#and her being the most prominently featured person in his Mind Palace | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ginger-danica-snapps · 3 years

Text

Wheel of Time Fandom Week

Chosen Prompt: future/legend

Notes: Art and a short fic :) putting behind a cut line. Spoilers for AMoL. Well, really the whole series, but def. AMoL.

Deep into the Mountain’s of Mist, a man stood before a great structure. You could walk the surrounding mountainous land and find odd pieces of a previous civilization, but this structure shined with a newness and power that could only be wrought with the power.

He puffed on his pipe, the slight burn of smooth Two River’s tobac filling his lungs, and he tilted his head to take in the features of one of the large statues that stood before two towers. Narrowing his eyes he tried to remember if this was how he had looked before. The image of his past persona fleetly flashed before his eyes, but almost immediately left his memory.

It mattered not.

He was not that man anymore and Tarmon Gaidon was five years gone.

“Can I help you?” a young voice asked from beside him and he turned from his musing to find a boy and girl, obviously related if not twins, with the look of the Borderlands and both dressed in the pale grey that indicated their purpose among this place. He puffed on his pipe again and looked back to the shining towers, one black and one white, and the wheel between the first statue he had been musing on and another.

The other statue was equally large, but if he looked closely it looked like a piece had been added to the top of the twirling woman’s head. He snorted, Egwene’s hair had never been that full.

“They added to that one of the Mother. Said the balance was off, but we all know that the White Tower couldn’t stand the Dragon’s statue to stand higher,” the boy huffed.

The girl looked at her brother in irritation and opened her mouth to argue, but the man saw no sense in letting it happen. Rubbing at his chin he turned back to look at the children.

“I suppose she was taller in spirit if not in body,” he chuckled offhandedly, “Looks more like the Egwene Al’vere than that looks like Rand Al’thor.”

He offered the last as if it was the least important but both children’s eyes jerked to him with a wide stare.

“Did you know the Dragon and the Mother? Who are you?” the girl asked excitedly. The boy looked on suspiciously and if that didn’t remind him of the very beginning then he did not know what would.

He glanced back at the tall statues one last time and the wheel that was held by both the representation of the Dragon and the Mother as they had become known. No more the Dragon Reborn and the youngest Amyrlin to ever sit.

The first great feat after Tarmon Gaidon, created with Saidar and Saiden. He could feel the pattern pulse at the thought and he knew it would not be the last. This one itself was both awe inspiring and heart breaking. The wheel allowed none to enter but those sworn to one of the towers and bound by the oath rod. Somewhere deep inside stood the ter’angreal that had been used to raise women from one title to another and now it did the same to Asha’man.

All children who came upon the tower were now sworn to never follow the shadow. The other oaths were administered upon their raising to full sisters and brothers.

Whistling a little tune he turned back to the children, “It seems that you have company,” he murmured as he began to walk away as the push and pull of the one power moved within the weaves of the pattern.

The children seemed ready to argue but a ringing bell from behind the large wheel that loomed over a doorway began to ring and indicate that a traveler had come.

The children took off, obviously not where they were supposed to be, and a woman slipped from behind the trees to meet him as he walked away.

Min reached out for his hand and Rand let her take it.

“Satisfied?” she asked quietly as he took another puff and gave her a cheeky grin.

“It looks nothing like I did,” he said with a laugh and she looked back at the large imposing figure of the man her bonded had once been.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she responded, “Looks like Elayne got the middle part right.”

Rand choked and tried to look back one more time to see if she was correct. They’d moved too far into the trees and his curiosity had been abated well enough. They walked quietly for a bit. Rand enjoyed the feel of being close to the part of the world where he had been born and raised.

One day maybe he would go back. See Perrin and Faile and what they had done for their home. Looking out toward a small clearing he smiled. Not yet, though. Not yet.

Aviendha met them there, her hands folded over her red belt with her just swelling belly, and a patient look on her face. She had not had nearly as many problems channelling as Elayne apparently had during her own pregnancy.

“Are you ready?” she asked as Rand tossed an arm over her shoulder.

“I am appeased,” he said with a kiss pressed to the side of her forehead.

The weave snapped open to the private area sectioned off for the Queen of Andor’s personal use in the palace. They stepped through easily and Aviendha closed it behind them. Elayne looked up from her writing desk, crown perched on her golden hair to show she must have just finished court.

“I received notice from Sharina Sedai. She took note of your visit and sent a runner through a gateway. She said if you were going to visit the Grey Towers, it would have been lovely to have tea,” Elayne said with a grin at Aviendha, “and she would have loved a moment to check on the babes.”

Aviendha sniffed, “I am well taken care of. Her offer is appreciated, but unnecessary.”

Rand just thought Aviendha didn’t want to hear the woman who oversaw those sworn but not raised to the towers who showed the capability to weave together training between the Black Tower and the White Tower. Even he had to admit that Sharina Sedai was quite intimidating in her own supportive manner. She’d taken the position of prominence only six months after being raised to the shawl, replacing the Asha’man who had first held it.

Even he had heard the chatter through listening to Elayne speak with various Aes Sedai over the years that she would likely hold it till Cadsuane Sedai finally died and a new Amyrlin was needed.

Sharina Sedai was the only rumored name drifting from the Hall according to Elayne. When his wife was in agreement to sharing anything about the Aes Sedai that was. Most of his information actually came from Nynaeve when she felt in a sharing mood and he visited the still wild, but growing Malkier.

The last he had visited had been when Alivia had been sent as an Aes Sedai advisor to Nynaeve. He’d found his former wisdom strangely mellowed and introspective of Sharina Sedai’s rumored future raising to Amyrlin.

The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills and I still have leave to never speak of it.

Nynaeve’s voice had been so introspective that he’d actually asked Elayne and the woman had bit his head off so hard that he’d asked if she happened to be with child again.

“It matter’s not. I am done for the day and the children are waiting. Aviendha, will you be staying with us?” Elayne asked lightly as she stood and joined them.

Aviendha nodded absently and left Rand’s embrace to lope her arms through Elayne. Min joined them after a minute. The women walk away, close to one another, and heads bent to hear the other’s voice without carrying back to him.

He could have listened in once upon a time, but even now he was grateful to have lost the ability.

Rand watched them from behind as they made their way to the nursery. His heart full and his mind restful. He was just a man and even when the pattern reforged him and tossed him back out, a man he would just be.

#Wheel of Time Fandom Week #aviendha #elayne trakand #min farshaw #rand al'thor #Wot #Gingerwrites #Gingermanips

17 notes · View notes

raeality · 3 years

Text

Star Wars WLW Week | Day 4

Day 4 Prompt: Courtship Rituals

Otherwise known as "How To Court An Alderaanian"

Amilyn Holdo gets a lesson in Alderaanian courtship traditions. (~2200 words)

Amilyn is enjoying Aldera’s open-air market with the rest of her Pathfinding class. Leia’s mother, Queen Breha, had suggested they all do a little shopping before eating dinner in the palace that evening, and Amilyn is taking full advantage. She’s already purchased a new fuchsia scarf to wear at said dinner. But mostly it’s nice to wander through the stalls without a mission in mind. Alderaan is a beautiful planet, and its people seem to enjoy creating beautiful things. Amilyn truly loves beautiful things.

She runs into Kier Domadi at a stall featuring a long table crowded with carvings that look to be made out of real wood.

“Kier, what are these?” she asks the native Alderaanian.

He glances between Amilyn and the table. “You’ve never heard of lovespoons? They’re a treasured Alderaanian tradition.”

“These are spoons?”

Amilyn picks up one of the intricately carved wooden objects. There is a shallow depression at one end that could be spoon-like, but because most of the object is a long series of interlocking symbols that have nothing to do with silverware, Amilyn doubt it’s ever being used at a dinner table.

Kier smiles gently at her. He’s a nice boy, but usually a little too academic-minded for Amilyn’s liking. It does make him the right person to ask questions of at least.

“Most people hang theirs as decoration,” Kier explains in his future historian’s voice. “Traditionally, demonstrating both your skill in woodcarving and the dedication of time it takes to make such an object were necessary elements in Alderaanian courtship.”

Amilyn raises her eyebrows at him. “And what about these days? Does anyone still gift these?” There’s an interesting idea taking shape in the back of her mind.

Kier tips his head to one side. “There are dedicated artisans who make them now,” he says, gesturing to the owner of the stall. “And some people continue to purchase them to give to their beloved. Most married couples on Alderaan have at least one lovespoon hanging on their wall. In fact, I can show you a rather famous example in the palace later. The queen keeps the lovespoon the viceroy gave her when they were courting displayed in their throne room.”

Amilyn turns the lovespoon over in her hands, examining the way the polished wood flows from one symbol to the next without a hint of joinery. It would probably take a long time to learn the skill to make something like this.

“Thanks, Kier,” she says, setting the spoon back down on the table. She’s not interested in buying one, but knowing that Leia’s parents have one displayed in a prominent place is making her interesting idea a lot more compelling.

Amilyn is right. It takes a long time before she’s skilled enough to carve a lovespoon of her own.

She immediately finds a teacher back on Gatalenta to teach her the basics, and she takes to making practice pieces with every spare moment she can find. The problem is, she doesn’t have many spare moments. At first, Pathfinding and the Apprentice Legislature take up most of her attention. That’s not the worst because at least she gets to be with Leia while she’s doing those things. They grow ever closer as friends, and Amilyn tries not to pay attention to the way Leia looks at Kier whenever they’re all together.

But then Leia tells Amilyn all about the rebellion now forming against the Empire. And the pair find themselves on a mission to the Paucris System. They manage to warn the rebels gathered there of the Empire’s interest in their location just in time for them to evacuate. But neither of them can save Kier Domadi, that noble fool, who’d come to rescue Leia and ended up caught in the rebel station’s self-destruction wave. Amilyn is sad to lose a friend, and sadder still for Leia who is obviously devastated by Kier’s death. So Amilyn is the one who pilots them all back to Alderaan and keeps the Empire from figuring out just how entangled they are with the rebel cause.

Amilyn is also the one Leia leans on while she’s grieving. So she sets her carving aside to focus on teaching Leia skyfaring and eventually letting her know that it’s okay to smile and laugh again. By the time Leia is formally invested as Alderaan’s crown princess, she and Amilyn are spending nearly all of their free time together.

Once Leia teaches Amilyn how to drive a speeder on Coruscant, all bets on either of them actually being in their city apartments at night are off. They explore as much of Coruscant as they can while the Apprentice Legislature is in session. And Amilyn keeps trying to indicate her more-than-friendship feelings to Leia, but she’s more than a little scared of losing Leia’s actual friendship if those feelings aren’t returned.

And then, one night the two of them make a ridiculous bet. And in the chaotic aftermath of its execution, Leia asks Amilyn to kiss her.

So Amilyn starts carving again. She’s just starting to get competent enough to plan the actual design for a real lovespoon when things with the rebellion get serious. Leia moves on from the Apprentice Legislature so she can take over as Imperial Senator for her father. Amilyn can’t do the same for Gatalenta, but Leia helps her become a civil minister in the Alliance Civil Government. It’s important work obviously, helping to bring the Galactic Republic back from the ashes the Empire scattered across the galaxy. But it means she and Leia hardly have time for each other anymore as their duties pull them to separate star systems more and more.

Amilyn’s heart breaks when she hears about the destruction of Alderaan. She races to be by Leia’s side on Yavin 4, but their reunion is temporary. Leia makes it a mission to save the Alderaanians who were off-world when their home planet was destroyed, and Alliance High Command assigns Amilyn back to her ministerial duties. After a clever idea she had when the ship she was on is caught in a Star Destroyer’s tractor beam, Amilyn is promoted to captain in the Alliance Fleet and her life changes yet again.

She tries to keep tabs on Leia, but the princess of Alderaan is often deep undercover, or otherwise involved with Alliance High Command. They manage to send each other messages on occasion, but Amilyn feels Leia growing distant in more ways than one. She’s seen the smuggler at Leia’s side with the blaster at his hip and a glint in his eyes. Han Solo is the opposite of Kier Domadi in almost every way, but Amilyn feels the same desire not to pay attention when she sees Leia looking at him.

Eventually, Amilyn puts her carving tools away for good. She spends the ensuing decades focused on helping the Alliance and then the New Republic once the Empire has truly fallen. She watches from a respectful distance as Leia marries her smuggler and then has a son with him. But Leia still invites her over and introduces her to little Ben as “Aunt Amilyn.” Their friendship never quite recovers to what it was when they were girls together, but Amilyn isn’t surprised. For her part, she knows that she’ll always be in love with Leia. That alone puts a certain distance between them that can probably never be breached. But Amilyn is glad to have Leia back in her life in whatever capacity she can.

And when a new power in the form of the First Order rises and Leia asks for Amilyn’s help once again, Amilyn is only too ready to join General Organa’s Resistance. She’s put in charge of the Resistance Fleet as a Vice Admiral and she takes to her new command with pleasure.

But Amilyn notices a difference in Leia. And eventually she gets the truth out of her old friend. Her son, Ben, has fallen to the dark side of the Force. And Han is gone; their marriage dissolved in all but name.

Amilyn feels terrible when she pulls out the box with the half-carved lovespoon inside it, the dim hope that has remained in her heart after all of these years trying to flare back to life within her. She looks at the rough shape for a long time. Her fingers ache for the handles of her carving tools, and she can almost smell the peels of exposed wood as they curl back and then drop to the floor.

She shakes her head and puts the box away again.

“Amilyn, what is this?”

Amilyn turns from the pot of Gatalentan tea she’s brewing to see Leia holding up her failed attempt at a lovespoon.

“Ah… That.” Amilyn brings the pot over to the small table in her ready room and pours a glass of tea for Leia and herself. “I didn’t realize generals had permission to snoop through vice admiral’s belongings.” She says it lightly so Leia will know she’s teasing, but Leia still blushes.

“The box was unlatched, and I was curious,” she admits. She settles herself in a chair and reaches for her glass. She inhales the steam with a smile. “I do love this tea.”

Amilyn smiles back at her. “You always did,” she says. She takes a sip of her own tea before running a fingertip over her unfinished carving. “I’ve carried this all over the galaxy with me, you know, but I never have gotten the chance to finish it.”

“You made this?” Leia looks at it again with something like awe in her dark eyes.

Amilyn hums. “I did. And even though it’s not finished, maybe you can guess what it’s supposed to be?”

Leia sets her glass down and picks up the carving. She turns it over and over in her hands. Amilyn tries not to thrill at the way Leia’s fingers glide lovingly over the turns in the wood as though it’s a living thing she has to be gentle with. Finally, Leia holds it out in front of her, taking it in at one glance. She tilts her head.

“I’m not sure,” she admits.

Amilyn steeples her fingers beneath her chin. “The first time I saw one, I didn’t know what it was either,” she says. “I had to get Kier Domadi to explain it to me.”

Leia sucks in a startled breath. Amilyn winces. She shouldn’t have dropped Kier’s name like that without warning. Even decades later, his absence is a grief to them both.

But a moment later, Leia is staring wide-eyed at Amilyn, clutching the carving close to her chest.

“Amilyn,” she says as though she can’t believe the words that are coming out of her mouth. “Is this an Alderaanian lovespoon?”

Amilyn shrugs and gives the princess half a smile. “It was supposed to be. Once upon a time. Like I said, I never have gotten the chance to finish it.”

Leia touches the carving again, and Amilyn sees the moment she starts to understand the symbols Amilyn has been trying to bring out of the wood. The shapes are rudimentary, but identifiable: starships and speeders, a crown and a sword for Leia, twists like skyfaring silks and flames for Amilyn, and at the end where it all comes together is a shallow spoon-like curve in the shape of a heart.

“When did you start this…?” Leia breathes, not quite looking at Amilyn.

Amilyn’s heart is beating faster, and she tries to will it to slow down. She shrugs again, and takes another sip of her tea. “Right after Kier told me about the tradition,” she says. “I knew it would take some time to learn how to carve, so I spent a long time practicing before I started that piece. And of course I never had enough time to work on this one, so I couldn’t ever finish it. And if I couldn’t finish it, I couldn’t tell you…”

“Oh, Amilyn.” And Leia is staring at her now with unshed tears shining in her eyes.

Amilyn’s breath catches in her throat. Leia lays the carving down on the table between them and reaches for Amilyn’s hands. Their fingers intertwine easily, Amilyn’s slender and trembling where Leia’s are sure and strong.

“My dear,” Leia whispers, caressing the backs of Amilyn’s hands with her thumbs. “I’m not sure I deserve your love.”

“And yet you’ve always had it,” Amilyn whispers back. She can feel her own tears gathering in her eyes and she blinks them away furiously. “I have loved you all these long years, Leia, and I will continue to love you until the day that I die.”

“May the Force grant that day is long from now,” Leia says with a tremulous smile. “Amilyn, my dear, dear friend.” And she lifts Amilyn’s hands in hers so that she can kiss the tips of her fingers with soft lips. “Be patient with me if you still can. Stars know I love you too, but my heart has been so bruised…”

“I know,” Amilyn murmurs. “I know it has.”

Leia releases one of her hands to touch the lovespoon again. “May I have this in the spirit with which it was originally intended?” she asks a little shyly.

Amilyn blinks back more tears. “Are you saying you’d like me to court you, Your Highness?”

Leia dips her head and smiles. Her fingers tighten around Amilyn’s as she nods. “Yes.”

And Amilyn thinks she can fly forever on that word alone.

(Author's Note: Lovespoons are a Welsh tradition that I co-opted for this fic. If you want to read a bit more about them, the Wikipedia link is below.)

