck.

“So, what was it Lord Gregson wrote to you in that letter?” Eret II said, picking up their conversation.

There was a low, unamused snort from Oswald. “Basically, that he’s giving up. He used so many fancy words that I think he asked one of Frigga’s Gythias to help him compose it. All of these wonderful, florid turns-of-phrase, on and on. About how honoured he felt that we put such trust into him and how he’d wanted to give his best to live up to these expectations and so forth.”

“Aye, I know the type of report,” Eret II said. “I think I’ve even written a few in my time, back when we were younger.”

“I know. I helped, remember? But you were drunk at the time, so I’m not surprised that you don’t,” Oswald said tartly but fondly. The pair of them walked past the doorway, and Astrid gave Tuff a look of dire threat if he so much as blinked loudly. Outside, Oswald continued. “But it all boils down to the fact that he doesn’t feel up to the task of rebuilding County Ravenledge. And at this point, it doesn’t even matter whether it’s because he feels as if the people there deserve better after all they’ve been through or whether he just realised how much work that would be and is too lazy to stand his ground under such circumstances. At least he’s honest enough to admit that he doesn’t feel up to the challenge. But that means that we have to find someone else to take it on, and I fear that the reasons for Lord Gregson’s pull-out will become publicly known sooner rather than later. Which also means that in a week or two, it’ll become increasingly difficult to find a replacement. Everyone is hungry for titles, yes, but that’s because they’re all spoiled brats who want to live like, well, nobles, not have to work with me looking over their shoulder.”

"Yes, I see your problem," came Eret II’s reply, his voice getting lower and lower as the distance between Astrid and the Grand Dukes grew. "I wish we could spare Osmond this problem in addition to everything else, but he has to know about it."

"No doubts about that. But maybe, this can even come in handy." Oswald laughed harshly. "Although, while it would make for a great white elephant, it’s getting the poor sap to accept it that’ll be the tricky part. We…"

The voices grew too low for Astrid to understand more, but she felt as if she'd heard enough anyway. Stunned, she stood in her doorway and stared at Tuff, unsure whether she was ready to believe what she'd just heard. But in his eyes, she spotted the same excited gleam that was buzzing in her mind as well, and tentatively, she let hope take roots inside her.

County Ravenledge… the name alone was enough to make her cringe at the reminder of Harold, of his foul breath on her skin and his filthy hands on her body. But he was the past and that wasn't what truly was on her mind anyway.

The man her father and the Grand Dukes had instituted as new Count Ravenledge had resigned his office. And now, it was back in the hands of the Crown, free to be distributed to whoever was deemed fit or worthy of the job.

Astrid's heart was pounding rapidly against her ribs and she was incredibly glad for the hard wood in her back keeping her upright. This was it! This was what they'd been looking for, the solution to their problem, the way out. If Hiccup became the new Count Ravenledge, then he definitely would be of a high-enough rank for her to marry him. Nobody would dare to object to such a choice.

"I assume you want to meet with Eret as soon as possible?" Tuff needlessly asked, emphasising the name to let her know that he knew who she really wanted to see. Astrid could only nod, her mind whirling with countless possibilities. "Then I suggest we return to your rooms and Ruff and I see whether we can help to get his new rooms ready. The sooner you all can talk this through the better.”

. o O o .

The reason why Eret had to move into other rooms was the source of a wide range of emotions to Astrid. It had all started with some whispered mutterings on the morning after the ball, whispers Astrid herself hadn’t learned about until a day later. Apparently, some people thought it was inappropriate for Eret, the soon-to-be-but-not-yet-husband of the Princess, to spend his nights in such close proximity to her. After all, he inhabited an entire suite of rooms in the family wing of the castle, only separated from his future wife by three corridors. Why, behind two sets of thick oak doors, all sorts of... things could happen in his bedroom!

Yesterday, when Astrid finally had heard them from Eret, she’d initially laughed before another thought had struck her, making her irritation smoulder. Apparently, people were serious about the insinuations against Eret’s character. Eret had slept in that suite for months now, ever since he’d arrived in the capital last fall. And back then, people had already believed them to be a ‘couple’, and had for years. But now it was a problem? Just when things were heating up to the point that Eret was surviving attempts on his life?

It was an obvious smear campaign, and her fury had started to kindle–

–Only to vanish like smoke in a high wind when Tuff had burst out laughing at her indignation and Ruff had, after fighting her own mirth, explained that she and her brother had started the whispers. But even this confusion – and granted, Eret’s and Dagur’s as well – hadn’t lasted long.

The rumours and public demands for decency had apparently all been part of their plan; a few comments down in the kitchens and washer-rooms and elsewhere had spread like a wildfire on open grasslands. With the castle still being unusually packed from the celebrations, there weren’t exactly many other places for Eret – and Hiccup – to move to. House Jag’r’s townhouse certainly was an option, but with Eret still healing and having to participate in the events again as soon as he was recovered, it was more sensible for him to stay at the castle. So, after some discussions – discussions in which the twins were included, in their positions as Eret’s apparent-betrothed’s personal servants – it was decided that Eret would relocate to the so-called haunted rooms.

At that, Eret had merely raised an eyebrow, and Dagur had made an encouraging gesture, all of them waiting for Ruff to continue in her explanation.

“The ‘haunted rooms’ are what the staff call the Greatpine Suite,” Ruff explained. “Two floors down from Astrid’s suite and on the other end of the building. Everyone thinks that they’re haunted because there’s this eerie whistling that everyone who stays there hears.” She met Eret’s eyes with a smirk. “So you’ll trade with the men currently barracked there; they’ll be happy to get out, even though your current suite is smaller. But surely a brave knight like Sir Eret of House Jag’r won’t mind, right?”

Laid out in his sickbed, Eret gave her a dubious look that made the twins burst out in even more laughter. Slapping her knee, Ruff gasped, “Don’t worry, there’s no draugr buried under the floorboards or anything else that people say about the rooms.”

“In fact, be honoured that we’re telling you,” Tuff snickered. “Because it’s a secret.”

“What is?” Astrid demanded.

“Why, the secret passage, of course!” Ruff said innocently.

Astrid blinked. “Secret passage?”

“Yup. The one that ends behind that particularly warty painting around the corner from your rooms, Princess,” Tuff said cheerfully. “It was probably meant to be an easy escape route in case of an attack, but hardly anyone knows about them by now.”

Astrid gave another blink as Eret protested. “But you two can’t be the only ones that know about them. Secret or no secret, it’s really hard to hide a whole passageway, even in a building this big. Someone else will make the connection and complain – and it’s too big a risk to use them, if the servants use them, too!”

“But the servants don’t use them,” Ruff emphasised.

“Present company excepted,” Tuff corrected, grinning. “They’re too small,” he mimed a space only a bit wider than his shoulders and lower than his head, “and filled with cobwebs and... gunk.”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “And you use them for prank getaways?”

“Milady!” Ruff exclaimed, faux-scandalized. “Such accusations!” She smirked and said, “Besides, even the ones that do know...” She shrugged and looked at Astrid and Eret. “They’re all caught up in the romance of it all. I know at least one cook gave me a wink when I made the suggestion.” Spreading her hands out helplessly, she looked between the two of them. “They know what’s up and are rooting for you two.”

“Greaaat,” Hiccup drawled.

“It is, because it means that we can smuggle you in without a problem,” Tuff said, crossing his arms. “So say ‘thank you.’”

They had thanked the twins for their work. And now, two days later, all Astrid felt was a deep sense of gratitude and a good amount of anticipation, giddiness, and nervousness. If everything went as planned, Hiccup would spend this night with her again, and in her bed no less! Oh, if only it was that late already! She couldn’t wait to feel his hands on her body again, to kiss him and to lose herself in his touch.

But it was only mid-afternoon, with Astrid sitting at her decorated tea table, drinking tea, and nibbling at some light pastries as she waited for the hunting parties to return and for her private dinner with Eret to begin. And before she could enjoy feeling Hiccup’s closeness again, there was something else she had to do anyway.

Aside from making sure that they’d all made it back unharmed and wanting to be close to Hiccup again, she also couldn’t wait to tell them about the conversation she’d overheard. A part of her warned her to be cautious, to not get too excited yet. The idea of Hiccup becoming a full Count in only a few days, of him legally joining those participating in the tournaments and hunts to court her… it felt too good to be true.

Nervously tapping her fingers against the porcelain cup between her hands, she tried to imagine the reactions to her officially and openly changing her mind and choosing Hiccup instead of Eret. Would it be possible for her to ask her father to excuse Hiccup from participating in any fights, just to keep him safe? After what had happened to Eret, that certainly wasn’t an unreasonable concern, right? But would the King even support such a request? Would he support her choice at all? Or would it be better if she only made her choice public at the very last moment, not giving anyone even the slightest chance to take action against Hiccup?