#AmiLeia #amilyn holdo #leia organa #star wars #fanfiction #writing #sapphic fanfic #starwarswlweek2021

18 notes · View notes

princekoo · 3 years

Text

goodnight n go | one | pjm.

pairing. single dad! jimin x female teacher! reader

synopsis. jimin was a single dad of three and one unfortunate mishap caused him to meet you: his best friend’s coworker and daughter’s teacher. will feelings of petty loathing develop into something more?

genre/prompt. fluff, angst

word count. 4.3k

content. jimin is a pole dancer and has 3 kids as well as is 9 years older than oc. even if they’re both well over legal age, if that makes you uncomfortable, please consider not reading. thank you <3

writer’s note. I deleted it originally because I was unhappy with it as I wrote it when I was younger and didn’t have much experience in writing and my approach to it wasn’t as elaborate as the one I managed to develop all these months of practicing. so! here she is! she’s longer and has less parts so you won’t be annoyed with the constant changing haha. an important thing to note is that the oldest son’s name Songyoon was changed to Haneul, the little girl’s name Sooyeon was changed to Eunbyul, and the youngest’s name Sanghoon was changed to Hayun as their names were too similar and made it difficult to remember who was who. There was also many major plot changes as well as small ones, so it’s somewhat completely different to the earlier version. Anyways! Enjoy :)

parts. one / two

The window curtains glittered under the moonlight’s loving, motherly kiss, this gentle caress closely similar to the unnaturally blond man’s embrace of a little girl–his precious little girl– in his arms. She was quite positively almost a copy of himself, down to his natural jet-black hair and plump, pink lips. The expensive curtains—most notably one of the most expensive things in the vicinity as what his little one wants his little one gets— danced with the wind let in by the open window softly, bringing the loud car horns and yelling of bustling city life with it. They’d been rendered to a simple ambient hum, considering how high up in the building they lived, however. The glitter scattered all throughout its length caused it to look like various constellations spread gracefully, causing his little one to refuse any other option that wasn’t it, unfortunately for his bank account. The neon lights of signs outside their New York City apartment, which would otherwise be annoying, entered only carefully tonight, as if to not disturb the gentle moment between the father and daughter.

“And so, the little princess was elated! The dragon had taken her to his cave filled with shiny little things all around, away from the princess life she hated.”

The raven-haired girl’s little eyes had shined in anticipation; the blonde man often mused it seemed like the night sky was trapped in her gaze since her birth, hence her name. She practically shook from excitement, her little brain unable wrap itself around how the princess pulled it all off so effortlessly! She didn’t know what to do with herself, so she clung to her dad’s silk night shirt as tight as her little fists would let her (which kind of hurt but he wasn’t going to stop her, he loved her too much to repress her). She liked to think of herself as close to that of a big, scary typhoon. He begged to differ with the more accurate description of the whirlpool one makes when circling their fingers in water repeatedly.

“The dragon taught her all she came to know! He taught her to read and write. Taught her to do basic things and they lived happily for just a few months. Then, the guards in the palace found her and came to get her! Do you know what they assumed, my beautiful little star?” Jimin had started looking at her fondly, the term of endearment coming out in their native tongue of Korean, accent prominently and endearingly laced in his English, soothing into every word he spoke. The nickname made her chest fill with warmth and her cheeks puff in reluctant happiness. No matter how many times her dear daddy would say it, it was her very own little term of endearment. Just for her and no one else. She loved it.

“That he was a big scary mean dragon! Right, daddy?!”

Jimin beamed at her intelligence. Then again, he does read her this story whenever she asks—and that’s nearly every weekend. He tickled her and held her tightly in his arms, her soft giggles reaching his ears just as the melodies he would dance to as a young boy would. Although he could still fit her in his arms, she was getting big. Give it two more years and he couldn’t do this anymore with her, hold her without difficulty and discomfort. The thought of such a cruel future made his heart sink a little. He had to stop himself often from thinking about how she would act when she became a teenager, it would be too much for his fragile heart to handle.

Jimin had always chastised her, as he was the only parent she had left. He took care of her and taught her valuable life lessons, sang her to sleep, and learned to make pretty hairstyles “just like a princess”, she’d say. He corrected her when needed as well as took on the role of both mother and father to her younger brother, Hayun (she preferred to call him Sunny after Jimin told her the meaning in English, which always made his heart melt), which was only a month old when their mother decided to pack her bags. Her older brother, although still a junior in high school, helped as much as he could to alleviate the toll that taking on both roles took on Jimin.

He was a great father, as one wouldn’t really expect. He was the right mixture of incredibly compassionate, well-humored, and empathetic with a dash of sternness to go along with it. He wasn’t a tyrant ruler, he listened to all three–well two, Hayun hasn’t even been able to string together a coherent longer-than-3-words sentence, only simple sentences, as a toddler does– and implemented all change that was agreed on by the majority. He always tried to pay equal attention to all of them, although most of it went to her younger brother. She didn’t mind though, she enjoyed playing with her older brother, Haneul. Jimin always packed him lunch, even as he whined that he didn’t have to do that, but he always enjoyed when he did it. She knew, noticing he always left to school with a small smile on his lips after.

Jimin has to assume complete responsibility once their… “mother” … turned up one day and decided she wanted nothing to do with her kids anymore. After taking her routine every night visit to the bar, she found someone older. Wealthier. “Much more fun” and “like you used to be before they showed up” she also gracefully added. Not like it was his fault he’d grown up once his first child was born, unlike her. Always looking for convenient fun, never tied down to anything. Proposing to her would just be in vain since it’s not like she would’ve accepted marriage anyway. Even during high school, when she first had come to him announcing her pregnancy, he knew how little care she held for him. She always thought of him as harmless fun, a man on the side and he couldn’t say the same of himself. The first child was purely an accident, the other two was him desperately trying to convince himself it could all work out and she could change. After their third, he knew how wrong he was. He held feelings for her at one point, although, with time, it all disappeared. He could only hold feelings of loathing towards her at that point. She thought of the kids as nuances. She got sick of it. Sick of him. Sick of having just one person to kiss. She couldn’t be tied down, but just because he knew that, it didn’t mean it hurt any less. She’d left once Hayun was born, but Eunbyul didn’t know why. She always thought she didn’t love them anymore after seeing her mom with a man that looked uglier than her daddy for sure, but she seemed happy. Her mom said something to her before she’d left, looked at her weird, and screamed at her dad some more, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Often, she’d ponder when her mommy was coming back. Well, not like she could, anyway. They did move across the globe after, from Busan to New York, with no way to contact them. She didn’t mind not having a mommy for now, though, it’s not like she was ever home before anyway. It was always comfortable with daddy.

“Daddy! Please continue the story! Why’d you stop?! Pleeeeeeease…!” She pouted and looked up at him with those puppy eyes children knew to use when they wanted something to make their parents cave in fast in response to his hesitance to continue the story, her fake tiara skewing just a little to the side. One day, he’ll buy her a new one. One with diamonds and various other gems. His features seemed to light up and playfully mirror her own, his nose scrunching up as well. She, of course, as a sensitive, princess-y 4-almost-5-year-old, did not know how to differentiate someone being mean between someone playing, so she smacked him on the shoulder as hard as she could in her blind anger. Jimin yelped at the contact and sobered up, expression turning stern. Had she messed up? Did she do something wrong? Daddy’s face did the same face he always did when he was mad at her for doing something wrong. Eyes sharp. Lips in a straight line. Eyebrows drawn together.

“Eunbyul, you can’t hit anyone ever, you hear me? Especially me...” His voice was stern, but less confident as he trailed off. One look in her eyes and one could easily tell she was on the verge of tears. Why had the atmosphere changed so much? Why did the breeze still? Why was it so hot all of a sudden, but just on her face? Her tears were almost spilling out of her doe eyes, so his expression softened and panic flashed through his face. He had too soft a spot for her.

“...Not without expecting payback!” He announced out as a save and initiated a tickle attack by removing his arms supporting her back and wiggling them on her sides, causing a sea of reluctant giggles and laughter to erupt from her lips, tears of sadness now turned into ones of happiness. A wave of relief passed through her consciousness. He wasn’t mad at her anymore!

After he stopped tickling and her giggles piped down, he took her in his arms again and minimally rocked her back and forth again, attempting to continue the story. She gazed into his eyes. There, were two crescent moons filled with stars picked carefully right from the universe. They held warm nights of him wrapped in a blanket and always holding her in his arms while rocking her back and forth, looking back at her like she was his most valuable treasure. Nights of drinking lukewarm chocolate and sharing it with her while telling her countless stories he remembered or made up, her brother’s occasional snorting making her giggle. Those crescent pools of love staring right back at her with so much fondness, she couldn’t not trust him. He loved what he created with every inch of his being, even if she resembled her mother somewhat. She never felt so safe in any other person’s hold, even in Haneul’s. She felt safe and happy, sure, but not to the extent of her dad’s.

Pouting and closing his eyes as well as lifting his head up high in mocked snub, he opened one of his closed eyes.

“Well, if you’re done being rude, I’d like to finish this story for this week.”

A beat of silence went by as she looked at him with slight shame and tucked her head against his armpit. He sighed, breathily chuckled and shook his head slightly.

“You were right, princess. They did think he was a big, mean, and scary dragon that took the pretty little princess as his own treasure! The princess came back from getting berries just before the guards decided to kill the dragon!”

A gasp. A smile.

“She explained what happened and the guards decided to keep to themselves that they had seen the princess. The dragon and the princess lived what, my little star?”

“Happily ever after, right, daddy?!” She looked at her dad excitedly, completely engrossed in the story despite it being probably the hundredth time he told it to her since her birth.

A pause.

“That’s right, my love. The end…”

Although little Eunbyul understood simple Korean, she could barely speak it. Jimin planned on teaching her a little more down the line. Now, she barely understood some of the words, any longer than two syllables being too dang hard for her little brain to grasp at this late hour, right before her bedtime, but she didn’t care at this time. Not when his soothing voice graced her ears with the background noise only that of the far away beep of cars, the rhythmic rumbling in his chest every time he’s uttered a word soothing her to sleep. As she laid there in his arms, fast asleep, little snores leaving her nose, all that was in his mind was how he could never bear losing her.

He felt absolutely heartbroken and stressed, raising three kids on his own was unbearably hard. He loved them so much he had to look for a job in this new country. A job that paid well but let him work while the kids were asleep so he could care for them while they were awake.

He also made friends with his co-workers and shift manager, so it wasn’t too bad re-adjusting. They barely hired new employees since they had a very high criteria, so he barely had to deal with new hires that made his job harder. His kids are growing up, though. He knew that. He feared they would leave like their mother did almost two years ago, so he’d decided to enjoy them and raise them as well as he could while it lasted. He was scared they’d decide they were sick of him just like she did. Irrational since his kids shared a strong bond with him and each other, but valid.

Jimin got up, arms still wrapped around her, she was growing and he could no longer able to hold her like how he used to. He moved the covers to make place for her and gently laid her down, taking her plastic tiara off her head. Covering her and laying a gentle kiss on her forehead, tears dangerously threatened to spill. The moonlight hit his face, making his eyes’ shine intensify into thousand galaxies in his beautiful, soft chocolate eyes as he got up to turn off her mermaid lamp.

“Sleep tight my little universe,” he chokingly whispered as tears freely fell from his eyes.

An abrupt sound made way to his ears and he turned around, finding his sixteen-year-old son holding Sunghoon. Jimin vigorously wiped his tears and gave Haneul a weak and quivering smile. The boy moved to put down the toddler he was holding in his crib and turned on the mobile, then mouthed to his father if he was okay, used to him being bubbly and strong for them, though it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d seen him cry. He took the role of confidant, listening to his father whenever he let himself be anything less than closed. He always looked so small, like a little boy. It always scared him. This wasn’t his big and amazing role model of a dad, was it? The one he bragged about to all his friends and anyone who would listen? Would he become like that, too? Out of the three kids, he was the one who remembered his mother the clearest, having been fourteen. He despised her, to put it nicely. He was the one that got to see to the extent that that woman caused their father to feel anguish, he got to know what not being loved by his mother was like.

Nodding, he ushered his oldest son out the room, more unrestrained tears rolled down his tear-stained cheeks. No matter how vigorously he wiped at them, they’d come back anyway, so maybe he should give up on wiping his tears just as he’d given up on trying to make his relationship work. It didn’t help that Haneul was the spitting image of his mother, either. Haneul wanted to press on, to question him and help him, but he decided to leave it. Glancing at both of his younger siblings sleeping, he decided maybe some things were better left unsaid. He slowly made his way to the door and once he reached it, pat his dad in the back and continued to his room. As Jimin tried to control his upcoming violent sobs, he shut the door behind him.

He couldn’t do this alone anymore. It was too much. He needed someone there.

The cool autumn wind blew against Jimin’s cheek as he shook his hair to clear his fringe from his eyes. He brought his dainty hands into his jacket pockets as he puffed out air. While his breath may not have been visible, it sure as hell felt like it could be.

It was cold as fuck, to put it simply. Having a car would be absolutely beautiful right now, but circumstances really don’t line up with his wishes on the regular. He always kept forgetting to look into which car he would like best and to go purchase it, but the subways facilitated his route home and to work somewhat. His life would improve tenfold once he remembers to buy a car. He was very forgetful since there’s only so much he can keep up with, his brain take up with his three kids and problems. He could do that in the three days he had left, he guesses. Maybe tomorrow if he sets a reminder, even, would he be able to get a car. Before he left, he had saved up money for a living space able to hold all 4 of them and a mode of transportation. He could get rid of his subway card and buy a car or something, anything but dealing with the surplus of rats and drunkards at the time he used it. His credit wasn’t bad either, which could probably lower his purchase a little. His oldest used the same transportation he did, but he just wanted to drive his kids to school in the mornings and drop them off. Even more so, Eunbyul was starting school in just a few days, so he couldn’t afford to just walk her to school as it was half an hour away from their apartment building or even use public transport. It just didn’t feel right to him. All those cute hairstyles he planned on doing on her would be ruined by the time they got there.

Jimin kept pacing along the sidewalk towards the apartment complex where his kids are expected to be sleeping. Expected. It was 1:05 A.M., after all. A father can only hope his children listened well to him. He could probably assume Haneul was studying or something and the other two were knocked out, children being unable to be awake for very long.

He sighed as he scratched his itching nose and gazed around the well-near-empty streets, save the occasional drunk or workers of the same hours as himself.

Work was everything but slow, as always. Obviously, as an exotic dancer, he should’ve expected that. He really thought he’d made it clear to the manager that he had to be home early to put his kids to bed and give Eunbyul her first out of five pep talks before she starts kindergarten for the first time ever in a week, but maybe he didn’t remember. He’ll put his money on that, Seokjin was always preoccupied with everything in the club and the additional two other locations. Being a considerate manager and good owner is hard work, after all. His forgetfulness caused Jimin to be overbooked and end his shift two hours later than he’d requested. At least he was getting paid very well for that, anyway, so he had next to no complaints.

Checking his phone, he saw 5 collective texts from his friends, Yoongi and Taehyung. These were two childhood best friends of his, every summer when he would visit his grandma in Seoul he would hang out with them. They were both neighbors from Daegu and would go to Seoul for the summer for the same reason Jimin did which caused his grandmother to meet them. A chance encounter leading to a life-long friendship. Taehyung, however, moved away to become an art major at NYU and Yoongi had followed behind, falling victim to Taehyung’s prettily warpped descriptions of the city. He was a kindergarten teacher and assumed the same role in the states and Taehyung became a critically acclaimed, wildly successful painter. Taehyung actually had children of his own in his time in New York and his twins were the same age as Eunbyul. He, however, was married to their mother, and happily too. For that, he always felt jealousy, despite not wanting to.

Tapping the notification to see all the texts displayed, he saw Yoongi whining about the fact that the first day of school is way too close for comfort and Taehyung’s smiley face reply to Jimin’s own “i’m going home now, if i don’t text you that i’m home within 20 minutes, use find my friends to go after me”. Nothing out of the ordinary. He lived in a crime-filled part of town. He was saving up to be able to buy either a nice enough house close to the school or an apartment of the same caliber in cash. Mortgages seemed messy to him, in all and he was frankly scared to do it.

Now, Yoongi’s whining is normal, but now it has increased tenfold as the news of him getting an assistant teacher was broken to him. Yoongi felt as though the school was insulting his ability to teach by putting another adult in the classroom (they’d assured that he needed an extra hand in the classroom as there were more kids than before in his class–he called bullshit though), but nonetheless, all Jimin could hope for is that he doesn’t “accidentally” show up to class with vodka in a water bottle again. Not after what happened last time.

Locking his phone and walking faster, his longing for the warmth of what he liked to call his “luxury” apartment shining through and suddenly beginning to be extremely prominent which resulted in a whine of I-have-to-walk-like-five-more-steps-to-get-inside-so-life-isn’t-fair escapes Jimin. He stared ahead, gaze landing on the once-silver gate. It was once beautiful, but since the new owners bought it, they paid no attention to outside view, or so he was told by the old lady next door, Janet. They knew everyone went there for the cheap prices anyway, she’d sigh. He really had to move into a house or something. He already had the money for a nice enough house or better apartment where all 4 of them could live happily though his job. Maybe he could look for a house only a few minutes away from the school. Mental note: look for house around school.

Quickly opening and speed walking to the elevator, he checked his phone once again. More drunk texts from the absolute best friend that he loves so very much in this very moment, Yoongi. He really did take his devastation seriously, as he shared a selfie with him and vodka with a text after saying “my news befrenddf!!!!!!!!”. Jimin let out a huff of amusement and disbelief. The man was almost in his late 30s and he still acted like he could be the age of his students.

The unlocking to the apartment was bittersweet. Suppressed memories always seemed to float into his conscious one by one when coming through the door, when silence and darkness met him. That house of cards-like mirage he’d fabricated all on his own tormented him because how could he be so stupid and naïve to believe two children would fix their doomed relationship. He was never happy, not after she barely showed up at home after giving birth. Not after she’d come home often with the stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and sex on her. She was the one who could never be a parent. The one that selfishly left when offered money and riches. The one who didn’t even think twice about accepting the offer. The one that left him for a richer man despite their various kids. The one he’d had to lie to his daughter about when asked of. The one that never thinks of her own kids and has started a new life with brand new kids and husband. The one that’s too late to fix things. The one he and his teenage son loathe with every fiber of their being.

He really had to move away to a nicer place. Sighing, he dragged his boot cladded feet along the living room towards his room to begin his night routine. His two jobs relied on his face and his body, so taking care of both was extremely important, mental stability somewhat important too. He kicked off his shoes and snaked out of his clothes, took his pj’s, and padded towards the bathroom. The most relaxing parts of the day for him were most simply when he saw his kids in the morning and taking a shower after being in a packed and hot night club, full of dried sweat which gave him a not-so-pleasant stench. Eunbyul just knew her daddy was a dancer; she didn’t need to know the explicit details. At least not until the age of thirteen, or maybe older (he hoped), when her very own older brother found out.

He scrubbed every inch of his body until his skin turned red because god, he could not stand the stench just rolling off him in waves. Now, he was fine. He was happy, scent of the bubblegum body wash Eunbyul insisted on buying filling his senses. He was finally home, and his daughter was turning a new chapter in her life. She was going to learn how to read and he would teach her the same things he’d taught her brother. How he loved that, the feeling of satisfaction reached after your child now knows something they didn’t before. He loves the way her eyes light up when she learns something. He loves it all, and he hopes it’ll last forever.