For hours, her mind circled around those same thoughts, over and over, until a knock on her door drew her attention. Astrid heard a servant girl delivering a message to Ruff and it made her heartbeat quicken almost unbearably.

“Are they back?” she asked as soon as Ruff approached her and got up from her seat, unable to sit still any longer.

Her maidservant smirked. “Yes, they’re all back, unharmed, and Sir Eret awaits you for your dinner in about half an hour,” she replied in a ridiculously formal voice. Astrid’s lips twitched but she didn’t say anything and simply let Ruff dress her for the occasion, waiting impatiently for her to be done.

Walking along the corridors and down the stairs to Eret’s new rooms seemed to take forever. She knew that this distance served a purpose, one she supported wholeheartedly, but right now, the prolonged walk was driving her insane in her impatience. Eventually, Tuff halted in his strides though and turned to knock on a door to their right. As Eret’s only servant, it was Hiccup who opened them, the sight of him enough to somewhat calm Astrid’s unquiet mind. He was clearly happy to see them, his eyes nearly flowing over with love as they met her own. But there also was a certain tension in them, in his every movement, and after he’d closed the door behind them again, it became clear that Eret and Dagur were just as tense as he was, the atmosphere overall enough to make her forget everything else.

“What happened?” she asked anxiously, looking around from one man to the other. In a corner, she spotted a table set for two even though it was laden with enough food to last at least twice as many people. But where before she’d been looking forward to this informal meal with her brothers and Hiccup, she now couldn’t even think about eating anything.

“Nothing, really,” Eret eventually mumbled, looking up from where he sat on his bed’s edge. Astrid wanted to scoff at this obvious lie, but he lifted his hand to directly ward off her protest. “Nothing that changes anything, at least. It’s just been… let’s say, it’s been a rough day.”

Astrid still wasn’t inclined to let the topic drop, but before she could demand a more thorough explanation, Dagur already jumped in.

He was sitting backwards on a chair, his arms crossed over the backrest, but she suspected that he was still ready to jump in case Eret needed help. “A new rumour was spreading like wildfire during the hunt,” he grumbled, shaking his head in annoyance. “The rumour that… well, that Eret and I are more than just close friends since our childhood and that the whole betrothal is nothing but a charade to cover for us.”

Astrid could do little more than gape, her eyes wandering from Dagur to Eret and back again. They both looked heartbroken, hunched over and with their arms defensively crossed in front of them.

“Okay, but why’s that a problem?” Tuff commented after a few more uncomfortable seconds had passed. “I mean… it’s true? And it’s not as if that’s unheard-of; we have Freyr’s male Ástir for a reason, after all.”

With a heavy sigh, Eret raised his head to look at Tuff. “You’re right, it shouldn’t be much of a problem. But that didn’t make this day any easier. Every time we encountered some of the other men in the woods, they made comments about how I should be ashamed of myself for leading the Princess on like that. That I should openly stand to my preferences and tell her the truth, decline her choice, and leave her to someone who can truly satisfy her.”

“That’s a nice way to describe their insults,” Dagur scoffed angrily, but Eret just shrugged.

“It’s what it all boiled down to,” he replied, sounding tired. “And they’re right. I mean... Aside from Hiccup and this charade of a betrothal not being real anyway… It could have become real. And they would’ve been right; you’d deserve better than that, Swanja. Better than me.”

With the lump forming in her throat making it hard to say anything, Astrid made the few steps to cross the distance between them and sat down next to Eret on his bed. She wasn’t sure whether she was even capable of comforting him right now, but she at least had to try.

“Hey, don’t say that,” she said softly, reaching to squeeze his hand. “I… When I agreed to marry you, I knew about all this, remember? So whatever they said, it’s nothing but bullshit. And no matter how things are now… I rather would have spent my life with you, as my partner and best friend, than with any of those idiots who only see me as a trophy to be added to their glory.” Imagining a life where Hiccup didn’t exist felt weird. Wrong! But she also knew that what she’d just said was true. If it wasn’t for Hiccup, she would have gladly married Eret.

She wasn’t sure whether her words were able to help him though, or whether they would only make it worse instead. But after a short pause, Eret squeezed her back. “Thanks,” he muttered with a weak smile. “I just… well, I just hope that whoever Father might eventually pick as my wife will think the same. So maybe it’s even good that this cat is out of the bag now. It means whoever it might be will know what to expect right from the beginning.”

To that, Astrid wasn’t able to say anything. It was because of her that this was something to worry about again, and there was nothing she could do to help him there. But instead of letting the awkward silence linger, Eret shook his head and put on an almost scarily dark expression.

“But that’s not really the problem here,” he went on in a far graver voice than before. “The question is who started this ‘rumour’. And why now?” He motioned for her to sit down at the set table, gladly accepting her help to get up himself without straining his bound chest too much.

“Could it have been Heather?” she asked as she sat down on her seat, her worries over the other woman and how much harm she could do resurfacing again.

But Dagur vehemently shook his head. “That wouldn’t make any sense. That was a secret she would have wanted to keep, in her own interest. With everyone now knowing that I’m not interested in women, me producing an heir to get her and her child off the hook became just that much more complicated.” He sighed. “And I have no idea who else could be behind this, either. I mean… we tried to not let anyone know but it certainly wasn’t an ironclad secret either. Everyone could’ve found out.”

Astrid wasn’t entirely convinced though. “Are you sure? There were quite a few people who knew, after all. Could anyone–”

“Maybe,” Eret interrupted her, though directly contradicted himself by shaking his head. “But I don’t think anyone here started that rumour, and I can’t see why Cami would do so, either.” He paused, taking a deep breath, before he continued in a darker tone. “And I don’t want to suspect Snot. He’s acting weird, but… we still know him, right? And I don’t see why he’d do it anyway. Certainly not to separate us; he knows that you know, after all. No, I don’t think he would go behind our backs like that. Especially not with him still being not allowed to get up anyway. He didn’t even have the chance to spread such a rumour without it being too easy to trace it back to him. Anyway,” he went on, noticeably aiming to change the topic and mood to something more cheerful. “People know, and we’ll have to deal with it from now on. Which doesn’t really change anything; it’s just annoying.”

Dagur huffed. “Yeah. Just as annoying as your grandfather making the effort to come and meet you this morning only to yell at you two. I’m just glad this circulating rumour hadn’t reached him yet. But who knows? Maybe he’ll have a heart attack once they do. That would make so many lives easier.”

At the mentioning of his grandfather, Eret winced and threw an apprehensive and apologetic look to the side – or, more precisely, to where Hiccup was leaning against the wall next to her. Astrid turned too, and easily spotted the pained grimace that crossed Hiccup’s face. Their grandfather… As far as Astrid knew, this had to have been the first time Hiccup even met the old goat with the old man also knowing who Hiccup was. And judging by his reaction, it hadn’t been a pleasant meeting.

Without even thinking about it, she reached for his hand, letting her thumb glide across his knuckles in a way to comfort him. “What did he want?”

Hiccup seemed to appreciate the gesture, squeezed her hand in his and even let something of a weak smile tug at his lips before he said anything. “He scolded Eret for choosing what had to be the worst squire in history,” he said in a low, but clear and almost emotionless voice. “‘It obviously was the fault of that failure that your armour wasn’t in a good-enough state to deflect the blow like good chainmail should. That idiot might as well have tried to kill you himself and he should get executed for his sloppy mistakes.’” he quoted, and let out a harsh laugh. “He didn’t even deign to look at me or to talk to me directly.”

“And just like the old pigheaded asshole he’s always been, he didn’t even listen when I explained that that had only been my decorative armour anyway,” Eret grunted bitterly. “In opposition to all these noblemen who came here because your Father invited them and who knew about the upcoming tournaments, I didn’t bring my heavy battle armour from Eastervale when we came here last fall. That piece of ceremonial chainmail I was wearing was never meant to withstand such a blow, and we didn’t expect… Oh, whatever. He didn’t even want to listen to any of that anyway.”

“Yeah. You said that it wasn’t your good chainmail, and his response was ‘And whose fault is that!?’” Hiccup added, sounding pained.

“My father’s,” Astrid murmured.

Eret shrugged. “Yes and no. It’s not like we should have expected the armoury here to have chain in my size.” He flexed sarcastically, showing off his physique, and Astrid had to agree with the point; Eret was taller and broader in the chest than most men. “But let’s be honest here. This wasn’t about me,” he continued. “This was about him being upset that all of his dynastic game moves almost got wasted because his last playing piece got a dent. He wasn’t doing it to listen to anybody, just to vent his frustration that we’re not doing what he wants us to do, like good pawns.”

“Well, he never listens, does he?” Tuff threw in, mirth saturating his voice. “Although I’d love to make him listen, especially if someone told him about you and Dagur. Loki, I’d love to see his face.” He shared a dark grin with his sister, but quickly turned serious again, his gaze shifting to Astrid again.

“Anyway,” he went on, the changed tone of his voice and expression on his face showing that he was about to start an entirely different topic. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to tell the others, Astrid?”

For a heartbeat or three, she just blinked at him in puzzlement. But then, her mood brightened. “Right! There’s something I have to tell you,” she exclaimed at the reminder. The dark atmosphere had distracted her when she’d arrived, had made her focus on her friends’ – no, her family’s – problems instead of what lay ahead of them. But now, it was all back at the forefront of her mind.

Eagerly, she turned to look at the others again, her hand still holding Hiccup’s squeezing him. “I was lucky this morning,” she began, cheeks heating with excitement. “Tuff and I overheard a conversation between your fathers,” she nodded at Eret and Dagur. “Something about Ravenledge – the county, not the man. Apparently, the man who was supposed to become the new Count resigned – because it was too difficult a job for him, or something – and now, it’s back in the hands of Uncle Oswald and my father. If we can convince them to install Hiccup in that position, then that would be the solution, wouldn’t it?”

At first, all three men just gaped at her. They seemed to need a few moments to wrap their heads around this news, but Astrid couldn’t blame them; she was hardly able to believe in this simple solution either. And that was after she’d already had hours to think about it all.

“That… that could actually work,” Eret eventually muttered after a seemingly endless pause, something like cautious optimism swinging in his voice. “If Hiccup becomes a count, he automatically should become eligible for you, too. The only question is how we can convince them to–”

“I can use my boon for that,” Astrid interrupted him. Her gaze darted up to Hiccup, eyes filled with excitement. He knew that she was more than willing to use her father's promise in his favour. This was the solution they’d been searching for!

Hiccup was looking at her in return as well, but with a somewhat wavering expression instead of the hope she’d expected to see. As if he wanted to let that hope take over but didn’t quite dare to accept it.

Dagur seemed more confused though. “Uh, what boon?”

It took her some effort to tear her eyes away from Hiccup, from assuring him that this could work, and look at Dagur instead. “After… after Harold’s execution, my father granted me a wish,” she explained, grimacing at the renewed reminder. “A royal boon. He said I just need to name what I want and as long as it’s within his power, he’ll grant it to me. And I don’t see why naming Hiccup the new Count Ravenledge would not be in his power. Odin, from how it sounded, they even expected to have trouble finding someone who’d be willing to take this position.”

Eret nodded at her explanation, thoughtfully turning his attention to Hiccup. “What do you think?”

Hiccup’s eyes wandered from one waiting face to the other across the room. He still seemed hesitant though, reluctant even, and Astrid could read his thoughts as if he was saying them out loud. This is too good to be true!

She got up from her chair and turned toward him, heart singing when his hands glided around her waist practically on reflex. Capturing and holding his gaze, she tried to assure him that this was real. There wasn’t much to be misunderstood from the conversation she’d overheard, after all.

For an endless moment, they gazed at each other, silently communicating. Astrid didn’t need words to know what Hiccup was thinking and feeling, his love for her and the growing hope crystal clear in his eyes. He nodded ever so slightly, probably only visible to her, and his expression softened, his lips stretching into a cautious smile. “There was a time where I wouldn’t have felt comfortable with this solution,” he murmured, voice rough with emotions. Swallowing, he glanced past her to where Eret and Dagur had to be watching them. “I openly admit that I’d hoped to gain this title back when it was vacant a few months back. If… if things had been different that night, if I’d known you’d distribute the county right away, then I’d probably come up with some reason to stay. I would have tried to recommend myself as best I could, hoping…” He trailed off, his eyes gliding back to Astrid as he lifted one hand to caress her cheek.

She remembered that night, the first night she’d sneaked out to meet him at the stables. Missing out on those hours they’d spent together that night would have felt devastating back then… but if it had meant that he’d had that title already, it would have been worth it.

“But unrelated to that, I also wanted to gain this title, or any other, with my own means,” he continued in a low voice, his eyes back on her now. “ I wanted to prove myself worthy of you. But now, I know how stupid that was. Now, I won’t turn down such an opportunity. So yes, I’m okay with this idea. More than okay. I’d do anything to be with you, no matter whether it includes gaining a title without my doing or accepting any difficult circumstances that might follow.” He gave her a loving smile. “Because it will be worth it.”

From one moment to the other, Astrid felt as if every bit of space between them was too much, every thought about decency unimportant. Before she could think about it, she’d stretched, her mouth pressed to his and her hands on his back and in his hair pulling him even closer. This was it! They’d found their solution, the way to be together. This was really happening.

And it seemed as if Hiccup had accepted this truth now, too. He was kissing her back with equal eagerness, holding her close with one arm around her back and the free hand at the nape of her neck – still reflexively mindful of her hair as it seemed, but also unwilling to part from her anytime soon. From behind her, Astrid thought she could hear noises of amusement, chuckling and low voices talking, but she wasn’t in the mood to pay the others any mind. All she wanted to focus on was Hiccup, his body pressed so tightly against hers and his tongue dancing along her own, playful, teasing, joyous.

But it seemed as if at least one of those assembled in this room wasn’t quite as optimistic as the rest.

“When you listened in on my father and Uncle Eret,” Dagur asked, apprehensively but in a voice loud enough that it drew even her and Hiccup’s attention, “did they say anything about why exactly Lord Gregson resigned?”

Reluctantly, Astrid parted from Hiccup, though just enough to turn in his arms and give Dagur a thoughtful look. “I… don’t think so,” she said, her forehead wrinkled as she scoured her memories. “Just that there apparently were some reasons to it, but not what those were. Oh, and they said something about an… an elephant, but I don’t know what that was supposed to mean. Elephants are these weird animals in the Southlands, right? Big, with ridiculously large ears and noses?” She threw Hiccup a look and spotted his lips twitching. Clearly, he remembered how they’d looked at that book together, too. Especially the last pages.

“An elephant?” Dagur inquired, his brows furrowed. “That... Was that all they said?”

Astrid shrugged. “I… think so?”

But Tuff shook his head, drawing everyone’s attention when he pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning against. “No, that wasn’t all,” he said with a thoughtful expression. “I remember because it sounded so odd, as if it meant something completely different. So I memorised it to find out later. Lord Berserker said that ‘while it would make for a great white elephant, it’s getting the poor sap to accept it that’ll be the tricky part’.”

Dagur’s face darkened. “That’s what I feared,” he grumbled.

Eret cocked his head, clearly intrigued by his lover’s reaction. “What is it, Dag? Does that mean anything to you?”

Dagur nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. “A ‘White Elephant’ is something of an idiom we took over from the people of the Southlands,” he explained in a pressed voice. “It means it’s a… a trap, you can say. As in, they give the county to some rival they want to get rid off, knowing that the effort of rebuilding it will ruin them.”

From one moment to the other, Astrid’s good mood fell, her stomach feeling as if it was dropping down to her knees, not helped by Tuff nodding and mumbling something like, “When something looks too perfect, it probably sucks."

“So… so it’s not a sensible solution after all?” she asked meekly. All this had sounded too good to be true… did that mean it had been nothing but wishful thinking after all?

But Dagur shook his head, albeit reluctantly. “I… didn’t say that. I mean, let’s be honest, it’s not as if you have much to lose anyway. It’s not as if Hiccup would put some major fortune into this county or risk his high reputation if he wasn’t able to succeed.” He gave a harsh snort. “But I’ve read a few of the reports that came in from Ravenledge over the past weeks. The county really is in a horrible state. You’d have to rebuild the entire main city, along with some smaller ones, and that’s not even counting the long-term damage from the old count’s rule.” He started ticking off on his fingers. “You’d have to do all that without having the craftsmen nearby because they have no place to live or to work yet. And without being able to organise the work, because you don’t have any administration. Not even the Orders can be of any help with organising or manpower, because there are no central temples anymore. And in addition to all that, the people won’t easily trust yet another nobleman who comes to rule over them, especially not after Lord Gregson now gave up.” He shook his head. “I’m not saying it’s impossible, but...” He shrugged, looking grim.

Astrid felt the weight of Dagur’s words pressing down on them, noticeably dampening the good mood from only moments before. But before she could work through them and try to come up with reasonable objections, Ruff beat her to it. “Not trying to downplay the problems you just mentioned,” she said dryly. “But I think Hiccup and Astrid have an advantage your Lord Gregson didn’t have.”

Dagur cocked his head at her, puzzled. “And that would be what exactly?”

Ruff gave a snort. “Astrid is the Princess! It’s not just any other nobleman who comes to these people but the daughter of the King herself. That alone should give the people there a little hope, the trust that, this time, their problems get taken seriously. And I’d be surprised if the King wouldn’t send some more serious help in the form of goods and men and money when it comes down to ensuring his daughter’s future.”