He remembered he should probably invest in a car and a house closer to the school, a 30-minute walk was no joke. He finally dragged his fatigued fingers to set the reminder.

#btsghostie #jimin x reader #pjm #jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin angst #dad jimin #single father jimin

81 notes · View notes

danipixel · 3 years

Text

Wherever the Force May Go pt3

Tags: Tags: @maulieber @botherbother-blog @spookiifi @zabrak-show @alicedoestheinternet @rogue-wonderful

Summary: The new business opportunity on Mandalore isn’t exactly panning out as planned. Daia’s new employer doesn’t trust her at all. Tempers flare and she makes a decision that will decide if she remains welcome, or faces the wrath of Maul and Death Watch.

Part 1 Part 2

The bright Mandalorian sunrise filtered through the windows of Daia’s room slowly beckoning her back to consciousness. Blinking the sleep from her eyes as she sat up, she surveyed her surroundings to get recenter herself. She was still in Sundari palace and the room still looked like a thermal detonator went off in it. Standing up from the bed she let out a groan as all of her muscles protested the movement. “Ah shit. Okay so yesterday really did happen.” She quickly dressed herself and worked on making herself look presentable.

A loud pounding on the door interrupted her morning routine. The door then slid open revealing Savage surrounded by an air of impatience. “Get up. You’re expected at the morning briefings.”

“Just a moment, I’m almost done.” She set about fetching her boots from the pile she’d left them in the previous night. “You could have waited more than 5 seconds before opening the door, you know. I could have been indecent.” Savage snorted and rolled his eyes. She finished pulling on her boots and placing her weapons in their usual homes, with her blaster prominently displayed. There had been no indication as to what would be expected of her today besides to learn, so she might as well look like she belonged among the Mando’ade. If Death Watch was anything like they used to be, they held more respect for those that armed themselves. “Okay, ready.”

Savage led her down the long hallways of the palace at a quick pace. His long strides forced Daia to slightly jog in order to keep up with him. They walked the halls in silence for a few minutes before Daia finally broke the quiet. “It’s Savage, right?”

He momentarily flicked his eyes in her direction before answering. “Yes.” An answer is better than being ignored, I guess.

She took a deep breath before speaking again. “Does Death Watch know about me? I mean, they obviously know I exist but, do they know I used to be a Jedi?” Savage still would not look in her direction while speaking. “They know what you told them. Why does it matter?” There’s the million credit question.

Her hands ran over her face a few times before she had a semblance of an answer for him. “Things get...complicated when people find out. Especially when they’re Mandalorian.” Exactly one member of Death Watch had found out about her past before, and had immediately tried to kill Daia for it. That woman was now a corpse in Concordia’s forests. Mandalorian distrust of Force users runs deep.

Savage finally glanced at her but never broke his stride. He didn’t seem to understand her dislike of revealing her past to most people. “Death Watch remains unaware. Hide what you are if you wish, Jedi.”

“Not a Jedi.” Daia whispered to herself. The two continued down the halls of the palace. Her mind unfocused, Daia kept trying to find anything to keep her mind busy. Patience and quiet were never her strong suits. She settled on studying the man she was walking with. He was huge, that much was obvious. He carried himself with less grace than his brother but with the same confidence in his own power. Wait, how did I not notice this yesterday? Her eyes focused on his left arm as she realized the entire thing was synthetic. That was a detail she had failed to notice the previous day. Whatever life the two Zabrak had led before coming to Mandalore, it had obviously been a violent one. A sudden thought crossed her mind about the previous night’s… What even was that? An attack? A test?

She held her hand up to get his attention. “Hey, Savage. I want to apologize for last night.”

He fully looked at her after hearing her words. “What? Apologize for what?” He didn’t understand what there was to apologize for.

“For the table.” She gestured at her face and then at his. “I know we were fighting but still. Sorry about that.”

“Last night” Savage’s voice took a slightly threatening edge, “was not a fight.”

“You’re right. Had it been a real fight,” Daia stretched out her painfully sore arms. “one of us wouldn’t be here this morning.”

Savage stopped walking to turn and study her for a moment. Confusion and mild surprise painted his yellow and black features. “I accept your apology.” That’s it? He’s just fine?

The two rounded the corner into the familiar hallway that led to the throne room. The door slid open to the brightly lit throne room and it was already filled with people. Savage entered first nodding to his brother as he guided Daia to stand far to the side of the throne. Maul was at his rightful place in Mandalore’s throne, one leg thrown over the arm of his seat while he leaned on the other. Daia made momentary eye contact with him as she walked past and smiled. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

Maul studied her face a moment but didn’t respond to her. Instead he addressed the rest of the room while they took their seats. “Many of you met Daia after her...entrance yesterday morning. She will be joining us for these meetings for the time being.” He turned to pin her in place with his gaze. “Pay her presence no mind.”

Savage whispered to her before taking his place at Maul’s right hand. “Stay here and stay quiet.” She was beginning to feel more and more like a captive than an employee.

The meeting began with a wave of Maul’s hand. The first priorities of the day being domestic matters. Almec droned on and on for what felt like hours. While he kept talking, Daia took stock of who was in the room with her. Several members of Death Watch lined the room, acting as a palace guard force. Saxon and Kast stood near Maul with their helmets removed. Kast had changed her hairstyle since the last time Daia had seen her but that was no surprise. Saxon still looked like he had just eaten something sour. Can he make any other expressions? In the seats near Almec were two holographic figures. A Falleen and a Pyke. That was never a good combination to see. He’s got Black Sun and the Pykes working for him? Shit. Daia was unaware of just how much power Maul wielded from this world but it was obviously substantial. She took a quick glance over to the two brothers. They seemed just as bored as she was but Maul seemed to mask it better than both her and Savage.

After about a week of speaking, Almec finally surrendered the floor to someone else. Thank the Force, he’s done. It was Rook Kast’s turn to speak. “There are some new weapons we’ve been trying to get a hold of for weeks on Agamar. The Separatist fleet is still an obstacle.” Savage visibly perked up at the mention of weaponry but Maul only reacted with the slightest of expression change. Had she not been a Force user, Daia most certainly would have missed it. Maul had a greater amount of control over himself than his brother.

Maul shifted to lean forward in his seat. “Are these weapons something we truly need?” Mandalorians need weapons like they need air. Of course she’s gonna say yes.

Saxon stepped forward to answer for Kast. “My Lord Mand’alor, these weapons are more powerful than the ones we are currently equipped with and as our ranks increase, so too do our needs to arm them appropriately.”

Maul considered his soldier’s words for a moment before turning to the holograms before him. “What about Black Sun or the Pykes? Can your ships make it to the surface?” Daia snorted softly and rolled her eyes. The Pykes were drug lords. They didn’t care if they got caught. They’d just send more spice on a different ship. Black Sun was no better. They were brutes. Sure, they could provide capable soldiers and bounty hunters but they lacked the finesse needed to sneak past military vessels. He’s lucky he hired me.

The transparent Pyke spoke first. “There’s no guarantee of success but we will send the ships, my Lord.” They’ll just get caught. The Falleen also responded. “Our pilots will succeed when the Pykes fail.” Like hell they will.

Daia couldn’t keep quiet any longer. Maul was making a mistake by letting these two idiots try to get his shipments. She stepped forward from her place by the wall and addressed Maul specifically. “I can get those weapons for you. I’ve slipped past Separatists plenty of times before.”

Maul fixed her with a glare that could burn a hole through a star. “You will do no such thing.” He was clearly angry at the sudden interruption. Daia felt the Force flare out with his outburst. To his side, Savage narrowed his eyes with a similar look of displeasure.

She knew she was right and continued to press the matter “But you…” Maul quickly stood and threw her back to the wall and held her in place with the Force. “No. That is final.” He continued holding her in place as he stalked in her direction to snarl directly in her face. “Is that understood?” She felt her temper flare but let it go before she could do something else stupid. “Of course, Lord Mand’alor.” Maul released his hold on Daia and turned to return to his throne.

The rest of the meeting continued without incident. Daia stayed focused on Maul the entire time. The information being shared didn’t matter to her anymore. She was pissed and he knew it. There was no way he couldn’t feel it.

Once the meeting ended and those in attendance started to filter out of the throne room, Daia left her spot on the wall to leave as well. Maul quickly barked her name to stop her. I guess he’s not done. Fine. Quickly she made her way back to the throne and started talking before he could berate her. “You said I would start work today. Smuggling weapons past a Separatist fleet sounds an awful lot like what you hired me to do.”

Maul rose and immediately entered her personal space, never once letting go of her gaze. “I also told you that you are to remain in this city until I decide you may leave it.”

Daia’s eyes may have lacked the flaming appearance of Maul’s but the fire was certainly present regardless. “Very well Lord Mand’alor.” She dipped into an exaggerated bow. “Shall I inform you when I eat, bathe, and sleep as well? If there are no more restrictions on my movements, I’d like to go to my ship and let my job contacts know I’ll be unavailable for longer than I expected.”

A soft growl left Maul’s throat before he stepped back. “I expect you back here in the morning.” “Of course. Whatever my lord wishes, right?” She turned on her heels and strode back out of the throne room.

The long walk to her ship was thankfully uneventful, the only people she was forced to interact with being the same dock guards she’d seen the other day. Lowering the ramp of the Fever Dream, she trudged her way up and into the small freighter. Thoughts about how the last two days could have gone so wrong so fast had slowed her usual confident gait. Lost in thought she was suddenly in the cockpit in front of the long range communication console. The console was lit up to alert her to waiting messages. Pressing a couple buttons revealed a small holoprojection of a Rodian missing his left antennae. “Daia I asked around and I finally got a couple jobs for you. These are gonna get snatched up quick so get back to me asap.” Well shit. Aside from Death Watch, Skax always found the best paying work. It wasn’t always necessarily safe or completely legal but it kept plenty of credits in her hands and fuel in the ship.

With a sigh she sent a signal out to Corellia hoping the Rodian would answer. After a minute a similar holoprojection to before shimmered before her eyes. “Well if it isn’t my favorite pilot! You get my message?” If his joyful demeanor was anymore painted on, it would flake off his face.

“Yeah Skax. I got your message. Look, I’m gonna be unavailable for a while. I may have done something stupid.” May have was an understatement. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that this whole trip had been a mistake. The Force had tried to warn her something was off but she didn’t listen.

Skax muttered in Rodese for a moment before switching back to Basic. “What do you mean unavailable? Is your ship damaged? That thing never breaks.” That’s because I don’t tell you how often I fix it.

Daia shook her head with a small insincere smile. “No, she’s not broken. I’m just gonna be grounded on Mandalore for a while. I’ll contact you when I can leave again.” With no indication as to how long she’d be stuck in Sundari, a while was the best answer she had.

The Rodian’s sickly pleasant demeanor finally dropped as he threw his arms in the air. “What the fuck are you even doing on Mandalore? I thought you stopped going back there months ago.”

“So did I. Look, I’m fine. I just can’t take any work right now. Let someone else have them. I’ll get in touch with you later. Try not to miss me too much.” She ended the transmission before he could argue with her. She knew he’d get over being cut off. He always did.

The second day of her extended stay at the palace began the same as the previous, with a pounding on her door, but this time Savage waited outside instead of forcing his way in. After a final check of her clothing and weapons she stuffed a large yellow fruit between her teeth and walked out the door after her chaperone. Walking down the hallway she finally took a bite of her breakfast. The fruit flooded her mouth with a bright sweet flavor that made her momentarily forget she was under house arrest. Savage’s words broke her silent reverie. “What is that?”

“This?” She held up the fruit in her hand. “A meiloorun. You can get them in every market from here to Coruscant. I love them.”

He just shrugged and shook his head at the unfamiliar fruit. He’s never had one? That won’t do at all. Carnivore or not, every sapient being had to try one at least once. “Hang on a second.” She pulled a small knife out of her pocket and Savage instinctively grabbed her wrist to stop her movements. “It’s for the fruit, not you. Knife’s not big enough anyway.” Once he let go of the vice grip on her wrist she cut the fruit in half and offered one to Savage. “Here. It’s illegal to be a grown man and have never tried it once.”

Savage looked between Daia and the fruit with extreme suspicion but made no move to take the offered fruit. She huffed and slapped it into his hand. “If I was going to kill you, I wouldn’t use a fruit. Just eat it.”

He sniffed at it and tentatively took a small bite while Daia rolled her eyes at him. The juice and sweetness caused his eyes to widen in surprise before he greedily finished the rest. A small smile crept onto his face before he was able to hide the unbidden expression. After a few seconds of wrestling with his thoughts, Savage muttered “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She couldn’t help the smile on her face as they finished walking to the throne room for what was sure to be another mind numbing meeting.

The throne room was the same as the previous morning, the only difference being Almec’s clothing and Maul’s ever changing seating position on the throne. Maul’s gaze followed her as she and Savage walked across the room to her place on the wall. She nodded and smiled at him as she passed but said nothing.

The meeting began with a wave of Maul’s hand as it had the day before. Almec droned on again, Saxon and Kast gave their reports on Death Watch’s work. Daia half watched Maul’s reactions and half pretended she was somewhere else until she heard the Pyke representative mention the weapons waiting on Agamar. “My lord Maul, we have not heard word from our ship sent to Agamar. We have sent a second to ensure their success. We...we hope to hear from them by day’s end.” You won’t.

Maul’s irritation whipped dark waves around him in the Force. Everyone in the chamber fell silent, It didn’t take Force sensitivity to sense his feelings about failure. He completely ignored the holographic Pyke as he addressed the Falleen. “Have your ships ready to go to Agamar by morning.” He snapped his head back to the Pyke “For your own sake, you had best bring news of your success tomorrow.” The Pyke took a step back despite being on another planet. “Ye-yes lord Maul.”

Daia sent out a small message through the Force to Maul before the next person spoke. A simple sensation more than words. A push to say that she could perform whatever task was laid before her. He responded to her intrusion by shoving her back into the wall without so much as looking in her direction. All heads turned in her direction at the sound of her back smacking into the wall. “It’s nothing, please continue.”

The daily briefing finished as it had before and Daia walked out the door with the rest of those who had attended. She spent the rest of her day walking through the city or fighting with P4R-E in the palace training room.

The next day started with another pound on the door from Savage. This time when Daia left the room she tossed him his own meiloorun with a grin. “Since you liked the last one so much.”

Savage responded with a smile of his own before enjoying his gift. The two walked in comfortable silence to the throne room for Daia’s third day of being Maul’s wall decoration.

Once again Almec droned, then Kast and Saxon delivered reports. Again, Daia kept her eyes on Maul monitoring his responses, both visible and only present in the Force. This time, a different Pyke representative was present. I guess they failed. Big surprise. Maul spoke to the Falleen hologram “Send your ships. Do not fail me.” The Falleen bowed, “Yes lord Maul.”

Daia stepped away from the wall and cleared her throat. “Lord Mand’alor, I believe that you would have more success if I was permitted to accompany the Black Sun ships in my own ship. I swear to you, I can make it to the surface of that planet.” Maul stared at her for a moment, his expression completely unreadable to her. “No.” Why am I even here if he won’t listen?

She left the room as soon as everyone had finished. The Death Watch target range called to her. She needed to shoot something, or several things many times. Death Watch had taken over a section of the gardens to convert into their own personal target range. Armored warriors joked and showed off their marksmanship for one another. A few kept to themselves and stayed focused on their targets while others still crowded around benches to clean and maintain their weapons after their firing exercises.

Daia pulled her blaster out of its holster and gave it a quick once over as she made her way to join the others. It could use a good cleaning. She’d have to disassemble it and scrub it clean after her practice today. She’d been too lost in thought to keep an eye on what was in front of her until she collided with an armored chest. Looking up she found herself face to face with Gar Saxon, wearing a particularly intense look of disapproval. “What are you doing here smuggler?”

“The same thing as the rest of you.” She looked around as if he could have been speaking to anybody else. “Perfecting my aim and taking care of my blaster.” Saxon crossed his arms and stayed planted directly in her path. “You aren’t welcome here.” Daia rolled her eyes and scoffed at him. Shit, did he find out? “I was welcome amongst you all the last time you saw me. In fact, I recall sharing drinks with most of you.” “Last time we saw you, you were bringing much needed supplies to Concordia.” Saxon leaned down close to her face. She should have felt threatened but with the way her week had been going, she was just irritated. “Then you stopped without notice. Some of our soldiers starved without those rations. What makes you think you’d be welcome among us after that?” “I’m sorry but last I checked, you stopped contacting me.” After her last visit, Almec had been thrown in prison and Viszla had tried killing a Jedi in his attempt to take Mandalore for the Duchess. It was best that Daia remain scarce until somebody from Mandalore or Concordia contacted her. Nobody ever did. “It’s a little hard to set up cargo drop off when your contacts are either in prison, exiled, or dead.”

“Let her through, Saxon.” Kast came up from behind him and gave him a shove to the side. “Mand’alor told her to make herself at home in the palace. Like it or not, she can be here too.”

Saxon snorted and shoved his way past Daia, bumping her shoulder with his armored one on the way out. Feeling petty, she lightly flicked her fingers as she slightly tripped him up with the Force. His quiet curse brought a satisfied smirk to her face. “Vor’e, Kast. Would you care to join me? There’s no shortage of targets.”

“Ba’gedet’ye.” Kast waved away Daia’s thanks. “I guess I’ll have to stay and teach you how to shoot properly.”

“Is that so?” Daia barked out a laugh and made her way to the nearest shooting lane. She pulled out her blaster again and took aim at the humanoid shape downrange. “I look forward to making you eat those words.”

She stayed at the range for a few hours, trading shots with Kast and mocking each other whenever a blaster bolt went wide. It felt good to have a friend on Mandalore again. When they’d had their fill the two cleaned their weapons and went their separate ways, but not before making plans to meet up for target practice again. After Kast left, Daia found herself a meal and took off to the training room for P4R-E's company for the rest of the evening. Perhaps fighting with her droid would erase her frustration with her employer.