“She’s right,” Eret threw in before anyone else could say anything, a grin on his face now as his eyes met Astrid’s. “And that’s not the only advantage you might have.” He took a moment to look from one to the other, his grin widening. “Remember what we talked about the other night? We might not be able to get Hiccup a title… But once he has one, we’re definitely in a position to support him. We’d still have to talk to our fathers, but I don’t think they’d be against drawing up trade contracts and assurances of support in advance. Hiccup might not have much to offer all on his own, but he sure as Hel has friends in powerful positions.”

Slowly, Dagur nodded. “That would make a difference, indeed,” he agreed, his face brightening. “It still won’t be easy, though. It’ll probably take years before something like normalcy or routine would come back to your life. Are you sure you’re feeling up to such a task and the responsibility?” he asked, his eyes firmly on Hiccup.

Hiccup nodded, though a little tense. “I’m prepared to take that kind of responsibility.” His eyes dropped to her, his lips forming a soft smile. “So yes. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

. o O o .

Oh, wow! Looks like there's an easy solution after all. 😇

Or... is there? *evil laughter in Author*

Next chapter

#FTLOAP #For The Love Of A Princess #Hiccstrid #hiccstrid fanfiction #fanfiction #httyd #httyd fanfiction #medieval au #Hiccstrid Medieval AU #royalty au #hiccstrid royal au #fluff #romance

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cat-vase · 5 years

Text

Tim has DID 2.0

This is a better version of this post

Before I start I want to say that I do not have DID!! However! I try to do my research and I do not want to promote stereotypes/misinformation about DID! But!! If I say something that’s otherwise wrong or offensive please please PLEASE tell me!!!! I will fix it!!!

There would be fictives because they’re incredibly valid but I don’t watch many things, so... I can’t do that. I’m so scared about posting this, the only reason it’s under a cut is because it’s long, tell me if I need to add any warnings or anything because I’m kind of blind to that sort of stuff, okay here it goes!

I don’t think they would have a system name because they don’t feel the need for one and they have awful communication (they only communicate through notebooks. Any progress they made was wiped out due to Marble Hornets happening), but it would be The Crescendo System if they did because music is important to them!

Timothy (Tim/(Patient)1621/MDCXXI):

The core and a host!

Is the same age as and looks like the body

Sad lumberjack aesthetic

Has DID (obviously), Schizophrenia, Insomnia, Depression, and PTSD

Used to have Trichotillomania as a kid but has since gotten over it, he still tugs at his hair a lot though

Majored in music in college! He likes string instruments the best!

Is the main alter who went through Marble Hornets

Is very good at hiding things

Panics at loud/unexpected noises

Forgets to take care of himself a lot (either that or he doesn’t care enough to)

Scared of the dark

Counting calms him down, he likes routine

Gay, in love with, and in a relationship with Brian!

Has a cat! Her name is Quark! She’s a brown Maine Coon!

Knows Latin due to learning it in Jemison Center (the mental hospital he was in as a kid)

He’s trying his best, but his best isn’t enough apparently :(

Arcane (Ark/Masky/MDCXXI):

Used to be a host, but isn’t anymore due to being negatively affected by The Operator

Has always been a protector, but now goes to the extreme and attacks anyone he sees as a threat (which is almost everyone)

Static eyes!!

Likes his face to be covered, hence the mask and Tim covering his face whenever he gets nervous/scared

The tan jacket is a comfort object for him

Also went through Marble Hornets. Even though he wasn’t fronting for the majority of it, he was affected the most by it (which is why he doesn’t speak much anymore and is so violent, hence being repressed now and force fronting a lot)

Gives off a very angry, feral forest cryptid/animal energy

Used to be a couple years older than Tim, but now doesn’t seem to have an age (ageless)

Oliver (Oli/Ollie/Olly):

A little (around 7) and a memory holder!

Is the only alter that remembers positive things Janet Wright (their mom) did

His favorite colors are green and orange, but he will throw up if you give him an actual orange (the fruit). He’s not allergic, the smell is just… bad

His actual favorite fruit is strawberries!

Very extroverted! Loves meeting new people! Incredibly optimistic and only sees the good in people!

Tries his best to be nice and please people, but this leads to him getting frustrated a lot whenever people don’t get what he’s doing

Hoards stuffed animals!

Scribbles on the walls a lot

Overalls and sweaters are comfy!! He also has glasses

Scared of thunderstorms (not just because of the loud thunder, but because of the lightning too)

Also scared of the dark

Hush:

A teenager, probably around 13

Another protector

His name is incredibly ironic because all he does is yell at and fight back against authority (unless he’s brooding because silence is nice sometimes but the world is still awful)

Can and will throw down and stab you if you yell at him

Would rather die than take their prescription medication

Lowkey an alcoholic and smokes because Tim does (bad influence!)

Very sneaky! He’s able to steal things incredibly easily and never gets caught!

Likes fire a little too much

Likes to climb and carve things into trees

Knows Latin like Tim does!

Likes to write down everything in journals he hides in the ceiling

Has a passion for music/instruments like Tim does

Is able to survive alone in the middle of the woods (and has before)

Would probably own a black leather jacket and chains if they weren’t poor

Went dormant after they got into college, but came back after Marble Hornets (once they were in the mansion). Knows absolutely nothing about what happened during that time

K.M.:

A persecutor, and possibly an introject of their abuser (Lee)

Doesn’t care enough to give his age, but is an adult

If it wasn’t Tim or generally being reckless, it was him who caused a scar

100% an alcoholic, and it’s incredibly bad due to the fact that they shouldn’t drink because they’re on a bunch of prescription medication

Will flirt with anyone (hypersexual)

Reckless, chaotic, self-destructive. That’s… about it

Samantha:

Cis girl (she/her) and a caretaker!

Same age as Tim, probably

Very motherly to other people

Has wavy, long, brown hair

She likes to play the piano and likes photography!

Exudes a very calming/soothing aura

Her favorite season is fall because of the pretty leaves and the steady rainfall and how it slowly starts to get dark out earlier

Loves Tim’s cat!

Favorite colors are pink and light blue

Has an interest in witchcraft/the Wiccan religion

When their nails are painted (besides black), it’s a clear sign she fronted

Likes to be outside and get flowers for indoors!

Tries to organize their living space when she fronts, and also tries to help with anything they need to do (take medication, take a shower, eat, clean or bandage any wounds)

Did front during Marble Hornets a bit. Mainly in the hotels whenever things were especially rough. She tried to make things a little bit better, even if she didn’t actually know who the man in the room with her (Jay) was

Latet:

Agender (they/them), ageless, no one knew they existed until now

Their name means “lurks” in Latin

They found out Latet existed due to camera footage in the mansion (they stared into the camera for hours with emotionless eyes, not speaking and writing down codes, before turning it off)

Likes their face to be covered with masks. Preferably black ones, but occasionally steals Ark’s and Ann’s

Unknown if they are mute, or just don’t choose to speak/hasn’t spoken yet

Unknown if they are the one who appeared in the ToTheArk footage instead of it being Ark

Eli (Bug):

Another little! Around 8 or 9!

Likes to be called Bug as well as his real name Eli because he likes the outdoors and mud and trees and gross insects

Will be found more outdoors than in

Has definitely tried to eat things he’s not supposed to (dead animals or just… things that are inedible like crayons)

Likes to be around people too, but less so than Oli

Rain boots, maybe a raincoat, and… probably overalls like Eli too, honestly, just a lot dirtier

Likes to learn about animals!! The more slimy and dangerous the better!! Weird, freaky, smelly plants are ok too!

Does not listen when people tell him to do things, and will throw a fit if he’s not allowed to do something he wants to do

Emily (Em):

Demigirl/nonbinary (she/they), a teenager (around 16)

Punk/scene, probably wears a jean jacket and definitely has a neon green pixie cut

Lots of bracelets!! Maybe Kandi ones?

Rebellious/doesn’t care, yet at the same time is productive?

More accurate description: is productive when she wants to be

Because she does want to help! I swear! But other times it’s just… too much work. No. She’s not doing that.

Follows her own agenda, which is either apathy or slightly chaotic, but hey, she’s more productive than almost everyone else, give her credit where credit is due

Also kind of likes to play with fire

Black nail polish is a clear sign she fronted

#marble hornets #Timothy Wright #MH Masky #.arcane #.oliver #.hush #.k.m.#.samantha #.latet #headcanons #headcanon #AU #unnamed au #.eli #.emily

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emotionallyconfusedpolyglot · 5 years

Text

Get those mf tissues ready. Things you remember if you're Gen Z

Diary of a Wimpy Kid

Ook and Gluk

Jetpack Joyride

iPods

Nancy Drew

Blue's clues

Drake and Josh

Kim Possible

Spongebob

Dora

Diego

Kai-Lan

Max and Ruby

Rolie Polie Ollie

Maggie and the ferocious beast

Angelina Ballerina

Sesame Street

Clifford

Bob the Builder

Caillou

Fairly Odd parents

Arthur

Suite Life

Dog with a Blog

The Berenstain bears

Teen Titans (and go)

Zoey 101

Ben 10

Atla (and Alok)

House of Anubis

The beer-drinking app on the early days of the iPhone era

Class of the Titans

Drake and Josh

iCarly

Victorious (nothing after that counts)

Wizards of Waverly Place

Chowder

Total drama

George of the Jungle

Totally Spies

What's new Scooby Doo

Scooby Doo : Mystery incorporated

Babar (the old one)

Emily Young

Daniel Cook

Are we There yet? (MF Nat Geo. The things this show should have done for my generation in terms of geography knowledge. I'm going to fucking cry. I might want to be an engineer but kids' education also has a special place in my heart)

Unaccompanied Minors (the movie)

Are we there yet? (The movie)

Rusted Root - Send me on my way (google it, listen to it, see how many memories it turns up)

The Wiggles (when Jeff was still Asian)

Higglytown Heroes (I just rediscovered this while researching for this post. Multicultural animated anthropomorphic Matryoshka dolls)

The Koala Brothers

MTV top 50

Bruno Mars - Just the way you are

The Beijing Olympics

K'naan - Waving Flag

Calvin Harris - sweet nothing

Coldplay Vida La Vida

Coldplay - Paradise

Maroon 5 - payphone

Jojo's circus

Little Einsteins

Hannah Montana

Jonas

Good Luck Charlie

Detentionaire (it tastes the same as Mystery Incorporated)

Chaotic

6Teen

Bakugan

HotWheels Battleforce 5 (It does exist, there's clips of it on YouTube, McDonald's ran the cars for a series of Happy Meals toys, the world acts as if this never existed)

Teletubbies

Franklin (oddly, the episodes I remember as are the episodes that scared me the most)

Wonder Pets (morals. Morals. I approve)

The backyardigains

Miss Spider's sunny patch kids

Pokemon (around Galactic Battles era)

Winx

Elmo's world

In the night garden

Bratz

Lizzie McGuire (I know this exists, I had the game boy advance On The Go game and played it heavily)

Cars with the hand crank for the windows

Yo Gabba Gabba

Wow wow wubzy

Out of the box

Johnny Test

4square

My Babysitter is a vampire

That Fat Albert show

Rescue Heroes

George Shrinks

Harry and his bucket full of dinosaurs (His sister's name is Claire? I've come to realize that even though she kinda lives in her room, she plays with him on occasion. I'm not sure how much of a role she played but I am an absolute failure of an older sibling compared to her)

Imagination Movers

Postman Pat

Fireman Sam (I need another claymated wholesome British man to teach me about public service employment)

Big Time Rush

Popeye (the sailor man)

Shaun the sheep

Wayside

Handy Manny

Stoked

World of Quest

Adam Lambert - If I had you

[that period of time when Last Gaga was a household name]

Hedley - Perfect

Avril Lavigne as a person

Green Day - BBD

Jay Sean - Down

One Way (clap clap clap) Jesus

John 3:16 (said that God so loved the world he gave his only begotten son, so that whoever believes in him will never die but have eternal life)

Timothy goes to school

Fifi and the flowertots

That marineland commercial (there's a place in Ontario)

Eggo tunes commercials

House Hippo (Canada)

Concerned Childrens' advertisers PSAs Canada. (I'm not kidding, we need some of these back. Remaster them or remake them or run them raw, I don't care. These messages are invaluable. As much as we like to knock on anyone born after 04, I believe they deserve to learn what we did)

Discovery Channel (and it's Science spinoff channel)

Vsauce

Deadliest Catch

River Monsters

Bear Grylls

Survive This

Air Crash Investigations Mayday (this show introduced me to the concept of 'metal fatigue' which came in handy during robotics class)

How It's Made

Canada's worst driver

Mythbusters

The Colony (Discovery Channel)

Sears Canada

Future Shop Canada

Daily Planet

(Okay just go to YouTube and search up "The world is awesome boom de ya da)

Cash Cab Toronto

Destroyed in seconds

Dirty Jobs

Inventions that Shook the world

Mighty Ships (When some dude at Wonderland asked where my inspiration for Lego building comes from, I cited this show, this is the single strongest memory I have of it)

Monster Ships

The time when Guinness book of world records was relevant

Sharkboy and Lava girl

Spy Kids (If I could change history, I'd alter Sharkboy and Lavagirl to canonically fit within the shared universe of Spykids)

Pawn Stars

Monsters inside me

Rush Hour (Jackie Chan)

Jackie Chan in general

Shark Week

Smallville

The Zone, YTV

3rd and bird

Barney (and whoever created the violent version can screw off)

Care Bears

Thomas the tank engine

When it was announced that we'd be the first generation in modern history to die before our parents

There's probably a lot more but my brain is small

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joeymozzarello · 5 years

Text

unspoken passion

I’m writing about Tim Murphy but don’t get too excited.

it’s better if you have ‘just the way you are’ by billy joel playing on repeat in the background. trust me.

Dedicated to Madeline<3

I made this tweet earlier and this is basically what this is:

~~+~~

“Thanks again for this,” Madeline turned to her best friend, the tall redhead in a suit that didn’t quite fit him right. He gave out a chuckle, rolling his eyes as he fiddled with one of the buttons on his blazer.

“Stop thanking me, you’re becoming a cliché,” he playfully hit her on the back making her stumble slightly forward. He laughed. “You’re so dramatic.”

The wedding reception was lively and filled with people she either didn’t know or met maybe once or twice. At least this time she wouldn’t be stuck at the singles table again. Last time, it was full of sad girls who got drunk and tried to sleep with virtually anybody and old men who no one knew. She’d spent the whole night regretting even showing up. Tim’s gaze flashed around the room, eager and childish, biting his lip, probably eager to get on the dancefloor.

There was a lot of noise, this wedding seemed a lot more lighthearted than the last she’d been to but maybe it was because this time she wasn’t alone. Tim was always the one that made things more exciting for the both of them. The bus rides to museums were always filled with the music from his mixed CDs or he’d fill scrapbooks full of cut out comic book pages and he’d create his own so that she could read them on the bus. Things like that always made her feel better, so just having him here with her made her feel a hundred times better.

She and Tim made their way to their table, this time she knew she was going to be sitting amongst friends, not only was she very close to one of the bridesmaids but also anyone Tim met ended up being his friend by the end of the night so it wouldn’t be nearly as awkward as it usually was. She’d just let Tim take the lead, do most of the talking and if necessary she’d crack a few jokes or ask a few questions but mainly, the only thing she was there to do was support her friend. Who just got married. She must be here somewhere, my friend, uh, Marie--no Joan, wait--

“Tim,” Maddie said lowly, her eyes wide and her cheeks getting slightly redder as time went by. Tim turned to her, eyebrows raised. “Whose wedding is this?”

He burst out laughing, she hit his arm, trying to get him to stop so that not too much attention would be drawn to them. “It’s one of your friends! How am I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know, Timothy, I've been to so many lately I’m losing my mind!”

“This is so funny.”

“Piss off,” she rolled her eyes. “Do you know or don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” he said smugly, her face lit up, happily, that only made him giggle. “That doesn't mean I’m gonna tell you, there’d be no fun in that!”

“This isn’t fun,” she pushed him, barely doing anything at all.

They got to the table and the first thing Tim did was shake hands with everyone there. He introduced himself, smiled, cracked a few jokes and all she could do was stand behind him and smile awkwardly. She spotted her friend, the bridesmaid, and her shoulders relaxed. “Lyn!” She shouted making Lyn look up and smile. Lyn was tall and skinny and naturally a model, she probably worked with Calvin Klein or something at the moment, Maddie couldn’t keep up.

Tim turned slightly, looking at Lyn as she budged past lots of different people with the brightest smile on her face. Tim was intrigued, he didn’t make it obvious but something about his body language made Maddie raise an eyebrow. “You’re drooling,” she scoffed. Tim jumped out of his skin and shook his head, pretending he had no idea what she was talking about.

“OMG, Maddie! I haven’t seen you in so long! How have you been?” Lyn pulled her into a hug, and Maddie happily accepted. Lyn was one of those people that connected with anyone through touch. She would take any opportunity to let you know that she’s supporting you and listening to and stuff like that. She was an overall nice person.