Another morning, another pounding on her door. Five days since she had come to Mandalore and four of them spent as Maul's silent pet. This time she walked past Savage without stopping as she deposited a meiloorun in his waiting hand. "Come on. Your brother's waiting for me to hold up the throne room wall again." The path to the throne room was beyond familiar and allowed her mind to wander until she once again found herself leaning in the same spot she'd occupied for most of the week. Her mind slipped into the Force, feeling the failure of the Black Sun before anyone could address it. Maul must have felt it too. His presence in the Force had become an inky rolling boil, a significant change from its usual flowing shadows. Somewhere in the room Daia distantly heard someone mention contacting the Hutts for a ship to make the pickup. The boil around Maul managed to become even more intense as she felt her own temper flare simultaneously. The Hutts? Only if you want them to steal a quarter of your cargo and claim they lost it. Her patience had finally met its end. The moment others began to leave, she flew out of the room without a word and back to her own.

Daia's mind was a flurry of thoughts as she gathered the necessary things for a fast trip off of Mandalore. I'll get those fucking weapons. She shouldered her bag and paused a moment to leave a bowl of meilooruns on the table with a note, “Savage, these are all yours.” She stormed out the door and made a beeline for the Fever Dream. The same guards she’d seen every time nodded as she passed. “Just dropping some things I don’t need at the ship. I’ll be right back,” She lied.

Once out of sight she dropped her bag and ran for the cockpit. “Who does he think he is? Sending Hutts to do my fucking job. Bastard.” Daia’s hands flew over the controls of her ship, skipping through her usual preflight checks and firing up the engines. The ship rose from the platform and began to turn in place to head out of the city. Over the roar of the engines, Daia could just make out the guards shouting at her, probably to land the ship before they shoot. She waved at them out the window before closing the loading ramp and flying up into the atmosphere.

Before she could rise high enough to watch the sky turn from blue to black her comm crackled and Saxon’s furious voice filled the cockpit. “What do you think you are doing?!”

She checked her proximity sensors. No one was following her. Not yet anyway. She hit the comm to open the channel so she could answer the man. “I’m doing my damn job.”

Saxon wasn’t hearing it. She didn’t think he would anyway. “You have exactly 15 seconds to turn around before I blast that piece of garbage out of the sky.” Daia let out a sharp laugh at his threat. “Now now Saxon, why would you shoot someone else’s ship down when it’s me you’re mad at?” Every moment she kept him arguing with her was another moment for her to fly out of his range.

The supercommando ignored her and began counting down. “15...14...13...12...11…10...9...” She cut off his countdown. “I’m sorry, I’m having difficulty hearing you. Did you say ‘nine’ or ‘good flying’?” A few more seconds was all she needed before being able to jump to hyperspace.

Maul’s voice rolled out of her comm’s speaker. “Let her go.” He must have been standing there listening the entire time. “I’m sorry Lord Maul, what?” came Saxon’s confused reply.

“I said, let her go.” Daia could hear the irritation in his voice at being questioned. There was also a hint of curiosity behind it. He wants to see if I can do it, doesn’t he? “Either she returns with the weapons or she dies and is no longer our concern. I trust you heard that Daia. Either you return with those weapons, or don’t bother coming back at all.”

Again she let out a short laugh. “Oh that won’t be a problem at all, handsome. Hopefully the palace doesn’t collapse without me holding up the walls. Try not to miss me too much.” Her ship had cleared the atmosphere completely. She was free. With one last glance back to the planet behind her, she hit the hyperdrive and was thrown away from Mandalore and towards Agamar and her prize.

#darth maul #fanfic #star wars tcw #oc #Daia Veeral #Maul is not always the best person to work for #Savage is much nicer

26 notes · View notes

neverending-space · 4 years

Text

Jim Moriarty x reader

A/n: So whenever I’m procrastinating, I write stories and I thought, why not share them, you know, cause I’ve been putting off writing ‘Get away’ and I was watching Reichenbach Fall

Note: there’s no real conclusion, it’s just for fun.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

“There’s been another one! Pentonville!!” Donovan threw her phone down as Greg swerved past other cars in desperation. “Greg you’re gonna kill us!!” You shouted, holding onto the seat in front of you. The minute the car stopped, you, Donovan and Greg ran out the car and into the building, putting on Kevlar vests (just in case) on your way to the vault. The vault opened and there, sitting on the throne in all his Irish glory, decked out in the Crown Jewels, was James Moriarty. “No rush.” He said in a carefree manner, waving his hand for theatrics. ‘God I love that man...’ You thought, snapping a picture of him before SWAT cuffed him. “What are you doing!?” Donovan asked you, venom laced in her voice. “What do you thing I’m doing Donovan? This is literally the coolest thing ever.” You sigh, putting your phone in your back pocket. As SWAT marched James past you, he stopped and leaned in. “Send that to me, will you darling?” He winked as they pulled him away. You struggled hard to keep the blush off of your face. Ever since the bombing case two years ago (which John dubbed ‘The Great Game’) you had had an incredibly annoying infatuation with the criminal. You would often get little notes signed with a simple ‘JM’. You knew it was a terrible idea to get emotionally invested, but oh well right? Greg gave you a strange look as you two were walking out to wait for John and Sherlock. “What?” You ask, turning you head slightly to get a better look at him. “Nothin” He brushed you off. “Greg...” You sighed, shaking your head. “It’s just- you act... weird around him.” He jerked his head in the direction of Moriarty’s departing police car. “I act weird around everyone.” You roll your eyes, but you can feel the heat returning to your face. “I know, it’s just- different. Did he do something to you?” He asked, fatherly concern showing on his face. “No. This line of questioning is over.” You cross your arms and take a defensive stance as the boys arrive. “Garry, what did you say to my sister?” Sherlock sauntered up as Greg threw his hands in the air. “C’mon you two, I’ll show you the footage.” You beckon them as you started walking. Unfortunately Sherlock is a million times taller than you, so he caught up easily. “Are you okay?” He asked, his curls blowing in his face. “I’m fine Sherl, it’s my thing, Greg was just concerned that’s all.” He looked at you, confusion now etched in his features, as if he was silently asking ‘who?’. You let out a snort of laughter and his face relaxed.

“Remember, he’s a psychopath, he’s insane!!” Greg yelled after you as you make your way to the interrogation room that Jim currently inhabited. You opened the door, looking back at Greg you yelled, “I’m a big girl dad, I can take care of myself.” You hear Jim chuckle as you close the door and sit down. “Hey man, how’s prison?” You ask, taking out a notepad and pen. He looked at you skeptically. “You’re going to take notes..?” He asked, annoyance evident in his voice. “Pff no! I’m not an idiot! I tend to doodle when I get bored.” You said, spinning the pen between your fingers. Slowly, he put his hands widespread on the table and stood up, leaning forward. “Is that a challenge...?” He asked, his tone dangerous. You mirrored him and held eye contact. “Damn straight.”

You were hanging out with Sherlock in his flat when the phone rang. After a few moments he hung up. “Not guilty?” You asked, following him to the kitchen. He hummed a response before putting the kettle on. You jumped to reach a high shelf and grabbed a box of biscuits. Sherlock snorted when he saw you. “Aw shut up long legs.” You grumbled, pulling a few biscuits onto a plate. You set them on the small table beside John’s chair as Sherlock picked up his violin. You picked up your copy of ‘IT’ and flopped onto the couch as you heard the stairs creak. “Most people knock.” You said, not looking up. “...But then again, you’re not most people... are you?” Sherlock asked, turning around. “Kettles just boiled.” Putting your book down at the mention of tea, you took in Moriarty’s appearance. He was wearing a nice white button up with matching grey pants and a blazer. He was also wearing a cool looking tie pin. “Johann Sebastian would be appalled” He said, picking up an apple out of the bowl that you had placed, his Irish drawl as prominent as ever. “May I?” He asked, tossing the apple up in the air and catching it again. “Please.” Sherlock said, using his violin bow to gesture towards John’s seat. Being the devil he was, Jim chose to sit in Sherlock’s seat instead, shooting a smirk in your direction. “You know when he was on his death bed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his... pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end-“ Sherlock interrupted him. “The dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it.” He said, pouring tea. “Couldn’t cope with an unfinished melody.” You and Jim said at the same time. He, once again looked over at you, a sparkle in his eye before Sherlock’s voice snapped him back to reality. “Neither can you, that’s why you’ve come.” Sherlock walked over to you and handed you a cup, which you took with a smile. “But be honest, you’re just a tiny bit pleased...” You hid your face with the teacup, silently hoping the boys wouldn’t pay much attention to you. “What with the verdict?” Sherlock asked, now handing Jim his tea. “With me-“ He said, a sly smile on his face. ‘Fuck... Stop being so hot!’ You thought. “Back on the streets.” Sometimes you wondered how he managed to sound so much like a snake. “Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain.” He said, staring up at Sherlock who had yet to sit down. “You need me,” He stated in a matter of fact tone. “Or you’re nothing... because we’re just alike; you and I. Except you’re boring... you’re on the side of the angels.” Sherlock ignored this and instead changed the subject. “Got to the jury of course.” Silently sipping your tea, you observed the two. It was like a scene from a TV show or something. “I got into the Tower of London, you think I can’t worm my way into twelve hotel rooms?” He asked as Sherlock finally sat down. “Cable network.” You said, just realizing it. Their attention was now turned on you as Jim began to explain. “Every hotel room has a personalized screen, and every person had their pressure point.” It felt like he was staring into your soul now. What he said had vaguely reminded you of Charles Magnussen, a blackmail extraordinaire that Mycroft had told you to stay away from. Naturally you learned everything you could about him. Real creep he was.

“Someone that they want to protect from harm...” At this, he turned to stare right at Sherlock, there was no doubt in your mind about what he was insinuating. “Easy peasy.” He said, taking a sip from his tea, your eyes automatically drifting over to his pink lips. “So how’re you gonna do it?” Sherlock asked, finally speaking, “Burn me?” He too brought his cup to his lips. “Eh that’s the problem...the final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet?” He asked, his voice light and detached. “What’s the final problem? I did tell you, but did you listen?” He taunted, ending his question in a sing song voice. Putting down his cup, he began to tap his fingers on his leg. You focused your attention on that. ‘Seems very familiar...’ You thought, storing the pattern away in your mind palace for further inspection at a later date. “How hard do you find it- having to say ‘I don’t know’?” Sherlock responded immediately with, “I don’t know.” You smirked, knowing that you would’ve said the same. “Oh that’s clever, very clever, awfully clever-“ Jim mumbled as Sherlock shot you a quick smile. “Speaking of clever, have you told your little friends yet?” Jim asked, peaking your attention. “Told them what?” Sherlock asked, steapling his fingers. “Why I broke into all those places and never took anything.” Of course you already knew as well. “No.” He responded. “But you understand.” It was more of a statement than anything. “Obviously.” Sherlock responded. Jim turned his body to face you. “Do you?” He made eye contact. “Of course.” You said, trying to take the emotion out of your words. “Off you go then.” He took a bite of a piece of apple he had carved out. “You want me to tell you what you already know.” You said, putting down your tea. “No, I want you to prove that you know it.” He briefly gestured at you. “You didn’t take anything because you don’t need to.” You said, matter of factly. “Good...” He encouraged you to continue. “You’ll never need to take anything ever again.” Feeling more confident, you let yourself relax. “Very good... because..?” Jim went back to carving his apple. “Because nothing. Nothing in the Bank of England, the Tower of London, or Pentonville prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you into all three.” Sherlock looked over with what could have been interpreted as a proud look, before Jim started talking again. “I can open any door, anywhere, with a few tiny lines of computer code... No such thing as a private bank account now, they’re all mine. No such thing as secrecy, I own secrecy. Nuclear codes? I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king- and honey, you should see me in a crown...” He shot a quick wink at you before putting on a relaxed smile. “Twenty quid and I’ll get that tattooed.” You spoke up, breaking the tension Jim caused. He let out a little frown, knowing he lost Sherlock’s undivided attention. “Deal.” Sherlock said, tossing you his wallet. “Coolcoolcool, I’ll book the appointment.” You said, grabbing your laptop. “You were advertising throughout the trial, showing all the things you can do...” Sherlock observed, brining the tension back. “And you were helping. Big client list, rouge governments, intelligence communities, terror cells... they all want me... suddenly, I’m Mister Sex...” You stopped tyiping. “Ugh, amen!” You thought, but apparently you had said that out loud and they boys were giving you extremely opposite looks. Jim was smirking at you, his eyes wandering to who knows where and Sherlock was glaring at you. You cleared your throat, your face flushing bright red. “I’ll just- yea I’ll just leave- um, okay, bye. Don’t-“ You pointed at Jim, “Don’t kill anyone.” You slowly picked your laptop up and ran out the door.

#jim moriarty #moriarty x reader #bbc sherlock #the reichenbach fall #fanfic #sherlock fanfic

67 notes · View notes

moviemunchies · 3 years

Photo

I’m sort of doing this thing where I’m reading books and keeping a log of it, and if there’s a movie adaptation I try to watch it before moving on to the next book in the series. So I’ve been meaning to get to Prince Caspian for a while now after reading the book.

This one’s weird because a large chunk of the Chronicles of Narnia fandom doesn’t like this movie very much. And I pretty much loved it since I saw it in theaters? It’s not as faithful to the book as the previous film, but that doesn’t make it bad. I’m still struck by the design of the film, which stands out from most fantasy films of the time (and many today), and it’s got a lot of action! That’s enough to make me dig a fantasy movie.

_Prince Caspian_ is the second installment of Walden Media’s Chronicles of Narnia film series and the sequel to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It’s also the last film in the series that was made by Disney, as they quit because they were disappointed by this one’s reception. Walden Media managed to get another studio to fund and distribute the third movie.

After a year in England, the Pevensies come back to Narnia to find that over a thousand years have passed. The country’s been conquered by the Telmarines who have driven the Narnia creatures into hiding, thinking they’d been wiped out. The Telmarine prince, Caspian X, is sympathetic to Narnians but didn’t know they still existed--that is, until he has to run from the palace and lead them in rebellion against his uncle who wants him dead to take the throne. The Pevensies are there to help of course, but Peter butts heads with Caspian (and his siblings) on how to best fight this war. And Aslan’s nowhere to be seen, except by Lucy, who can’t convince the others to follow that lead.

This movie does actually have a lot of content from the book, just rearranged or recontextualized. The Plot is completely reworked and I don’t mind that because a huge chunk of Caspian’s story in the book is being told to the Pevensies by Trumpkin--that would be a very frustrating way to tell his story in the movie. Some things, like the animals holding faith for Aslan when others don’t, is implied by the way scenes are done rather than outright told to the audience.

There are some things that are in both the book and movie, but the movie doesn’t quite explain what that’s about. The sparring match between Edmund and Trumpkin doesn’t really make much sense in the movie.

There’s also the attack on the castle. This sequence is invented entirely for the movie, and while it’s frustrating in a similar way that Finn and Rose’s subplot in The Last Jedi is, the book does mention the Narnians losing some battles and so actually showing that to the audience is fine. Also I like seeing the way they apply griffins and mice in the raid. That’s cool thinking and I wish to see more fantasy films think about how fantasy creatures might be used on military operations.

Also I really like the design of this movie? The Narnian side mostly keeps the same designs for their weapons and armor, but it’s a lot more worn down, and that makes sense because they’ve been hiding in the woods for a few hundred years. They don’t have new weapons. The Telmarines, on the other hand, look fantastic. For their culture, WETA Workshop was inspired by Spanish and Italian culture, so instead of longswords they use side swords and falchions, and their armor brings to mind a combination of Spanish conquistadors, Italian condottieri, and Japanese samurai. They look more Renaissance than medieval and I love it.

The cast is also matched up to that, with Spanish and Italian actors playing the roles of Telmarines. Ben Barnes is an exception, as he’s English, but he’s putting on his best Inigo Montoya impression as Caspian.

You know what? Let’s talk about this cast. Ben Barnes, back when he wasn’t just playing villains. I remember classmates in high school saying that he’s too old, but if he is that’s because the actor playing Peter is also too old. Caspian is supposed to be the same age as Peter, so I didn’t mind it here. I think he overdoes the whole “YOU KILLED MY FATHER” thing but I don’t think that’s Ben Barnes’s fault as much as he’s working with the Plot point that’s been sandwiched into the story.

William Moseley does very well in playing Peter as he’s written for this movie, the problem is that Peter in this movie is written to be an absolute prat. His whole arc in this movie is about learning that he doesn’t have to be in charge and to let Aslan take the wheel. This would make sense if his life experience was only what we saw in the last movie’s adventure, but we know that he apparently grew up in Narnia and became a successful and wise warrior king. So him being so full of himself here doesn’t make sense. I got over it, as I see what they were going for, deconstructing how a kid might feel after his time in Narnia, but it is very annoying and it makes Peter very unlikable.

Unlike Edmund, played by Skandar Keyes, who is absolutely THE SHIZ in this movie. Having learned his lesson from the last movie, Edmund is a cheeky wonder child who takes no crap from anyone. He doesn’t have that much of an arc in this movie, but he is great to watch, so I forgive it. He’s the guy who keeps his head screwed on straight when Peter and Caspian need someone to keep them grounded.

Anna Popplewell’s Susan is good? They still go with her being the “reasonable” one, albeit a little less uptight than in the first movie. They have this thing in the movie in which she and Caspian are definitely into each other and I don’t think that’s too out there--in the books Susan had at least half a dozen suitors when she was queen--it does mean that a lot of her character arc is dedicated to that, and we know that it goes nowhere. This one clearly implies that she’s having trouble holding faith in things she doesn’t see in front of her, and that’s a fascinating direction that doesn’t go quite as far in this movie as it could.

And Lucy. Georgie Henley as Lucy is still delightful. They removed and rearranged a lot of the material from the book in her character arc which is a shame, because I really like a lot of that stuff. As the one who still has the faith and wants to see the magic in Narnia when even the Narnians are giving up hope, she has to come across as sympathetic and believable. That doesn’t always work, especially when she does things like walk up to a bear that’s about to attack her, not realizing that it’s not talking (there ARE non-talking animals in Narnia, dear!). But for the most part she works in this movie.

You know Peter Dinklage is in this movie as Trumpkin? I find it odd that he made it big on a fantasy show that was billed as deconstructing usual fantasy tropes while heavily featuring sex and violence when he also starred in the film adaptation of a famously Christian book series and one of the giants of the fantasy genre. He does okay. I mean I like that Trumpkin is this grumpy guy who is cynical and tired of everyone and just wants to go home, but I don’t know if Peter Dinklage is acting or just… cynical and tired of everyone and wants to go home. It’s entertaining sometimes, but not brilliant.