“I’ve been good! I saw you on a billboard last week, thought I was going crazy! You’re super popular now, we’re a long way from high school!” Maddie giggled, everything about her tone hinted at the fact that generally, she wasn’t being genuine, as much as she like Lyn, she found her a little annoying, everything with her sounded like a competition, so Maddie always had to lay down the compliments to avoid it getting annoying. Maddie turned to the overgrown boy next to her whose eyes were wide and stupidly pretty. “Tim, this is--”

“Lyn Carter,” Tim breathed. He shook himself out of his trance. “I’m a huge fan of your work, I saw what you did for all of those charities and your expedition to plant new trees in the rainforest, I really, really love what you do for the environment,” he shook her hand, her smile got brighter, a little shocked.

“That’s nice to hear, Tim, what do you do?”

“I’m a palaeontologist. I study dinosaurs,” he scratched the back of his head nervously, a blush rising on his cheeks. Madeline’s eyebrows knitted together and she cleared her throat.

“Should we sit?”

Tim spent about an hour babbling to Lyn about the environment and basically spitting out any facts he knew or could remember, debating them with Lyn and they went back and forth for ages. Sometimes he’d turn to Maddie and rub her shoulder with a smile and ask if she was okay, to which Maddie only smiled and nodded back. In truth, she was bored out of her mind. She wasn’t even really listening to what they were saying, she’d spaced out then minutes in and had only really spoken to Mr H, the old man sitting opposite her, she’d asked him to pass her the salt because he’d been hogging and she’d been waiting for ten minutes.

Tim’s hand on her shoulder took her out of her trance, he’d stood up. He leaned down and with a smile, he said he was going to the bathroom and gave her a quick and innocent kiss on the cheek. She didn’t know why, this rarely happened but in the moment she didn’t really think much of it.

Lyn watched Tim leave with a smile on her face and Maddie rolled her eyes. As soon as he was out of sight, Lyn squirmed and moved up onto Tim’s chair and sat next to Maddie. “Oh, my God, Mads,” she blinked with a huge grin, her mouth slightly open. “What have you done to this guy?”

Maddie deadpanned for a minute. She wasn’t processing what Lyn had just said, it didn't make any sense. “Pardon?”

“He’s literally obsessed with you, I don’t know what you did to this man but he’s completely enchanted by you,” Lyn giggled at Maddie’s expression. “Do you seriously have no idea what I’m talking about?”

Maddie thought about it. Tim and Lyn had been talking for an hour straight, not once to her directly, she basically felt ignored most of the time, and pitied every time Tim checked up on her. This didn’t feel like Tim was enchanted by her, mainly like he was just doing her a favour and was having a good time without her.

“Okay, let me lay it down for you--” Lyn cleared her throat, turning around to make sure he wasn’t coming back yet. “Tim brought your name up in the conversation every two sentences, he told me about fourteen stories about your childhood together, showed me a picture of you and him holding some award he won and literally zoomed in to your face to comment on the colour of your eyes. If that ain’t love,” she laughed.

Madeline didn’t say anything. She kept opening her mouth but nothing was coming out, it just felt like a rush to the head, none of it made sense. She felt a bit like she needed to chuckle or brush it off as if it were a joke but Lyn’s eyes didn’t have a trace of humour in them, just a gleam that showed some sort of glee at this discovery. “Tim isn’t in love with me,” was all Maddie could muster up. Her voice was quiet and cracked slightly and suddenly she was begging to feel a little lightheaded.

“And don’t even get me started on you and your green eye,” Lyn laughed.

“My eyes are blue,” Maddie said, confusion covering every inch of her face.

“I meant your jealous little remarks and faces! Girl, you’ve got it and you've got it bad!” Lyn pushed her shoulder playfully and Maddie didn’t move.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t have anything!”

That’s when she saw Tim coming back from the bathroom, childishly pulling his trousers up and trying to frantically tuck his shirt into his pants before getting to the table. Lyn followed Maddie’s gaze and mouthed ‘here he comes’ before she moved back to her own seat and begun tucking into the food she hadn’t gotten a chance to eat yet.

Once Tim joined them once again, he didn’t sit, he just placed both of his hands on the back of Maddie’s chair and leaned forward to whisper in her ear, a crooked grin on his lips. “Wanna dance?”

Lyn choked on her food, making both of them look up and all she did was laugh and hold up two thumbs. Maddie’s stomach dropped and she swallowed slightly, suddenly feeling very nervous. All she did was hum back and stood up, Tim’s hand snaked around her waist as he lead her to the dance floor.

The light was blue, it felt like a school dance, barely anyone was in the middle dancing although there were a few couples scattered around the sides, gently swaying to the mellow melody of the music, Maddie suddenly felt watched.

Don't go changing to try and please me

You never let me down before

Don't imagine you're too familiar

And I don't see you anymore

They got to the middle and Tim had a slight flush on his face as he placed his hands on her hips, biting his lip slightly, his usual smugness somehow washed away and now it was just him, vulnerable in front of her. She wrapped her arms around his neck so that their faces were really close to each other and she just watched his eyes as they seemed to scan her face. You always have my unspoken passion

Although I might not seem to care

Maddie cleared her throat. “Billy Joel, huh? This really is a wedding,” she chuckled awkwardly, Tim’s eyes flashed from hers to her lips and Maddie was looking over that fact, too anxious to think about any unspoken feeling that she may or may not have bottled up over the course of almost twenty years.

I don't want clever conversation

I never want to work that hard

I just want someone that I can talk to

I want you just the way you are

In that moment, Tim’s head ducked down and he kissed her. Maddie was caught back, completely shocked and for a moment she didn’t move. As he slowly pulled away and looked at her with what seemed like fear in his eyes--fear of having ruined something or completely misread the situation--Maddie just watched him for a couple seconds. They didn’t move. Then something came over her, something that had been hiding for so long, something that needed to be let out. With one glance at his lips, she pulled his head back down and reconnected their lips.

Memories flashed in her mind of sleepovers when they were younger and him waking up in the middle of the night sweaty and screaming and she’d have to comfort him and lull him back to sleep, his head on her chest and her hands in his hair, or memories of when she’d wear long sleeves in the summer just so Tim didn’t feel weird about being the only one, because she’d never wanted him to feel embarrassed about his scars or left out. She thought about when he comforted her when her first boyfriend dumped her so Tim took her out for ice cream at two am and talked her down to the point that she fully forgot she’d been dumped.

That was them, they were always there for each other, no matter what, when Tim was down, Maddie lifted him up and same goes for the other way around. Maddie had never really thought about anything else but really, it was there. She loved him, always had and in one way or the other something in her knew this would happen and as much as it came as a shock--it just felt right. Perfect.

And in that moment, that’s all that she needed. No more overthinking or anything. In that moment, it was just them two.

No one else.

As the song played, the night went on and it was perfect.

I need to know that you will always be

The same old someone that I knew

What will it take till you believe in me

The way that I believe in you?

I said I love you and that's forever

And this I promise from the heart

I could not love you any better

I love you just the way you are

#SORRY THIS WAS SO CHEESY AND CLICHÉ #IM A SUCKER FOR ROMANCE #joe mazzello #joe mazzello au #tim murphy #joseph mazzello #joeymozzarello #sorry again for all the cheese #thanks for reading #hope you enjoy #jurassic park

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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Warrior Nuns Through TV History

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

TV nunning is a broad church. Sometimes, it’s all gunfire, demon-dissolving punches and running through walls, as in Netflix’s latest comic book adaptation Warrior Nun. In that show, a mystical artifact gives a non-believing teen superpowers passed down the generations from holy sister to holy sister. Defeat the demons, protect the world, praise the Lord, and so on.

Other fictional TV nuns lead quieter, more cake-focused lives, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t also fighters. You might say that like superheroes, not all warrior nuns wear capes. You’d be wrong – nuns definitely wear capes. They’re called mantles and though roomy and practical, likely represent a significant time commitment with regard to ironing.

Warrior Nun‘s superpowered teen follows in the echoey footsteps of a whole conventful of fictional TV nuns remembered here – some good, some bad, some inordinately fond of biscuits, but all, in their own way, warriors.

Sister Mary Loquacious in Good Omens (2019)

Played by: Nina Sosanya

Allegiance: Satanic nuns of the Chattering Order of St Beryl

Warrior level: Novice

Weapon of choice: Infantilising baby talk of hoofikins and widdle demonic tails

Specialism: Biscuits with pink icing

Most likely to say: ‘Fancy me holding the Antichrist! Counting his little toesy-woesies!’

Getting into heaven? Absolutely not

Demon Crowley and angel Aziraphale may have been Good Omens’ major players, but Sister Mary Loquacious kicked off the whole mess by accidentally confusing the infant Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness with the human child of a couple from the Oxfordshire village of Tadfield. Easily done.