And Warwick Davis is in this movie? He was in the BBC series as well, but instead of as Reepicheep this time he’s playing Nikabrik, the dwarf that is even more cynical than Trumpkin and hates all humans. It feels weird for me seeing him as a villain, though I know he’s done it before. I always had trouble with Nikabrik as a character because I always felt like him going full-on evil was… well, everyone seemed strangely unperturbed by that in the book, even if we had an idea of how we got there. In the movie I felt as if Warwick Davis does well in that you get him, and you get where he’s coming from, but not enough to agree. And other characters react to his turn in a way that’s appropriate.

Ken Stott voices Trufflehunter and he does not have enough to do in this movie. Trufflehunter is not that Plot-relevant in the book, but I always had the impression that he was an important character and one of the most prominent Narnians in the story. He’s okay here, but I really thought that he should be doing more in the story. Maybe the filmmakers didn’t think it would fit the darker tone they were going for, if there was a badger running around in many of the scenes? I don’t know, I wanted more.

We do, however, get quite a bit of Eddie Izzard as Reepicheep, which is fantastic because Reepicheep is fantastic. This mouse is amazing. There were some people very surprised that a mouse is going around killing people, but it’s a fantasy film, he’s a knight, and also it wasn’t as if the first movie didn’t have violence? I’m frustrated that the movies don’t go with the “talking animals are bigger than normal animals” EXCEPT with Reepicheep, because it’s pretty darn weird that all the other animals are ordinary-sized and the talking mice are the size of cats. But Reepicheep is very entertaining, very cool, and he’s great.

Sergio Castellitto plays a surprisingly sharp Miraz? Yeah, Plot-wise he’s generically evil, but I think that Castellitto makes him A) entertaining to watch, and B) convey that he knows that he’s the least popular guy in the room with the other Telmarine lords. The book version of Miraz has no idea that they’re plotting against him. Miraz in this movie does, and although he’s definitely not bright enough to realize exactly what they’re doing, by the end of the movie he knows that they’re happy to watch him die.

Pierfrancesco Pavino’s Glozelle, for instance, is barely a person in the book? He shows up to stab Miraz in the back. Here, not only is he not the person who does that, but the movie makes him very uncomfortable with the direction Miraz’s path to power is taking, despite remaining loyal until almost the very end. He’s a complex, conflicted character and I like him.

And also noticeable is Damian Alcazar as Sopespian, a guy who doesn’t like Miraz, but is no more likable because of it. Because he’s obviously not doing it for any sense of the greater good, he’s doing it because he wants that power for himself. I don’t think anyone mistakes his motives or thinks of him as a secret good guy at any point in the movie, which I think speaks to the actor’s performance.

Liam Neeson is Aslan. He does great, though he really doesn’t have that many lines. Which is part of the point, that he’s not there for most of the movie, so it works, I think.

Also Tilda Swinton’s in this movie. There is some justification for it, but I think it was because she loved being in the first movie, and they loved having her in it, so they just brought her back.

I like fantasy movies with lots of action and sword fights and cool design choices. So no, Prince Caspian isn’t that faithful of an adaptation of the source material (though it’s more faithful than people give it credit for), and I do get frustrated with character arcs--mostly Peter’s. But I still really love this movie, and I have tons of fun every time I watch it.

#Prince Caspian #Chronicles of Narnia #Walden Media #Narnia #Movie Munchies

4 notes · View notes

cronquette · 3 years

Text

:four:

Disclaimers:

-Dedicated to Julia

-I do not own any of the Naruto franchise, I’m just making my SasuSaku dreams come to life.

-More personal notes will be situated at the end of the chapter

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Some beautiful paths can't be discovered without getting lost.”

― Erol Ozan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dewy grass left trails of freshness that wafted towards her nose, for it was sunrise when she had approached the village. It was massive, buildings wrung with wood and stoned grounds, stalls brimmed with fresh, rosy apples or exotic, blooming flowers flung themselves at her every second, catching her cocooned curiosity quickly. Her dress was modestly masked with a cloak, in case the spring cold would make itself known once more, and torment her small being with its ever freezing bite.

Her footfalls scraped slowly as she wandered through the streets, not paying heed to much of the crowds or clamour for she wanted to check her surroundings at the very least; it was not as if she had anything physically to hide. Her most prominent feature that would glimmer daintily in the sunlight, her glowing pink tresses, were now concealed from prying eyes. And her jewel, the captivating viridescent rhinestone, was tucked away safely in her skirt pocket, where her hand had been tucked in, lightly grasping it for fear that it would suddenly disappear. The only thing that would hold people’s gaze would be her foaming green irises, but she had held her head away in her hood that it would be impossible to observe such globes with practically no sunlight to hover over them. They practically glimmered under the sun’s speculation.

Her strides were slow, and her chest heaved slowly. She took in her sights, savouring her surroundings as she walked further, and further, through the roads. Marketing was certainly a thing she’d caught on straight away, for there were a myriad of sellers, creating clamour for people to take a peep at the things they held in possession. Many were farmers, she took a guess, as they had all sorts of crops and vegetables, fruits and whatnots sitting in their respective baskets, just anxiously waiting to be eaten. Others seemed to have sewn fine clothing, or smooth, meticulously crafted pottery, lathered in clean coats of polish to finish them nicely and make them look quite presentable.

The domesticality was all new to her, a culture she wasn’t very familiar with. Living in a coven all her life, food supplies either discreetly and swiftly delivered or fetched as soon as possible. Residing secretly was something she was used to, the exception of the ritual she had just experienced, along with attending all the others. She wasn’t suited for such open marketing, which proved her uselessness currently all the more when she realised there was not one silver coin in her pocket. Even packed with all her clothes, food to suffice for just a few days, and scrolls to help her study, she wasn’t able to purchase one single thing. It was fruitless to whine and beg, she wouldn't succumb to such vulgarity. Her mentor taught her that, and even so, there was no way she would lower her position as a witch before those humans.

Even so, she couldn’t help but smile. Ino would enjoy this, she knew. The outdoors was just so suited for an out-going, confident girl such as the said blonde, and it was unfortunate she wouldn’t be accompanying the pinkette. The sun would be much entertained playing with golden locks, and accentuating such crystal eyes.

A new start was certainly refreshing, and she had a tingling feeling that it would be quite soon that she would be reaching new horizons and milestones

Wherever Sasuke traversed, a cold, sinister aura always accompanied him, But his firmness wasn’t able to intimidate everyone, so to say. There were, however, many who greatly feared him and the power he held. Those were mostly outside the palace walls, though. Within the elegant patterned pillars and marbled flooring, there was nothing short of being annoyed by the Uchiha. His servants, the dainty things they were, served him rightfully, not complaining unless amongst the company of themselves, and he paid no heed otherwise.

Hearsay was something not really familiar within the castle walls.

However, in the court, it was more than likely to be the everyday news.

Sasuke took his place at the old oak table, sitting comfortably at the head, his eyes steely piercing through the silence of the room. To his right, sat stiffly none other than Hyuuga Hiashi, in all his glory, arms crossed low around the biceps, his mouth achieving such a downturn it surfaced a memory of his own father doing such imposed actions. It made his brows knit deeper, before cooly turning to face frontwards.

“I take it you’re all well,” his words meant nothing; it was just procedure to stall a little before heading to the main topic, he had to remind himself. He’d seen many of his ancestors do so before him, and he wanted nothing more than to place his feet in their steps. A cold stand of wind shook the omnipresent tension this room always carried when such meetings took place.

Silent nods prodded him to continue, and so the raven folded his hands, leaning his elbows pointed on the table as his palms stood in front of him. He sharply inhaled: this conference would last an hour (as always), and so bringing different subjects to light at the right time was always something laying dormant at the back of his mind. He decided to start with the one that probed the nightmares that shook the living daylights out of him.

“Witches. And Warlocks. Those creatures still hang free,” He licked his lips in such a tantalisingly slow way it made one gulp.

“Why?”

His Adam's apple bobbed as the last word came out. His voice was a dagger, slicing the peace of the government before him in one single blow.

“Pardon me, your majesty,”

It was one of the further participants at the table who spoke, nevertheless, his voice wrung firmly, and his eyes, though pale like milk, shone with tenacity that they were quite nice to be held in.

“Those creatures may be vulgar, but they hold some sort of intelligence, sire. They’re hard to catch, and they certainly do not want to be found. I suspect they dwell in an abandoned part of Konoha’s vast forests, but it would be a matter of searches to see. Alas, you and I both know these follow ups have been taken before, and everytime, the result has always been futile.”

“Do you suggest that we abandon our searches entirely, Neji?” he gritted out with venom spitting from his teeth.

“I do not suggest as such, my Lord. However, there is only so much you can do; you’re not yet King of this land, you are Crowned Prince. The level of your status has merely succeeded upwards. There are still elders who have more power over you,” he fussed haughty, for his own clan leader was one of the few. The temptation to stomp over to his chair and rip his throat with the Uchiha’s bare hands was so enticing, but he had self control. He knew it was not the time to play like animals.

But Neji was truly a jackass.

“Hyuuga,” the domineering, stygian orbed male nodded to Hiashi, receiving his stern attention. The silence between them spoke louder than anything, for the elder knew exactly what the prince desired. And although it was something that was made to sleep for the moment, everyone in that room wanted nothing more than those chakra-wielding things to die. A common trait shared by all the civilians and warriors. Those of flesh and bone.

“You ask me to send out troops to find passages to where they lay, Sasuke,” he bit out gruffly. He cleared his throat, almost as if to show he had still a sort of superiority towards him.

“I can do so, but the most I can send is two troops of twenty. It’s a fleeting risk, however, all the more scarce that they will have to split halves in order to scatter north, south, east and west,” he answered. Sasuke refused to release the relieving breath he was holding, and instead flared his nose, as if to contemplate the proposition. It wasn’t much: ten of their men each searching thousands of acres, How long it would take to know of their return infuriated him beyond measure, but then again, less members meant more freedom.

They could move better in less numbers, so that was something that he could hold himself onto. Apparently, it was enough to convince him.

“I’ll take that chance,” his voice was hoarse from not trying to rush his words, an attempt to not sound desperate, for even in a room full of eyes his pride was bound to be torn like a ravaging pack of lions.

A small nod from the Hyuuga was all that he needed to know. Another search was going to be sent.

“Is that all you want to discuss with us, my Lord?” the aforementioned narrowed his eyes at the man who spoke. The lackadaisical, smart annoyance had his arms crossed behind his head, leaning comfortably on the back of his chair as if he had a care in the world. It wouldn’t surprise him if he didn’t. The audacity of the Nara didn’t disturb the Uchiha as much as before, so it only gave him so much as a twitch to his left eye.

“No, but most of the topics I am to discuss aren’t as much of importance. Feel free to sleep through the rest of this conference,” he spoke the last sentence sarcastically.

“May I but in before I snore then, your Highness?” he sighed.

The dark haired male shrugged, as if to say do as you wish.

“Some girl entered the village today,” he chided, “strange gal. Doesn’t look like she’s from here. We ought to keep an eye on her.” he proceeded to yawn, and leant back further, he looked as if to fall off his chair.

“Her appearance, Nara?” the young Hyuuga male inquired.

From his observation, she wasn’t very memorable, having been concealed through a cloak. The only thing that caught his eye was her eyes: the bright, emerald orbs they were.

Interesting.

It didn’t take long for Sakura to tire herself out through gallivanting aimlessly, padding her way through stones and pebbles on the ground, the sky’s heat accentuating through every hour, and the board weighted pack on her shoulders smally growing heavier by the minute. She wiped the swelling beads of perspiration that scurried down her forehead with the back of her hand, and released a breath of exasperation.

This village was immense in land expanse, and she hadn’t even gotten through to the heart of it, the place that made her mind twist with fascination-- the palace itself. In all its splendour, the building stood proudly in the heat, almost glimmering with pride: she could see it. But it seemed today was not one of which she could journey so far. She’d seen carriages steadily rocking bye, the horses trotting with such elegance she was entranced so much she stopped just to see them going by.

Oh, what a place this was.

She’d brought with her many of the scrolls containing the recounts of some of her predecessors’ experience, those--of course-- who’d made it out alive, and she pondered whether her experience would be deemed just as exhilarating. Or, gruesome enough to know she’d be burnt alive at the stake. She really didn’t know.

She then had encountered a bakery, blooming with warmth and delicious treats stacked at the window sill, enticing all who laid eyes on them. The pinkette frowned in despair as she knew she would not be able to purchase such a delicacy. Her stomach even whined at how imbecilic she was for not even bringing any coins to spare.

As she was about to move along, a voice caught her attention.

“Excuse me Miss, I can’t help but see how you’re looking at the pastries in our shop. Would you like to buy something?”

Unlike the Haruno, this girl wasn’t wearing a dimple, and so her chestnut locks gleamed hazelnut-like as she made her way towards her. Said strands were neatly folded round the top of her head to create two buns, only a ragged fringe framing her face. She dressed simply, with very few (maybe two) rosy petticoats that rivaled Sakura’s own hair. Not that it mattered-- it wasn’t as if she could see it anyway. She wore a slightly darker shade for her bodice, the tone drifting to a crimson, and her flat stomacher was an off-white, almost cream colour. She was a civilian, no doubt, but she seemed more dressed up than what would be necessary.

“Your shop?”

“Ah, it does seem like I’m not best suited for the occasion in this,” she picked up the thick skirts as a way of gesturing to her outfit, “however my family does own the bakery. You’re not from here, are you? I’m Tenten, a pleasure to meet you!”

Her beam was so bright and fulfilling it made the rosette pop a grin as well, taking her hand and shaking it firmly.

“Sakura, nice to meet you too,” she smiled softly.

“And I would love to buy something from your shop, it’s just that I don’t have any money on me right now. I’m very gratified at the offer, though.”

The brunette shook her head with a laugh, before grabbing the Haruno’s wrist and practically dragging her into the store. They were instantly met with the cozy smell of bread and sweet aromas, and the warmth of ovens burning with fervour.

“Oh, har har! Since you’re new around here, I’ll let you have a pastry for free! Your choice: pick one and it’s on the house,” she gestured to the room. The room was tantalisingly dizzying her with spells of temptation, and this girl was a civilian!

The pinkette smiled weakly and bit out a childish, nervous giggle. Not eating for a while seemed to take a toll on her.

“I couldn’t. Really, Tenten, I appreciate the offer, but I must get going-”

“But you’re new, Sakura! I bet you don’t even have a place to stay.” she wagged an accusatory finger at the aforementioned. The latter grew pale at the revelation, trying to scatter ideas through her head and pick out the most logical option. However, there was none. It really was inevitable. She didn’t know what to do or say, but opening and closing her mouth frantically in an attempt to let out words was an amusing sight to display.

“Aha!” The brunette smirked. She then proceeded to run behind a counter, and with a flimsy towel, she meticulously pulled out a small, hand-sized meat pie, with slow strings of steam wafting upwards. She pushed her hands towards the Haruno’s petite frame, and instantly caught a whiff. She swallowed, before acquiescing.

The inside of her mouth burst with flavour as she took a bite. Her tongue tingled as she chewed pensively, still captured in the eyes of a certain baker’s daughter.

“I-It’s good,” she commented.

She ended up eating another one after.

Shikamaru was always observant, his skills made prominent for the Uchiha’s gain, and although it was a trapping situation, he didn’t mind. His life always bore him no matter what he did, the most he spent doing was making out the shapes of clouds in his spare time. That, and help soothe the load of paperwork that had been flung on his shoulders.

As of this moment, the conference had come to a close, and he was free to roam as much as he desired.

Instead, he sat at a small bar stall, a metal mug of beer filled to the brim with golden alcoholic liquid, topped off with frothy substances bursting atop. One pint of the drink, and above all, his tobacco pipe puffed with intoxicating reels of smoke, making the man beside him choke in disgust.

“God, Shikamaru, do you have to smoke that crap?! It stinks!”

He would have scoffed at the said Uzumaki, who vexibly stalked him to this den after claiming that he needed some sort of relief off of all his errands as ‘Teme’s Right-Hand man’, and wanted some company. He still had no clue how the blonde was able to get away with that filthy nickname. But it wasn’t his place to judge their relationship, as the topic itself was something so obscure it confused even the two men in the involved party. And the Nara really didn’t appreciate getting himself into puzzling situations that twisted his brain unless he was forced to, or it was a pastime he participated in.

“If you don’t like it, you can leave, Naruto.” he sighed, as he took a swig at the beer in front of him, gasping as the bitter drink swelled down his throat. It was a bitter-sweet feeling, but he was used to it. It burned, but he relished in the pain.

“No way! I’m staying, ‘ttebayo. Oi, bartender! I’d like a pint sized mug of whiskey if you will!” she exclaimed, slamming his fisted hand on the sticky countertop. No one made enough effort to properly clean the wooden table, but no one complained.

Shikamaru shook his head, punching the blonde’s bicep rather harshly:

“I’m not taking care of a drunk you.”

He swatted his hand in the air as if dismissing him lightly, his nose wrinkling in laughter. As his drink was carefully handed to him, he recklessly bumped it towards the beer on the counter, slightly tipping the liquids together in an attempt to make some sort of toast.

“I’ll be careful, promise.”

The Nara was tempted to mutter something along the lines of ‘tis what you said last time’, but he held his tongue and instead sucked in yet another breath of tobacco, his mind slightly clouding in a sort of dizzy utopia. He heard a breathy exhale from his left before a slightly slurred sentence arrived, leaving his brows furrowed in calculation.

“Hey, heard from Sasuke that there’s a new girl in town. Do you know where she is, now?”

“What, are you willing to scare yet another one of the female species that resides in Konoha?”

The Uzumaki sputtered, leaving a smirk to cross the brunet’s features.

“Go to hell, Shikamaru!”

“And no, I just wanna meet her.” he lipped, pouting like a child. He was obviously highly offended, and that added to the other man’s pride.

In the end the two downed their drinks forcefully, not wasting one drop and yet attempting hard to sustain themselves from succumbing to the drunkenness. However their walking patterns seemed quite unsturdy and Naruto was easily daydreaming, so it wasn’t a good sign. In the end, they tossed their cash to the bartender carelessly, and stumbled around the village in search of a certain lady.

They found her, and quite simply too. The Nara remembered she was last seen, and where he found her, at the bakery he most frequented, since their baked goods were better than the others, it was a good travelling pace of exercise, and it was conjoined with a neighbouring weaponry store next door which they also owned. So, easily, they found her, although that was just going to be a place of questioning her whereabouts.

The bell chimed as the wooden door opened.

“Tenten,” Shikamaru respectfully regarded, a clumsy Naruto staggering behind. The shop was warm and cozy, and instantly scents of sweet and savoury adorned his senses.

“Tenten! Nice to see ya, we were wondering if you’ve got any information about where the new girl is-”

The brunet stopped in confusion at the sudden halt of breath from the Uzumaki. Something that he didn’t do often. Something in his opinion that he should do often. But that wasn’t the point.

He found the blonde gaping ahead of him, all sense of inebriation perished as his eyes glistened with a look of familiarity at whatever was behind him. Instantly, he turned around.

A small girl sat at the furthest table, shoulders squared and eyes wide with the same look of intensity as the male beside him. Her mouth hung lowly, as she was blinking frantically, as if they were an illusion she was trying to escape from. Her rosy brows knitted as she tried to find the words to say, but the whole room rushed cold as the two apparently came to the same sort of conclusion of words.

“Sakura-chan?!”

“Naruto?!”

--------------------------

Hi! Merry Christmas, or whatever you celebrate around this time. Can you believe it? 2020 is finally over, my God. My friends and I are deciding to go on a zoom call and play rick astley’s never gonna give you up as the end credits of this year. Seriously, it all goes downhill from here fnhdbkjdf. One of my friends is already stomping on 2021, don’t get me started lol.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Please comment/review, as I really like to know that people still read my story, especially on ffnet and ao3. To those who have done so before, thank you so much! Every comment/review makes my entire day.

since my beta reader had something come up, until you read this, Julia! XD

Yours truly,

-Avis

#SasuSaku

10 notes · View notes

threelivesthreeworlds · 3 years

Text

anonymous asked : Hate that fanfiction/drama reviews misunderstand Yehua & Lian Song. Yehua is commonly portrayed as selfish/insensitive (regarding his past mistakes), which undermines his real personality. Western audiences also obsess over physicality, which bypasses the beauty/innocence of the romance. Sorry for ranting. I can relate to Lian Song, depression-wise. (1/2)

Hey, same depressed anon here. Given that most other sites on this series follow those painful tropes, you guys are really a breath of fresh air in the fandom. I especially love(and am very relieved) how Lian Song is turning out completely different to people's assumptions about him. I know I can count on you to preserve my interpretation of the characters. (2/2)

(ADMIN RO) : We the admins have largely been unable to find a lot of fanfiction prominently featuring Yehua or Lian Song in general on our side of the fandom, but we’re sorry you’re having a bad experience with portrayals!

As a person who does occasionally take initiative to portray these characters in fan-derivative formats, however, I do think that Yehua has his insensitive and selfish sides. It’s the way he’s raised from a very young age, which manifests itself even so early as when in their childhood, Sujin used to come sit at his desk - he literally obliterates her out of his peripherals and just regards her existence like a brush rack.

That tunnel vision came from, most likely, Tianjun’s philosophy on raising future sovereigns, which is that to be the perfect sovereign Yehua’s supposed to be largely emotionless and weigh pros and cons and gains and losses over feelings. There’s also a lack of, presumably, a lot of social interaction that isn’t based on either academia or politics. Strategically, I think Yehua’s thought process, even applied to love and feelings, is very much “this is the best thing to do in this scenario, and therefore the right thing,” and I think only when the results come out badly is when he realizes it may not have been the right thing, and even then he may not understand necessarily where he went wrong.

So, I think it’s reasonable in the aftermath of his mistakes for him to do badly. And at that point in time his primary goal was to hold on to Qian - given that he had already lost her once. So, understandably, a lot of it doesn’t come out until later. Now, is this still in fact, selfish? Yes. Is it for more complicated reasons than just Yehua is a Selfish Person and the Worst? Also yes. It’s really a balance, and I’m sorry that your reading material has not been hitting that balance.

As for the topic of physicality - that is different between the couples of each book, I think. As a writer, one of the big rules I personally follow is that anything that goes into the final cut of the draft has to have meaning. It has to matter in some significant way, and the same goes for affectionate or sexual scenes. Now I don’t know how everyone else views it, but viewing it from this perspective, I think the physicality of the relationship, specifically for Yehua and Qian - it’s an “in,” if you will, to their romance, the same way Yehua moving to the fox cave and integrating himself into Qian’s life and taking her on walks and cooking her food is an “in.”

Their love is very much a “walking along with you for a while and suddenly realized we love each other” kind, and for Qian, because she’s been going at it alone for so long and because she has had her trust broken before, she definitely needed to get used to the idea of having someone, of loving someone, of existing in the same space as that someone and regarding him not as an outsider but as family, as someone she loves and trusts and can rely on. And so narratively, the physicality becomes important. It becomes sort of the symbol and metaphor for intimacy, for trust, for, bridging their gap and both getting used to and putting down their defenses in regards to loving each other. I always say if the romance is good and well-structured, then the physicality can only add to the depth and meaning of that love. I think in this instance, Tang Qi is very much successful.

Thank you very much for your kind words regarding our interpretations of the characters! On this blog we are always trying to fill in character motivations as deeply and three dimensionally as possible while not obliterating their flaws. It’s nice to know that we are succeeding, at least to some degree!

(ADMIN LIN) : Now that Admin Ro has addressed Yehua, we’re going to get into the nitty-gritty of Lian Song. Jk jk. We don’t quite know what you’re referring to when you say painful tropes in reference to Lian Song. If it’s how he is portrayed as a playboy - that is in fact not a fandom creation, TQ herself has explained that he is in an author’s note of Lotus Step’s and how it differs from the typical brand.

Admin Ro is kind enough to do the translation of the author’s note for me.

Also, I'm not trying to speak up for Lian San, but I'm curious - have you all forgotten he's a playboy? From the start his character setting has never been The Good Man, so, to everyone who asks why he's flirting with her with no intention of marrying her, flirting with her with no intention of marrying her is completely normal for him. Have you all forgotten the beauties that come and go in Yuanji Palace? He has always been the not assertive but not refusing and definitely not responsible Third Highness ahahaha.

For a playboy to go for a beauty that's his type without any care is an easy thing. To debate and consider her interests for a long time is the real action that's different from his usual behavior. This action shows that he feels differently about this person. If they were fighting for a day of pleasure, then what's the difference between Cheng Yu and the beauties that pass through Yuanji Palace?

However, if you meant there was other interpretation of him out there, we’re definitely sorry you’ve seen those. He definitely does struggle with depression-like feelings, although the mentality also ties to Buddhism, so we believe it’s a mixture of both that the author is showcasing with him. As someone who suffers a similar form of depression, he’s a refreshing take on it. It’s not the typical sad-depression, it’s just an emptiness but still existing and still doing things, even if he switches through 3 million hobbies on any given day.

Now mind you, majority of which we talk about Lian Song on this blog takes place during Lotus Step and 50,000 years predating what you’ve witnessed in the variations of him in the dramas. Those are still valid parts of him. Especially regarding Cheng Yu, which James Li (Lian Song from both dramas) has said in an interview their relationship is something like 50% friends and 50% lovers.

There is also the serious, decisiveness in which you see when he’s advises Yehua on things. Then there is suggestions Lian Song makes to Yehua, such as the ones that lead to Yehua “meeting” Su Su a second time, this being in his human form. His advice with love is odd, but it’s never done out of his understanding of situations. And his understanding of love, which is shaky at this point in time and that neither admin can say what it is exactly yet in Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms or Pillow Book, because we haven’t had time to sit with him in either timeline beyond him being melancholy over Cheng Yu when she won’t look at him during Bai Feng Jiu’s sword case and earlier in the novel having been making the saber for Cheng Yu that required some help from Donghua Dijun.

As it comes to physicality in reference to Lian Song and Cheng Yu - their love story is a bumpy trail, that we still don’t know the full extent. However, if there is any more sexual tension between them, it won’t be appropriate to adapt that aspect of them as it’s a heavy tension. And they are required, by the universe in the future, to have a child. So, once again, Lian Song is not misinterpreted when it comes to these aspects. This doesn’t take away from the romantic elements - sexuality and romance can coexist. They most certainly do within all the couples of this series, these two however are currently the most prominent of the couples so far.

#anonymous #yehua #lian song #three lives three worlds ten miles of peach blossoms #three lives three worlds the lotus step #admin ro answers #admin lin answers #((w h e w this got loooong))

6 notes · View notes

lunamusings · 4 years

Text

Gravity Well

Chapter 3: Pocket-Sized for Your Convenience

A Loki x Lithium Fanfiction (CanonxOC)

Set before the events of Thor, Loki receives as large mysterious crate of alcohol the day before his birthday. What seems like a strange yet benign gift from an anonymous person ends up being more than he, or the woman at the bottom of the crate bargained for.