Sister Agatha in Dracula (2020)

Played by: Dolly Wells

Allegiance: The Army of the Faithful, St Mary’s Convent of Budapest

Warrior level: Intellectually? Top Tier. She’s Dracula’s ‘every nightmare at once: an educated woman in a crucifix’

Weapon of choice: Wooden stakes and double-barrel wit

Specialism: Scientific rigour and one-liners

Most likely to say: ‘A house of God is it? Well that’s good, we could do with a man about the place, eh sister?’

Getting into heaven? Ja, if she cared to grace it with her presence.

Unfazed, brave, funny and intellectually curious, Dutch-born Agatha put both her faith and folklore to the test when she took on Count Dracula, meticulously gathering research on his powers and learning the rules of the beast to try to use them against him. A true scientist and quite a woman.

Sister Michael in Derry Girls (2018)

Played by: Siobhan McSweeney

Allegiance: Our Lady Immaculate College/Rawhide

Warrior level: Untested in battle but doubtless lethal

Weapon of choice: Apathy, withering sarcasm and eye-rolls

Specialism: Judo (on Fridays)

Most likely to say: ‘Sweet suffering Jehovah’

Getting into heaven? I wouldn’t be the one to stop her.

You won’t find an ounce of sentiment beneath this wimple, Sister Michael’s dry disdain for the pupils at Our Lady Immaculate is expressed only through cutting remarks and declarations of boredom. Not a fan of priests, the French, love songs or… most things, she’s an authority figure for the Derry Girls. Every so often though, like when she turned a blind eye to Erin and co. distributing their banned lesbianism-focused edition of the school magazine, she’ll surprise you.

Sister Jane Ingalls in Orange is the New Black (2013)

Played by: Beth Fowler

Allegiance: Catholicism

Warrior level: Basically nil as she’s a committed pacifist, though she does punch Gloria in the mouth at one point for PR

Weapon of choice: Civil disobedience and the Good Book

Specialism: Activism

Most likely to say: ‘I was afraid nunning was going to be boring!’

Getting into heaven? Sure

As a young novice in the 1960s, Ingalls fell in with the bad nuns and got a taste for non-violent activism. A bunch of protests and a memoir later (full points for the title: Nun Shall Pass), and the church didn’t want anything to do with her, neglecting to cover her legal fees after she handcuffed herself to a nuclear facility, landing her in Litchfield.

Sister Harriet in Hunters (2019)

Played by: Kate Mulvany

Allegiance: Anti-Nazi, Pro-Quip

Warrior level: Top level. A highly capable operative.

Weapon of choice: Gun, blowtorch, you name it

Specialism: Threats of extreme violence delivered in the voice of a Downton Abbey marchioness.

Most likely to say: ‘I will set you aflame, child’

Getting into heaven? There’s some intrigue as to her real deal but she certainly seems to be on the right side of history.

This MI6 agent/Nazi-hunting nun from Amazon Prime’s Hunters is something of a Scary Poppins. She does an excellent line in death threats and action-movie quips. She’s deadly, has a shady backstory, speaks in a cut-glass English accent and is fond of biscuits. In other words: our kind of nun.

Matron Casp in Doctor Who ‘New Earth’ (2006)

Played by: Doña Croll

Allegiance: Sisters of Plenitude

Warrior level: Merciless eugenicist

Weapon of choice: Cat claws and science

Specialism: Incinerating conscious and begging-for-help human cloning experiments without a spark of fellow-feeling.

Most likely to say: ‘Who needs arms when we have claws’

Getting into heaven? Nah. Space prison more like.

The Sisters of Plenitude, healers on New Earth, may have called their work ‘the tender application of science’ but ‘the incredibly painful application of bastard cruelty’ better sums up their human cloning farm. This order takes a lifelong vow to help and mend, but clearly not to do no harm. And their hospital doesn’t even have a shop.

Abbess Hild in The Last Kingdom (2015-)

Played by: Eva Birthistle

Allegiance: Uhtred of Bebbanburg/the Lord

Warrior level: Advanced (but retired)

Weapon of choice: Dagger

Specialism: Throwing buckets of cold water on a sleeping Uhtred and sawing through the necks of dead Danes

Most likely to say: ‘I have killed, and I will kill again I’m sure, but hopefully not today’

Getting into heaven? Big yes.

Hild’s journey in The Last Kingdom took her from nun to warrior and back again. Rescued from attack by Uhtred, Leofric and Yseult, she swore to become a fighter and more-than earned the title. Eventually, her vocation called her back to the church, where she now remains as the Abbess with whom you don’t mess.

Sister Jude in American Horror Story: Asylum

Played by: Jessica Lange

Allegiance: Catholicism and the teachings of Monseigneur Timothy Howard

Warrior level: Complicated

Weapon of choice: Forced commitment to an insane asylum,

Specialism: Guilt

Most likely to say: ‘All monsters are human’

Getting into heaven? Bad things happened under her watch but she does try to atone

The head of Briarcliff, an institution for the criminally insane, Sister Jude is a complex character with a complicated trajectory. She mistreats, but is also also gravely mistreated.

Sister Monica Joan in Call the Midwife (2012-)

Played by: Judy Parfitt

Allegiance: Raymond Nonnatus, patron saint of childbirth

Warrior level: Yoda

Weapon of choice: Forceps and fey literary quotation

Specialism: Sniffing out and emptying hidden cake tins

Most likely to say: ‘My first responsibility is to ensure the consumption of this cake’

Getting into heaven? Hundo P

AKA the best Call The Midwife nun, and an OG resident of Nonnatus House ever since the BBC One series began. Owing to her advanced years and developing dementia, Sister Monica Joan is now retired from midwifery, but in her prime there wasn’t a birth canal in Poplar that hadn’t welcomed her up to the elbow. She’s highly educated and extremely well-read with an instinctive love of beauty, poetry, cake and Doctor Who, which makes her the patron saint of all our hearts.

Sister Sybil in Camelot (2011)

Played by: Sinéad Cusack

Allegiance: Shady but ultimately loyal to Morgan

Warrior level: Witch

Weapon of choice: Dark magicks

Specialism: Child sacrifice?

Getting into heaven? Nah.

When Uther Pendragon banished his daughter Morgan in Chris Chibnall’s 2011 Camelot, she was raised in a nunnery by a sister who was no stranger to the dark arts. When Morgan (played by Eva Green) returned to claim her birthright, Sister Sybil was the one whispering poison in her ear and teaching her how to channel her powers.

Sister Bertrille in The Flying Nun (1967)

Played by: Sally Field

Allegiance: El Convento San Tanco in San Juan

Warrior level: Negligible

Weapon of choice: Not so much a weapon, but her flight-enabling cornette was the big thing.

Specialism: As the title suggests, flight

Most likely to say: ‘When lift plus thrust is greater than load plus drag, anything can fly.’

Getting into heaven? Si señor.

A creation of Tere Ríos’ book The Fifteenth Pelican, Sister Bertrille was the fresh-faced nun-next-door whose cornette combined with the Puerto Rico coastal winds allowed her to fly in the 1960s TV series. According to Sally Field’s excellent memoir In Pieces, the whole experience was more drag than take-off.

Miss Clavel in Madeline (1988-2001)

Voiced by: Judith Orban & various

Allegiance: An old house in Paris/the Catholic church

Warrior level: more sentry than prize fighter

Weapon of choice: Education! (Read: day trips to the circus)

Specialism: Waking up in the middle of the night with a nagging sense that something’s off kilter with her young schoolgirl charges, then singing a song about it.

Most likely to say: ‘Vite, vite mes petits’

Getting into heaven? Mais oui

The headteacher at Madeline’s Parisian boarding school in the Ludwig Bemelmans’ books and their various TV and film adaptations, Miss Clavel is a kindly sort. She gives her young boarding school pupils warm moral instruction and generally manages to extract Madeline from the mouth of whatever tiger she’s crawled inside that week. Not ferocious, as warriors go, but kind and dependable.

Septa Unella in Game of Thrones (2015)

Played by: Hannah Waddingham

Allegiance: The Faith of the Seven

Warrior level: High Bastard

Weapon of choice: Wooden spoon and ignominy

Specialism: Torture and bell-ringing.

Most likely to say: ‘Confess!’

Getting into heaven? Not in one piece she won’t after what Cersei did to her

The Geneva Convention didn’t reach the Seven Kingdoms. If it had, then the supposedly holy Septa Unella wouldn’t have beaten Cersei Lannister with a water ladle and made her drink from the floor like a dog before parading her naked to jeering crowds around the city. Not a nun to mess with, unless you’re a Lannister.

Also-Nuns

Sister Assumpta in Father Ted (1995)

Sister Boniface in Father Brown (2013)

(Briefly) Olive in Pushing Daisies (2007)

Mother Superior in Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005)

Kassia the Byzantine nun in Vikings (2019)

Warrior Nun is available to stream now on Netflix.