Chapter Warnings: Drinking games (?)

~~~~~~~~~

Over breakfast, Loki glanced back and forth between his dear mother and the strange little woman from the crate. Frigga demurely sipped her tea, making light conversation as they ate. The topic largely revolved around what the day's events would be like. That is to say, full of public appearances early on and culminating in a large feast all through the palace and it's expansive front courtyard. All this he already knew.

What he had not realized was that Lithium would clean up as well as she had. With her hair up and now in a dress, she seemed more like an adult woman than the mess she had been. At the same time, he did rather like the previous look, if he was honest with himself. The disheveled state she was in when busted her way out of the crate had it's charms as well.

He also had to admit that her simple sleeveless shirt with the word “NO” on it did attract attention to her more prominent...features.

His mother was a subtle woman, so much that he knew Lithium did not realize what Frigga had done, putting her in a dress with that particular lining. As his little surprise lady ate enthusiastically, little peeks of delicate acid green fabric flashed in his direction from the bells of her sleeves. Anyone with working eyes during any of the festivities today would know who's "guest" she was by that alone. When she stood up to fetch another tea cup for herself, the pleated dip-dyed underskirt of the same brilliant shade as the other linings drove home that point.

Loki had no doubt his mother meant this particular detail for Lithium's protection. Most people were not keen on crossing him, even if he had sensed the undercurrent of disregard for him in certain spheres of ability the vast majority of his life. Making it clear that she was somehow attached to him was ideal for her.

But it was strangely ideal for himself as well. They had yet to get into what was to become of this little lady and this clear show of possession nested quite perfectly into what he intended to do. He had spent the time before falling asleep mulling over his options and almost all of the options he had say in, which was most of them, led to one conclusion.

He was going to keep her around.

Sure, he ran the risk of Thor going on about her being "part of the family", but the idea of having a person around who had no preconceptions about him was far too tempting to resist. She was also a mystery to him. Most of the women, and even some men he knew, would have had at least a cry of surprise running into someone in the dark, but she merely put up her hands up and tried to put space between them. She did not read as a trained warrior, especially now, her eyes lighting up like a child as she poured her tea out of a clear glass pot which displayed the flowers and leaves that had been steeping in it.

His biggest question though, was why, in the two times she went into the bathroom by herself, did she not turn on the light? Even when his mother went in with her to help with the particulars of her dress, she only did so when Frigga asked. Add that she saw his decoy's movements far faster than most he had used it on and it left him with a large battery of questions about her.

His mother's voice broke him from his thoughts. "Now that we have finished up, it's probably a good time to discuss what is going on here and how we proceed with you."

Lithium sipped her tea while nodding, surprisingly not spilling any in the process. Maybe he was just too used to spending time with his brother. The man was not what one would call graceful, yet it somehow worked for him.

Because you don’t have to be graceful when your mode of operation is “hit it with a hammer and ask questions never”...

"So it was said you were in that crate. However did you get there?"

Am I ever grateful Mother can concentrate where I cannot...it’s still too early in the morning for me...

Lithium sighed. "Well, I can't say for certain, but I have the feeling I was "dealt with", so someone could take over my brewery. Said someone was bent out of shape because his father left the place to me instead of him, as I was the better brew master."

Loki smirked. "And better at naming your collections. Pfft, Imperial indeed."

"Yeah, I had sort been in charge of branding too and it annoyed the hell out of him." She made a face into her cup. "He somehow thought Galaxy wasn't regal enough a name. Too girly and purple, which I take personal offense to, as purple is my favorite color. And also ridiculous because I’m pretty sure galaxies don’t have a gender."

Loki laughed dryly. "I'm guessing this man did not even know what a galaxy is."

Frigga stifled a chuckle herself. "I'm sorry you had to deal with such a person. But how did you end up here? I saw on the crate that it, and thus you, are not from Asgard. We have had little contact with Midgard for many centuries now."

Well, most had little contact with Midgard...not all...

Lithium's mouth moved but no words came out for a few moments. "Um, what's Midgard? I get that here is Asgard but I don't actually know where Asgard is either."

Frigga and Loki shared a look before she answered. "My dear, it seems you have not heard about the Nine Realms. Have you ever learned of the Norse people of Midgard? We are who they patterned their gods from."

Loki could practically see the wheels turning in the poor woman's head as a look of realization slowly crept onto her features. "Wait…you mean the Norse people on Earth? Are you saying the realm of Midgard is Earth? And Asgard is not on Earth?"

Frigga's smile was one Loki remembered fondly from his younger years, the one she gave him when he had mastered a new spell or did particularly well in his studies. "Yes, that is correct. It's been so long since I had heard it called that, I had practically forgotten the name."

Lithium rested her cup in her lap, wrapping her fingers tightly around it. "So…I'm not on Earth at all then…if that's the case, I have no clue how my uncomfortable mode of transportation ended up here."

She took another sip of tea, but Loki could not miss her hands shaking. "Bart was too chicken to actually dispose of me the conventional villain way, so he sent me to a whole other planet…"

There was a measure of silence from all of them for a moment as the poor woman stared deeply into the soft pink liquid in her cup. Whoever this Bart was, Loki was already sure he would throw that man through a window if he ever met him.

And that was only if he was feeling amicable that day.

That decided, he brought them back to the conversation this time. "Should we assume that this puts you in a particularly difficult situation if we were to return you to Midgard? If this Bart was willing to send you here, surely he would decide to take more drastic action upon you if you suddenly reappeared."

"Given the argument we had before I woke up in a crate, that's a good assumption." She sat back in her chair, making another lopsided face of irritation. "He was demanding I give him the business while we were literally at his father's grave site...either sign it over or marry him….and I was in no mood to talk about that. I went home, drank a large mug of coffee and then…I'm here."

Loki leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, debating on whether or not to put a hand on her shoulder would be appropriate. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it sounds like you are in need of a place to stay. Would you be opposed to staying here? I'm sure Mother would suggest much the same."

Frigga gave him a look he understood, but Lithium likely would not. "Perceptive as always. I see no reason we could not find room for you."

"It's not like you take up much space after all." Loki sent the surprised woman a little smirk.

A smile broke her surprised expression. "What can I say? I'm pocket-sized for your convenience."

"Well, that's settled then. I shall go take care of those preparations as well as the others I need to attend to." Frigga stood. "There is much to be done today, so I'm sure Loki would not mind you staying here until the arrangements for you are finished."

If Loki was not aware of his mother's abilities, he would have sworn she was reading his mind. "Of course."

Once Frigga was out the door, Loki refilled Lithium's tea cup and sat back. "I am going to have to make my public appearance soon and I will not be able to be here most of the day. It would be best if you kept to yourself for that time."

Lithium tilted her head. "That makes sense. I would probably get myself hopelessly lost anyway."

"You're not wrong. I will show you around after today. Your timing was not entirely helpful."

"If I could have made the necessary adjustment, I would have." She smirked, and something about the way she held her lips struck him as odd, as if she flaring the upper curve of her top lip more than needed.

Just one more question I have…

"I'm sure you would have." He smirked back. "Regardless, I would like to invite you to the feast this evening. It's a rather informal affair, and Mother did dress you appropriately for it. "

Lithium's eyebrows shot up, and her mouth hung open for a moment. "Really? I mean…"

"As I said, it's informal. Mostly food, drink and dancing if you've have the skill or enough of the drink." He stood, smoothing out the front of his tunic reflexively. "If it becomes too much, you can always leave before it ends. I would not be offended, merely jealous that you can escape sooner than myself."

"I think I will go then. Sounds like I might help you stay sane."

Loki smiled as he turned to ready himself for the more exhausting parts of the day. Before entering the bathroom, he glanced back over his shoulder at the woman now pouring herself another cup of tea. Yes, the surprise on everyone's face this evening, when he walked in with a Midgardian woman, was going to be more than enough to make up for any expense keeping her around would entail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lithium tied off the embroidery floss she has been working with mere moments before Loki walked in with a number of items in his arms, Thor following with even more shiny trinkets. She shoved her work into a spacious hidden pocket in the pleated layer of her skirt and stood up as they entered.

Loki gestured to the sitting area. "Just put them on the table over there."

Thor's blinding grin lit up when he saw her standing there. "Hello again, Tiny Lithium! I heard you will be staying here because things went badly for you in Midgard. I'm sure you will love it here!"

Lithium blinked several times. Even talking normally, Thor was just too loud for her ears, like the man existed perpetually in all-caps.

"Ah, yeah. I'm not worried about liking it here. The view from the window is better than anything I've seen in most of my life."

Loki appeared beside Thor and began pushing him toward the door. "I need to get ready for the feast, you can go now."

Lithium giggled as Thor attempted to keep talking to her, Loki interrupting him with every sentence. Once he had the door closed in Thor's face, he sagged against it, though his face had a small amused grin.

"My apologies for Thor, he suffers from a case of excessive enthusiasm at all times." He rubbed his forehead. "It can be tiring to be around."

"One of my brothers was like that too." Lithium felt a twinge of pain, remembering that brother, but pushed it back down. Now was not the time to get into her whole life story. "It won't bother me too much."

"Then you have more patience than I possess." Loki shook his head. "Speaking of, do you need to do anything before we head out? People are already gathering for the feast."

Lithium shrugged. "I thought you said you needed to get ready."

"That was to get rid of Thor." He approached her and circled her for a moment. "I will say, you do need a little maintenance."

Lithium froze as he moved around a few locks of her hair. The logical part of her brain let him do what needed to be done, as it was not like she could do much. Her hair skills were lacking compared to what magic Frigga had made of hers. The other part of her brain though, was sounding a confused proximity alarm.

This would be a good time to NOT have the equivalent of the second best nose in nature….

His scent was nice though, a mostly natural with a slight overlay of what she guessed what soap, that should could not deny.

"There you go, back to the way it was." He smiled a little, with no trace of the smirk she had seen much of the past day. "Shall we go, then?"

Lithium felt her chest tighten the closer they came to the buzz of conversation and smell of thousands of unfamiliar but pleasant food smells. Whether is was just from nervousness, or also because she was having to take two steps for each of Loki's one, she was not sure. She was never so glad when he stopped before a set of doors flanked by a pair of guards. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Are you alright?" Loki glanced down at her.

"Yeah, just haven't worn a dress in a while." She glanced to the guard at her left, who nearly imperceptibly snorted with laughter. "I guess I worked too much to have time to be fancy."

Loki chuckled. "Well if it eases your nerves, you do not look like you are struggling."

He held out his hand to her. "Now we should make a proper entrance. "

She stared at his hand, head tilting. "Um…how does that work?"

He nodded to his hand. "I'll escort you in, they announce me and you and then you are free to move about as you wish. My recommendation is to visit the dessert table first. The kitchen staff are always kind enough to include a coveted selection of chocolate items."

She was not about to say no to a good chocolate dessert, but the way Loki's eyes lit up, she wondered just how much was actually available, and how deep was the man's love of chocolate. She took his hand, as she was trying to push all these question to the back of her mind. No matter how calm he was about this, she had spent most of the day practicing moving in the multiple layers of her dress, when she was not working on the little project in her pocket.

Then the guards opened the doors.

Loki's pace as slower, though whether or not it was to match her short strides or to up the dramatic level of them walking in was yet to be seen. She barely heard them being announced, only just registering that she was announced as Lithium of Midgard. The rush of blood in her ears and to the surface of her face at all the eyes suddenly on the two of them took most of her brain's attention.

Loki leaned down and whispered. "You can go now, I have to deal with a few things…like my father, but do find your way to that chocolate cake at the end of the table. It is particularly wonderful."

She watched him walk away toward where Frigga was, sitting next to an older man with an eye patch, who she figured was the father in question. She stood there for a moment before heading to the table. She figured if she had something to do with her hands and was actively eating , she would not have to mingle too much, even if the strangers around her where more inclined that she was to do that.

Oh how very wrong she was.

Thor spotted her and the crowd parted to let him through. "TINY LITHIUM, WHERE ARE YOU GOING? COME JOIN US!"

Lithium did not have the option of protesting. Thor pulled her over to a table of people holding large mugs of some alcoholic beverage, fast enough she was not sure her feet actually touched the floor on the way over. Their faces were kind, but she still felt weird without Loki there. She tried to find him in the crowd but apparently all Asgardians present were giant compared to her.

Thor plopped her down on a bench next to himself. "You arrived just in time for a drinking game. We are in need of a judge."

A small smirk spread across her face, Maybe this would be fun afterall. "Well, I'm afraid you'll have to find someone else to judge. If it’s a drinking game you're doing, I plan to play."

Thor stared at her like she was growing another head right there at the table. "You?"

"Yes, me. I am a brew master. Do you think I can't drink?" She shook her head. "Get me some and I'll show you what real drinking is."

One of the other people at this part of the table, a large red-haired man, laughed. "Let her try. It will be fun to watch."

Thor hesitated all the more. "True, but if she dies from her alcohol hubris, I'm the one who has to deal with Loki's vengeance."

Lithium shook her head. "Trust me, you won't need to worry about that. Now get me that drink!"

#gravity well #loki #lithium #loki x lithium #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #canon x oc

15 notes · View notes

possiblyimbiassed · 4 years

Text

What happened to Sherlock? Part VIII - The Sign of the Hetero Norm (2)

This is the second installment of my meta about the significance of Mary in BBC Sherlock and hypothesis #8 in this meta series; that John is not the father of Mary’s baby. It follows directly on the first installment, which you can read here.

(For the record, I’ll also repeat the disclaimer: My suspicion here only concerns John’s biological offspring. It would still be possible that John, and perhaps also Sherlock, might father the child - if it exists - by adoption. It does not exclude a metaphorical reading where the baby represents, for example, Sherlock’s and John’s relationship. i also want to stress that this hypothesis is an attempt at logical reasoning based on observations in the show and in ACD canon; it’s not meant to be ‘gossipy’ and has nothing to do with whether I would actually like to see this happen or not - that’s a whole other story. ;) )

Mary’s background and canon similarities

The first time Sherlock meets Mary in TEH, he deduces a series of things about her, most of which we haven’t seen explained this far. But there’s one thing in particular that seems to stand out to him: that she’s a liar.

In HLV we learn that Mary has lied about her background to John, and she keeps lying and deceiving in S4. But even if HLV and S4 aren’t ‘real’, and Assassin!Mary only exists in Sherlock’s imagination, this doesn’t mean that his first deduction was wrong; the fact that Mary’s lying trait is repeated later seems to indicate that it’s important. Mary might be lying about other things instead. Like, for example, about who’s the father of her baby. (Continued under the cut)

Some other deductions in this scene might also be significant; that Mary ‘bakes her own bread’ might refer to the idiom ‘a bun in the oven’, slang for being pregnant. A hint that John will not be responsible for her later pregnancy?

Another ‘feature of interest’ about Mary is her possible US connection. America is definitely a recurring theme in BBC Sherlock; the US or ‘America’ is referred to over 20 times throughout the show. These references occur on a plethora of different occasions, and in three specific circumstances the CIA is mentioned. In one of them (HLV) we learn from Magnussen that Mary has been doing “wet jobs for the CIA”. Sherlock also suspects that while Mary’s accent is English, Mary herself is not. So, Mary might have some kind of connection to America - at least in Sherlock’s mind. The idea is hinted at, but never developed.

Mary Morstan’s British background may be described in canon, but ACD’s original stories contain even more US references than BBC Sherlock. Big parts of the novels A Study in Scarlet (STUD) and The Valley of Fear (VALL) take place in America, and many characters have connections to the US - the most prominent of them perhaps Irene Adler in A Scandal in Bohemia (SCAN), who was born in New Jersey.

The Noble Bachelor (NOBL) is particularly interesting in this context. In the beginning of the story, Watson points out that it happened “a few weeks before my own marriage, during the days when I was still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street”. I believe this talk of Watson’s marriage might be significant mirror-wise. The case in NOBL is about a bride - an American woman - who disappears directly after marrying the British nobleman Robert St. Simon, because she learns during the wedding ceremony that her beloved former husband, who she thought was dead, is still alive.

(X) The bride doesn’t reveal this during the wedding, but an hour later she is gone. So legally she was still married, and the new marriage to the nobleman would therefor be nullified - hence the story title of ‘bachelor’, I believe. On Lestrade’s questions about the case, Holmes answers:

“Just one hint to you, Lestrade,” drawled Holmes before his rival vanished; “I will tell you the true solution of the matter. Lady St. Simon is a myth. There is not, and there never has been, any such person.”

This is, more or less, the role I think Mary Watson plays in canon after SIGN; she’s a myth, a heteronormative façade (see reasoning in the first installment of this meta). In fact, I don’t think she ever appears in canon under the name Mary Watson (please correct me if I’m wrong). Now, if Sherlock’s deductions about Mary’s background in HLV would be true (in spite of all the other things about this episode that might be his mere imagination), that Mary Morstan is a false name and she has lied about her background, this would technically also nullify her marriage to John, wouldn’t it? You can hardly marry someone who doesn’t exist. ;)

There’s also a literal hint in TAB that Mary might soon be on the run, just like the bride in NOBL:

In this scene, in the midst of Sherlock’s Victorian Mind Palace dream, Watson is suddenly dressed as the modern John and seems more angry than worried about Mary’s disappearance. So I can’t help wondering: Does Sherlock foresee this outcome from his subconscious deductions about Mary and the baby?

A possibly vengeful bride

In TSoT we learn more about Martha Hudson’s late husband Frank, when Martha talks to both Sherlock and John separately about how “marriage changes you as a person”. Her marriage was like a “whirlwind” at first, which Martha felt “swept away” by. Her best friend Margaret seemed to have been devastated and left the wedding early. But we also learn that Frank Hudson ran a drug cartel, was sentenced for murder and had several other women, that Martha found out about after they had moved to Florida, USA. Martha was actually relieved when he was arrested for “blowing someone’s head off”. From ASiP we also know that Sherlock was the one who made sure Frank was executed (by lethal injection according to TSoT).

There seems to be something still missing from the plot narrative here, though; in what way was Frank’s death beneficial to Martha? And I can’t help wondering why the Frank Hudson case is even brought to our attention? Why give us these details that don’t quite make logical sense, and then nothing more? And why are we being told, again and again, that “marriage changes you as a person”?

In ACD canon there’s nothing about Mrs Hudson’s husband, as far as I know. There is, however, a sailor named Hudson in The Gloria Scott (GLOR), who comes to blackmail Holmes’ friend Victor Trevor’s father and threaten him with exposing him to public shame and dishonour by revealing his criminal past. Hudson manages to literally frighten Mr Trevor to death. In The Five Orange Pips (FIVE) there’s also a mentioning of someone named Hudson, who is associated with the KKK. So even if Mrs Hudson’s criminal husband in BBC Sherlock is non-canonical, the existence of at least two criminals named Hudson is clearly canon.

Anyway, what has all this to do with Mary? Well, this is very much speculation of course (and not originally my idea; I'm pretty sure someone has posted a theory about it - I just can’t find the reference at the moment. Please alert me if you know who, so I can give proper credits!): What if Mary is Frank Hudson’s daughter and her mother is one of those “other women”? And what if she’s out for some kind of revenge against Sherlock, who made sure her father was killed? After all, the whole Victorian part of TAB - which we know happens in Sherlock’s Mind Palace, where he goes back to solve a case by first solving an older one - is focused on vengeful brides (’Un-Dead’, as it seems - I see you there, Dracula! ;) ). The Emelia Ricoletti case also has clear connections to America.

Could Mary have hired a ‘consulting criminal’ (Jim) and got the advise that burning Sherlock’s heart out by marrying John would be the best way to take revenge on him? Or could she even be paid by Jim to fake a marriage?

Just speculating, as I said… :)

The revelation at the wedding

One of the strongest arguments for the baby not being John’s is, I think, the scene at the wedding reception in TSoT, where Sherlock deduces Mary’s pregnancy. At the revelation, both John and Mary look terrified, like they’ve seen a ghost or something:

Seeing as these guys had lived together at least for a year, their panic reaction doesn’t quite make sense to me - especially since they’re both trained in medicine! If Mary wasn’t even medically tested yet, why panic? Why would Sherlock’s ‘deduction’ seem more reliable to her than her own knowledge of the matter? After all, she had morning sickness. How many women in this world need a male detective (rather than a doctor) to tell them that they’re pregnant? I think Mary rather looks like someone being caught lying, with dire consequences to expect. John doesn’t expect this and seems totally shocked. Neither of them appears happy about the revelation. I think the sum of the couple’s reactions fits better into a scenario where Mary has been cheating on John, and is therefore not protesting at John’s negative behaviour regarding the pregnancy. But she knows she is (or might be) pregnant and has perhaps tried to hide it to John.

Mary is a smart person, and must definitely know what Sherlock actually means to John. She has seen his grieving for a long time and also witnessed his violent reaction once Sherlock returns. She even teases both John and Sherlock about their obsession with each other. Why isn’t she jealous? How can she go on and marry someone who is clearly in love with someone else, and who actually pays her very little attention in comparison? There’s something fishy there...

And what about John himself? There’s an entry on the blog where John Watson’s deductive reasoning skills seem to reach a new low mark (which is a bit strange, seeing as he has been working together with Sherlock Holmes for years at this point):

In short: Sherlock helps a same-sex couple to get together by showing one of them a path out of her arranged marriage. This woman has been threatened with exposure; an abusive person who is out for her money has literally blackmailed her to marry a man and choose a heteronormative life. But John’s conclusion is still this: “I swear that my forthcoming wedding has softened Sherlock.” “Naturally, I assumed it was because he saw me and Mary together and just wanted to make someone else happy.” So John is utterly convinced that his own, heterosexual marriage plans are what inspired Sherlock to help this gay couple out of an arranged, heteronormative marriage? Sherlock, who has been against all John’s girlfriends so far and also clearly stated from the beginning that girlfriends are “not really my area”? Good thinking, John -- not! :)))

And still John seems utterly surprised and terrified when his good, happily married heterosexual wife turns out to be pregnant, after living together with him for a year? Hmm...

Why the “why” is more important than the “how”

I’m going to go out on another tangent of speculation here, just to illustrate the extent to which I think heteronormativity increasingly rules this show, but also how I believe Sherlock’s and John’s emotions play into it. Even if Sherlock seems to have no prejudices regarding gay couples (as demonstrated by the blog case above), when it comes to John and him, I believe Sherlock has bought the hetero norm hook, sink and line. And ‘Mary’ is a metaphor for this, becoming more and more blatantly obvious as the show goes on. To Sherlock, she symbolises exactly “what John needs”: an ‘ordinary’ life and marriage with an interesting but ‘ordinary’ woman. But Sherlock’s subconscious is telling him something different about her, which I think he fails to fully recognise, no matter how much psychological evidence his mind collects.