The post Warrior Nuns Through TV History appeared first on Den of Geek.

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thecollinhartman-blog · 5 years

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Collin’s Coronavirus Thoughts

Corona Diaries

I know what you are thinking. It is Day 4 of the Quarantine and Social Distancing and Collin has gone so crazy without all the busy-ness of life that he is writing a blog post. And you would be absolutely correct. Like every other millennial twenty-something, I have a lot of really great ideas that haven’t quite come to fruition. By now I thought I would be operating a volleyball facility, or traveling the US in a VW van driving for Uber, or pursuing a PhD program in England while playing volleyball, or coaching a small college team in Southern California.

All this to say I’m a big-time dreamer and a mostly incredibly poor “executer”. I often mistake my busy-ness for full-ness. I have seven unread books on my night stand, I haven’t been grocery shopping in weeks, I never got around to painting the trim in the bathroom my dad and I remodeled, my phone hasn’t been at full charge since November, and there has been an overflow of recycling sitting outside my house from the garbage disposal and mattress I got for Christmas… and now it’s March. Welcome to it, friends.

Let’s start here: I stopped by my parents’ house this week to print something – which I often do because I have a lot of printing needs but haven’t ever purchased a printer. It’s nice because I can print some papers I need AND I can always count on cool ranch Doritos and a Mango Orange Crystal Lite…. that I’ll likely take one sip of, leave on the counter, and finish when I’m there 4 days later.

Anyway, here I am printing in my dad’s office and running late for a meeting (all because I napped for too long). I rush out the door of the house, accidentally leaving one document on the printer, pens and paper everywhere, and a cupboard desk drawer open. A few minutes later, my dad sends me a picture of his office, which was without a doubt entirely put together five minutes prior to me being there. The tone of his text is sarcastic but loving but semi-annoyed which I can handle. I spend six seconds feeling bad about my reckless and disorganized self until Hillsong’s Highlands comes on the radio and I turn it up. I don’t spend time reflecting on things that would make me sad, I’m a 7.

In the midst of my frantic printing and meeting prep, my dad told me he was going to call me “F-5”as my new nickname. By the look on my face, he could tell I was confused as to why. He begins to tell me that tornados are classified in F-0 through F-5 categories, with an F-5 tornado being the wildest in nature. My quick google search defines an F-5 tornado as the most “violent damage, homes lifted off foundation and carried considerable distances, autos thrown as far as 100 meters.” I think what my dad was trying to say is that my general way of life is to rampage my way through different spaces, groups, situations… often times in an assertive, proactive, somewhat wild, chaotic way and then just… leave (I think this how I drive too). Stop go stop go stop go. I go from this thing right on to the next without pause. I show up, jump out of my car, race to wherever I’m supposed to go, be (mostly) present there until BOOM, it’s a Monday evening and I’m in the Eagle gym, shutting off all the lights, gathering volleyballs, turning on the alarm, leaving for Young Life – all in an attempt to get there three minutes before it starts so I can prep items for the game I’m leading ALLLLL before being interrupted in the parking lot by a mom of a U11 kid who is reminding me (probably for the 3rd time) about the t-shirt they ordered and are waiting on. Following? Me neither.

In short – my life actually is like an F-5 tornado. I run run run from one thing to the next, filling my world to the brim with as much as I possibly can all until I arrive back at my house at 10:30 pm, gas light on, eat whatever I can find in the fridge before my head hits the pillow 4 minutes later, only to set my alarm and do it again.

I’ve been living my life like this for a really long time until…. well until Sunday when we got the news that school is cancelled, which means volleyball activities are all cancelled too, and Young Life gatherings paused and suddenly my wild Monday is WIDE OPEN.

This blog post / journal / diary is my attempt to articulate from my squirrel brain some things I’ve learned about myself in the last 48 hours since this craziness called coronavirus officially stopped my (and probably your) collective world right in their F-5 tornado tracks.

First, let me tell you about my day today paint a picture of how my world feels just a bit (LITERALLY ENTIRELY) different…..

1) I didn’t set an alarm and I woke up at 8:30 am.

2) Shortly after, I went on a quick walk to the nearest coffee shop and ordered a Misto: I am on my journey to black coffee and I just graduated from a latte to this half coffee half milk concoction (with caramel) and I feel accomplished.

3) I stopped by my neighbor friend’s house to say hello.

4) I got home, cleaned a couple things around the house, washed a couple plates in my sink, and went on a bike ride to downtown Boise where I enjoyed a takeout lunch from Whole Foods. I would like to tell you that I rode my bike home, but a friend happened to see me and my girlfriend (she is working remotely from Utah and visiting right now) saw us and somehow realized the journey completely uphill from downtown to my house on the bench might not be all that fun so we piled our bikes in her car and she took us home.

5) I took a 20 minute snoozer.

6) I got up and did some yard work outside, gathering pine needles from underneath my big backyard tree and finally broke down those big boxes that have been sitting outside my house for months and was able to fit them all inside my recycling can.

7) It started to drizzle so I came inside, crawled under a big blanket and read the first couple chapters of Prodigal God by Timothy Keller.

8) Kinslie and I then stopped by the store to pick up some things for dinner and I grilled some steaks and shared a giant salad and some grilled asparagus.

9) After a few girl scout cookies (they stopped by yesterday), we watched the last half of Ellen’s Game of Games and picked a movie on Netflix.

10) Now I’m lying in my (perfectly made) bed (because I had the time to make it) writing all my thoughts down in a word document wondering if I’ll actually post this or if there is really anything of worth that I’m typing. I think there is but not sure yet.

Well, friends of the interwebs, you might be wondering why you just read a detailed list of my day from start to finish. Here’s what I want you to know.

1) Upon arriving at the coffee shop, I had a cheerful silly conversation with the barista about what drink I should order as we laughed about me wanting to eventually enjoy drip coffee. We engaged in authentic dialogue for a few minutes and on the way out I thanked her for the drink recommendation.

2) Before leaving for our bike ride, my tires were flat so we walked them to the gas station and filled up with six quarters before we went on our merry way. I empathized with the Chevron employee as we talked about coronavirus and how it might impact our lives. I wished him well and went on my way.

3) While bikeriding downtown I noticed there are five…. FIVE… different types of massage or spa places between my house and Curtis, which is the next main stop light.

4) At Whole Foods, I asked the clerk their favorite pasta salad as she walked over and told me all about the 2 for $6 deal. I noticed the different textures of the floor and the neatly stacked chairs and how the vegetables were perfectly arranged in their place.

5) While doing yardwork, I stopped and looked at Kinslie as she was raking leaves into a pile. I went over and looked, I mean REALLY LOOKED into her eyes and noticed how the Irish green edges melt into a light sky-ish blue before meeting her pupil. I noticed the way she parted her wavy blonde hair and the way it fell just barely over the sweatshirt she was borrowing of mine. I noticed how thankful I was I had someone to share this day with and even more thankful for her idea to do this yardwork that surely wouldn’t have been started for maybe forever.

6) While reading, I noticed the way the soft sunshine pressed through my semi-open blinds onto my page and made the black ink pop off the page. I contemplated Keller’s words of Pharisees and tax collectors and a story of two sons on their journey of deeper understanding of God’s steadfast love and grace in the midst of their own struggles.

7) While making dinner I couldn’t help but take just a little extra time to delicately cut each cucumber and carrot slice with care as I heard sounds of clattering branches from my cracked window as dusk began to settle in.

8) And while writing this blog post, I can’t help but notice all the things I noticed in my own world for perhaps the first time.

While I can’t be sure what life will look like in a few short days, weeks, or even months, and while I’m not positive what my income will be, and what daily routines or rituals will be impacted, or how our schools and communities will be changed – I can be sure of this: I hope in the midst of my crazy F-5 tornado life that surely will be back in busy routine before I know it – I hope for a couple things.

I hope I can continue notice the little things. To notice the wildly interconnected, perfectly-timed, awe strikingly beautiful, crazy detailed, little details of this world like the way I noticed the lines on the fresh steaks as I pulled them off my garage sale grill.

I hope to breathe deep and see, I mean REALLY see the world around me, to engage in relationship in more authentic and honest ways, to stop for a moment wherever I am to truly connect with the people around me.

I hope to take my time through a home cooked meal, and to not be so filled with anxiousness and fear of the future and unknown that I my eyes are blinded to see the way God is working in and through my (and our) world, possibly even through something like the freaking COVID-19.

While I’m sure there will be more lessons to be learned in the next little while, I challenge you to take a couple moments to really press in and reflect upon the way this Zombie apocalyptic ish tirade is impacting your world. I truly hope in the midst of empty toilet paper shelves and hand sanitizer hoarders there is something beautiful in your world that you’ve noticed, too.

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