And the main problem is Sherlock’s repression of emotions; this problem is at the same time cause and effect. His unwillingness to show or talk about his emotions towards John makes him appear as a cold-hearted person, mostly called a ‘sociopath’ or ‘psychopath’. Which makes John not want to risk the stigma of coming out, or even recognise his own feelings to himself. Adhering to the hetero norm is much safer, and it allows John to escape from his emotional dilemma in an unsatisfactory and hypocritical way: to marry a woman whom he hardly even knows. Which in turn makes Sherlock believe that John living with a woman is the only reasonable option. And so on and so forth, until eternity. The example below is from TEH, John’s reaction to Sherlock’s return.

JOHN: Now, you let me grieve, hmm? How could you do that?

Sherlock doesn’t respond to this, but tries to avert the question by talking about John’s moustache. What could John, in his highly emotional state, possibly make of this? This is where he becomes violent, and Sherlock doesn’t defend himself. John grabs Sherlock and punches him (which is confirmed by his blogpost about this: “He genuinely thought it would be funny to surprise me. I think he was more surprised when I nutted him.”). And it goes on and on:

JOHN: You know, for a genius you can be remarkably thick. SHERLOCK: What? JOHN: I don’t care how you faked it, Sherlock. I wanna know why.

I think John makes it very clear in TEH that - unlike Watson in canon’s EMPT - he is not interested to know how Sherlock survived the Fall. John doesn’t give a rat’s fart about the method he used to fake his own death, neither is he interested in knowing why Sherlock found it necessary to fake his death to Moriarty and his henchmen. But Sherlock doesn’t get this because the question is entirely emotional; John could just as well have asked ”Why did you force me to live without you for two years; why did you abandon me? Don’t you care about me, didn’t you even miss me?”. But he doesn’t ask this out loud, since neither of these guys are honest about their feelings - not even to themselves, as it seems. And apparently it totally escapes John’s conscious mind that Sherlock might have had an emotional reason to come back precisely to interrupt his proposal to someone else.

I suspect (speculation again) that the ‘why’ of John going on to marry Mary after Sherlock’s return was not only about convincing himself that he needed a “normal” life and submitting to the hetero norm because John is closeted. It was at least just as much about punishing Sherlock on an emotional level, letting this ‘sociopath’ know exactly how it feels to be abandoned, not knowing if the other even missed him. It was revenge and punishment in their eternal, on-going game with emotions, where neither of them is letting his guard down to show vulnerability towards the other. But this was probably subconscious and nothing John would freely admit to. Consciously, this arrangement allowed John to simply register that Sherlock apparently was fairly OK with things, since he even went on to organize John’s wedding. Thus, John could reason, his feelings for Sherlock couldn’t be requited anyway.

I also suspect, however, that the concept of ’Mary’, as we see this character from HLV and onwards, is Sherlock’s way of punishing himself for abandoning John. The wedding planning and the ‘vow’ in TSoT, in my view, was a very special sort of self-harm, where Sherlock tried to sacrifice himself to pay off his emotional debt for having hurt John, by doing his utmost for John to be happy with his choice.

But apparently this wasn’t enough, so when ‘Mary’ shoots Sherlock in HLV, even this is (supposedly) Sherlock’s own fault. I think ‘Mary’s shooting Sherlock symbolises the blow to the heart that Sherlock received on the wedding. But why was this a ‘blow’, one might ask, if Sherlock himself was prepared for the marriage and even helped planning the wedding? Well, there was a second blow on the wedding reception, wasn’t it? (Just as there were two murder attempts depicted in TSoT; one before the wedding and another during the wedding reception). The second blow was when Sherlock deduced Mary’s pregnancy. Because a child would most probably cement John’s relationship with Mary forever. Not only would the baby’s presence be an obstacle for John spending any time with Sherlock; it would also erase any attempt from Sherlock to confess his feelings to John in the future, since it would make him guilty of disrupting a family involving a third, innocent little person.

Mary definitely works as an internalised hetero norm. In his own view, Sherlock has no value, and he doesn’t deserve John. Thus, ’Mary’ is needed to keep John happy, and comes back to haunt Sherlock’s mind, even after she’s (supposedly) dead. No matter what atrocities she commits, ’Mary’ is always excused by Sherlock. In many ways, she’s the new ’Sherlock’: solving crimes, being passionate, leading John into adventures, using disguises, speaking (supposed) words of wisdom and even dressing like Sherlock. She fills in an empty space that Sherlock refuses to fill in himself, because a) he doesn’t consider himself worthy and b) he wants to avoid ‘Sentiment’. Instead of facing reality and try to do something about it, Sherlock tries to have a place in John’s life through ‘Mary’ and other invented avatars.

I think John makes it clear on his blog that he does not intend to forgive Sherlock any time soon: “Turns out he’d faked his death because Moriarty had threatened those close to him. Including me. He’d gone into hiding, happy to leave me and everyone else thinking he was dead. He’d done it to save us but he hadn’t trusted us enough to tell us what was really going on. Not sure I’ll ever truly forgive him for that but as the saying goes, life goes on.”

But then he’s back to talking about the cases and his own motivation to keep his friend after all: “So I ignored him and got on with my life. But God, it was dull. I knew he was back. I knew that he was out there having the time of his life and I was… working”. The image John gives is actually that he keeps hanging out with this ’sociopath’ for the sole reason that he can’t resist the danger, the ’thrill of the chase’. In other words; Sherlock seems to be right in HLV when he claims John to be a sort of adrenaline junkie who craves danger and therefore needs a dangerous wife (to replace Sherlock, who is not good for him because he’s a real junkie and a man to boot, but he doesn’t say this).

John’s ’deeper’ question of why rather than how in TEH (which doesn’t apply to Sherlock’s supposedly ’scientific’ world view where emotions always are a problem risking to bias his conclusions) has its complete repetition in TLD. Once again Sherlock tries to convince John that he can predict the future. Sherlock expects to impress John with the explanation of how:

JOHN: How did you know?

In fact, I think a great deal of what we see in TLD is Sherlock’s mental repetitions of what happened between him and John after his ‘return from the dead’ in TEH. However, in TLD (as in all the episodes from S3 and onwards) John is not impressed by Sherlock’s intellectual shenanigans; he hasn’t seemed to be for a long time, but especially not after the treason Fall. In TLD John may have started by asking “how”, but in the end he just wants to know why Sherlock has lured him to come to his rescue when he’s in trouble.

JOHN: Never mind how. He’s dying to tell us that. I want to know why.

Sherlock tries to explain that he needs John’s help with a case because he ‘can’t do it alone’. But John doesn’t buy it this time either; his disbelief and judgment of Sherlock is even harder and more emphasised than in TEH. And this is, i believe, the key question; to answer it honestly Sherlock has to talk about his feelings, show his emotional vulnerability. Which he still isn’t ready for. So this is why ‘Mary’ and 'Rosie’ keep popping up until the end of TFP; they stand for Sherlock’s heteronormative alibi to avoid talking about feelings. Even if Sherlock comes a long way with hugging John in TLD and hugging Eurus in TFP - basically to comfort them - he still hasn’t told anybody about his own feelings, has he?

Sherlock ’had chips’ with ’Faith’. (Dinner!) But we never see him eat anything, he just goes on impressing Faith by telling her about how his deductions about her private life work. It’s the scientific ”how” rather than the more emotional ”why”.

I’ve also been wondering about Mary’s traveling around the world in TST, ’on the role of a dice’ when she learns that Ajay is after her. This is the cold assassin who tried to kill Sherlock and lied to her husband about her background, and yet she is suddenly ”moving the target away” from John - why? In HLV Mary claimed that the truth would break John and therefore he could never know that she lied to him. What’s actually going on here? To me this seems more like Sherlock trying to justify to himself his own fake suicide and his following absence for two years in order to ’protect John’ from Moriarty’s network. The whole ‘Mary-the-hero’ plot line is an indulgence in Sentiment, complete with self-sacrifice and a tearful self-absolving note. But this over-romanticized scenario gives Sherlock no satisfaction, since it ends with John’s grief and sorrow and alienation. Conclusive discovery: escape is no solution; it just postpones the problem.

OK, this has been a looong meta, and a bit speculative. For the finish, I’d just like to summarise a bit about Hypothesis #8 and why I suspect that John is not the father of Mary’s baby. Here’s my TL;DR:

John wasn’t even aware on the wedding that Mary might be pregnant - and he’s a ‘bloody doctor’!

None of them seems happy when Sherlock deduces Mary’s pregnancy; Mary appears shocked that he noticed it and John seems shocked before the unexpected task of fathering a child

Their relationship doesn’t strike me as honest and genuine on either side; they’re not really into each other

Mary is a liar who conceals her background to John

It’s suspicious (but also canon consistent) that Mary encourages John to spend a lot of time with someone she should know that he’s in love with; why would she want to start a family with such a guy?

David seems to remain too close to Mary for being an ordinary ‘ex’; he might actually be the father of the baby!

The Watsons have no children in canon

Rosie in S4 doesn’t strike me as a real character (Mary’s pregnancy in S3 might still be ‘real’, though)

The whole concept of John’s wife is a heteronormative façade (which goes for canon as well); why then would John’s fatherhood be real?

And, finally, just one more thing that occurs to me:

The baby is a perfect plot device to keep John and Mary together in a modern time when divorce is common, and also to keep Sherlock guilt-ridden about confessing his feelings. A revelation that John is not the father would likely mean a breakup of the couple, with the possibilities that this would open for the ‘Johnlock’ option. ;)

Thanks for bearing with me in meta-marathon, and Happy New Decade! :)

Tagging some people who might be interested: @raggedyblue @ebaeschnbliah @sarahthecoat @gosherlocked @loveismyrevolution @sagestreet @thepersianslipper @tjlcisthenewsexy @elldotsee @88thparallel @sherlock-overflow-error @yeah-oh-shit

#mary=heteronormativity #mary=facade

25 notes · View notes

cela-astral-projection · 4 years

Text

Aric/Aedan Vernersson Character Survey

Basic Character Questions

First name? Aric. Psuedoname is Aedan

Surname? Vernersson

Middle names? Axel

Nicknames? Brother

Date of birth? September 23rd

Age? Early to mid-twenties (died around his 25th birthday), but he's quite responsible for a young man.

Physical / Appearance

Height? 6'3

Weight? 240

Build? Buff but still soft.

Hair color? Pale yellow/white.

Hairstyle? Long, thick and wavy hair that is usually pulled back

Eye color? Silver

Glasses or contact lenses?: He wears glasses when he has to do a lot of writing or reading for eyestrain, but other than that, he has excellent vision.

Distinguishing facial features? He's not big on shaving, so he generally has some form of facial hair.

Which facial feature is most prominent? His jawline.

Which bodily feature is most prominent? His arms or his monster hands.

Other distinguishing features? Bright silver eyes.

Skin? Tawny brown, like his mother's.

Hands? Ginormous meat hooks.

Makeup? Not his thing. Lucio made him put on his eyeliner once. It melted in the sun, and he swore it off because it burned his eyes.

Scars? His hands are a little rough, and he's got a few cuts up his arms, but nothing too pronounced.

Birthmarks? Some darker brown pigmentation on the back of his arms. Pretty faint.

Tattoos? He has some sun paintings (one on each pec) reminiscent of the rock art from his village on his chest in a dark sienna color.

Physical handicaps? Bone spurs on his heels, but that's just an annoyance.

Type of clothes?: It depends on what he's doing. In the palace, he wears grey and charcoal with red and gold accents. When he's just going about his day, he wears lightweight linens in a rainbow of colors.

What are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc.) Like I said, the boy has bone spurs on his heels, so they were already giant monster feet, but that just adds to their length. He takes good care of his feet. He likes high-quality boots and shoes. (Unlike his sister who would go barefoot everywhere.)

Race / Ethnicity?: His father is from Lucio and Morga's tribe, and his mother is one of the southern tribes on the frozen sea. (A/N: for all intents and purposes, I write them as Swedes/Post-Spanish Mission Chumash Indians because...that's what Kristen (Celeste) and Erik (Aric) are.)

Are they in good health? Aric was always in generally good health. Until he wasn't...

Do they have any disabilities? None to speak of.

(image of Chumash Rock art for tattoo reference)

Personality

What words or phrases do they overuse? "Yeah, Bud!"

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Optimistic

Are they introverted or extroverted? Extroverted

Do they ever put on airs? Nope. You won't find a more chill, friendly guy.

What bad habits do they have? Nail-biting and hair pulling (trichotillomania, but he has to be very, very anxious)

What makes them laugh out loud?: So many things. And at inappropriate times.

How do they display affection? Gifts, acts of service.

How do they want to be seen by others? Reliable, approachable, trustworthy.

Strongest character trait? Seeing the best in others.

Weakest character trait? Blind loyalty.

How competitive are they? Very.

How do they react to praise? He loves hearing praise and being told he's doing a good job. It gives him warm fuzzies.

How do they react to criticism? He is very open to criticism as long as it's constructive.

What is their greatest fear? Not being able to save his loved ones.

What are their biggest secrets? He's an open book. Except for that whole...fake name-Lucio is my cousin thing. (Which he is not terribly good at hiding)

What is their philosophy of life? How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.

What haunts them? His mother's face when he left home.

What will they stand up for? Anyone, anytime.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? Outdoorsy.

What is their sinful little habit? He wouldn't consider it immoral, but he does indulge in some of the magician's...herbal remedies.

What sense do they most rely on? Sight.

How do they treat people better than them? As equals

How do they treat people worse than them? As equals

What do they consider an overrated virtue? Temperance.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? Probably would do better to realize that some people just can't be reached, but damned if he doesn't try.

What is their obsession? Fishing and his dog.

What are their pet peeves? People that touch his food without permission. Aedan doesn't share food! He will buy your food! NO TOUCH. (Though Celeste will note that he has no compunction about stealing her food.)

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of?: Small. Mama, Papa, Sister, and Him. There is, of course, the extended family and his tribe, but the core group was relatively small.

What is their perception of a family? Family is the most important thing.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger?: One sister. Same age.

Describe their best friend. Bit of a ditz. Funny (though it's unclear if he means to be). Dog lover. Drinking buddy.

Ideal best friend? Someone not afraid to throw their stuff in a satchel and get lost for a day. Bonfire under the stars. Loves dogs. Not scared of touching fish.

Do they have any pets? Ebba! Borzoi like M & M but with big brown patches and knows how to mind.

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child?: He was a happy, inquisitive baby. He was rough and tumble, always on the go. Occasionally he’d scare himself (falling) but he only needed to be told that he was okay and he’d keep on going.

Did they grow up rich or poor? They had no real need for money unless they were traveling, and then they mostly traded for what they needed.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? Nurtured.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? Left them. Wasn't his idea, though. Still feels terrible.

What are their ambitions? Getting to be free and live his own life.

What smells remind them of their childhood? Woodfire. Briny seawater. Spice.

What was their childhood ambition? Be the head of the rowers that went out to the islands.

What is their best childhood memory? Traveling with dad to the surrounding tribes and making friends with other kids.

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? No. He had so many friends he didn't have time for imaginary ones.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight? Maybe? His parents had an arranged marriage, and he thinks that's pretty fine. He likes getting to know people to make sure that what he's feeling is real.

How do they behave in a relationship? He's all about making his partner feel cherished and comfortable. He likes to move slow...ish.

What sort of sex do they have? He's not exactly wild. But, he's open-minded.

Has your character ever been in love? Sure.

Have they ever had their heart broken? Nah. If he parts with people, it's amicable.

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat? Try to reason. If not, try to subdue with as little injury as possible.

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Fists, honestly. If it comes to that. Even then, he'd probably just try to wrestle and pin them.

What is your character's kryptonite? The concept of someone he cares about being hurt.

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? His dog. Not an object, but things aren't that important.

How do they perceive strangers? Never met one.

What are their phobias? Ophidiophobia, so it's probably good that he never really got to know Asra because Faust would have scared him to death.

What is their choice of weapon? If he had to really fight, he'd use a one-handed battle-ax.

What living person do they most despise? Valdemar, but living and person are both kinda uncertain terms.

Have they ever been bullied or teased? No. Even if he was, it wouldn't bother him.

Where do they go when they're angry? For a walk.

Work, Education, and Hobbies

What is their current job? Head guard of the palace.

What do they think about their current job? Get to hang out with his bud most of the time, so that's pretty neat. Could do with less having to enforce his stupid decrees (which he finds ways around if he can.)

What are some of their past jobs? Fisherman and hunter.

What are their hobbies? Fishing, hunting, falconry, reading.

Educational background? No formal education. Dad taught him how to read and write, but he didn't have much use for either of those skills until he came to Vesuvia.

Intelligence level? Himbo-lite.

Do they have any specialist training? Jack of all trades, master of none.

Do they play a sport? Are they any good? Rowing and wrestling.

What is their socioeconomic status? Upper class? Lucio pays well.

Favorites

What is their favorite animal? Ebba.

Which animal to they dislike the most? Snakes.

What place would they most like to visit? He'd like to travel like his dad did before his parents got married, but he's not picky.

What is the most beautiful thing they've ever seen? Poppy fields!

What is their favorite song? No Hurry - Zac Brown Band

Music, art, reading preferred? Reading but music is a close second.

What is their favorite color? Green or blue.

Favorite food: Grilled stuffed portobello mushrooms with bleu cheese.

Possessions

What is in their fridge: Beer, red wine (that hefty stuff that leaves long tendrils when you swirl it. he likes to chew his wine). Meat, cheese, mushrooms, bread, a lot of veggies.

What is on their bedside table? Reading glasses and a book.

What is in their pockets? Money.

What is their most treasured possession? His dog. But calling her a possession feels terrible.

Spirituality

Do they believe in the afterlife? Sure.

What are their religious views? He believes in spiritual guides, and he believes in magic. Though he is sadly more like his father than his mother in that he really can't cast.

Are they superstitious? He's a little 'stitious.

What would they like to be reincarnated as? A peregrine falcon.

How would they like to die? Not the way he did, that's for sure. That sucked.

What is your character's spirit guide? Duckhawk!

What is their zodiac sign? Libra.

Daily life

What are their eating habits? An army marches on their stomach. He always makes sure to have a decent breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Do they have any allergies? Just pollen.

Describe their home. The palace. His room is pretty spartan. Bed, dresser, desk, couple side tables, mirror.

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Minimalist.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Try to get to the bath before everyone else does.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Nap or go for a hike out in the woods.

What do they do on a Friday night? Drink with Lou.

What is the soft drink of choice? If such a thing existed, it would be original Coke.

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? He's an appreciator of fine whiskey and wine. But, he won't turn his nose up at a good ale or cider.

Miscellaneous

What is their character archetype? The hunter.

Who is their hero? His dad.

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? Thor.

Are they comfortable with technology? Ehhhh. Not really. He can use it but would rather not.

If they could save one person, who would it be? He couldn't pick.

If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Linnea.

What is their favorite proverb? Friendship is love with understanding.

What is their greatest extravagance? Gifts. He buys gifts like the world will end tomorrow.

Do they believe in happy endings? Sure.

What would they ask a fortune-teller? Am I doing the right thing?

@vesuviasfastestcourier Will this help until I can write more Aedan fic? :)

#aric vernersson #aedan #character development #character creation #arcana oc #the arcana #oc #mc

8 notes · View notes

yingyuerc · 5 years

Photo

Note (skippable): Hi, I’m going to post about my character from Royal Chaos. A lot of stuff here is gonna contradict the canon story in the game but who cares about canon I came here for a good time baby. Anyway I don’t expect anyone to ever read or find this post cause Royal Chaos isn’t very popular on tumblr but I was bored and wanted to break writer’s block. I got very inspired by @sister-ruan and @lady-reinian so thank you guys for posting amazing content!

My Royal Chaos character — Jiang Ying Yue!

Name: Jiang Ying Yue, but call her Ying or Yue for short

Name meaning: Ying Yue means “Reflection on the moon”, Jiang means “river”.

Age: 17 years old.

Birthday: January 21st, she has always celebrated her birthdays on a beautiful winter day.

Western constellation: Capricorn.

Title: Consort decency, upper 2.

Appearance:

Ethnicity: East-asian (chinese) and European (unspecified)

Height: 5′5, or 165 cm.

Hair: Yue has black, straight hair and it’s very long and silky. It reaches below her waist and she usually wears her hair down. Yue takes very good care of her hair and has a strict routine she uses everyday. Yue has a special and expensive jade comb that she uses. She wears golden accessories on her head & hair to enhance her beauty.

Eyes: Ying Yue has sharp, cat-like upturned blue eyes that seem to appear more purple than blue. They’re framed by long, black lashes. Her eyes are a prominent feature to her beauty, and they always appear to be pensive.

Complexion: Yue has a natural olive skin complexion, but she uses pale make up on her face to match the fair skin tones of the other concubines. Although her skin is glowy and sunkissed, a pale complexion is unfortunately the beauty standard in China.

Body shape: Ying’s body is slender, svelte, thin, gracious, elegant after years of serving as a concubine and having to dance and entertain the emperor. She has long legs and soft, dainty features.

Voice: Yue’s voice is sharper and deeper than you expect. Her face is dainty and meek, but her eyes have an edge of sharpness to match her voice. she has a bossy tone when she speaks but still sound as smooth as the dewdrops on a lotus.

Personality:

Personality traits: |Daring|Bold|Brave|Determined|Bright|Clever|Smart|Cunning|Sneaky|Passionate|Ying Yue is a very daring and bold girl. She is not afraid of speaking what’s on her mind and she always faces a challenge head-on. Yue is strong and brave and doesn’t let other people put her down. She is also bright, clever and smart, and she can solve problems easily thanks to her cleverness. Yue enjoys a good challenge such as a good chess match, a tricky word game, or a tough riddle. Although years as serving as a concubine has made her sneaky and cunning, she lies to get what she wants and often work behind the curtains. A mastermind behind a devillish plan. She would do what it takes for the people she cherish. She is very passionate and persuasive.

Hobbies: Ying loves dancing and playing instruments in her free time. She practices dancing a lot and she is very good at it. She plays various chinese instruments as well as western instruments. Ying Yue paints a lot on beautiful days. She enjoys singing in the palace garden when the stars are shining and the moonlight cascades from the sky. Ying Yue adored board games and always play them with Yuexiu. She spends time with Wen Ruyan and solves crosswords-puzzles when Yuexiu is busy.

Likes: Pretty accessories (especially gold), purple, luxurious gowns, board games, puzzles, art, music, dancing, delicious food, sweets.

Dislikes: Being ignored, getting dismissed, disrespectful behavior, rival concubines, being underestimated, worms.

Strengths: Clever mind, very brave, caring for those she loves, an extraordinarily great dancer and musician, good at solving problems.

Weaknesses: Selfish, apathetic toward those she doesn’t care about, appears to be very untrustworthy if you don’t know her.

Misc:

Favorite food: Candied fruits. Especially candied cherry tomatoes.

Favorite color: All shades of purple, but favors Lavender. She often wears purple clothes.

Favorite animal: Koi fish.

Favorite mythological animal: Dragon.

Favorite scent: Lavender, floral scents.

Occupation: Concubine, consort decency.

Love interest: Er, the emperor Consort Nian

Background:

Financial situation: Poor, any money she hoards from the emperor she immediately sends to her family.

Previous relationships: None, aside from crushing on a dear friend she’ll no longer meet.

Location: China.

Family: Jiang Ying Yue has two brothers and one younger sister. Her brother, Yuan Wu, is 19 years old and is the oldest child in the Jiang family. He’s studying to become a physician, although the family is struggling financially. Yue’s other brother, Zhen Kun, is 15 years old and is the middle child of the family. He spends a lot of his days fishing. The youngest child in the Jiang family — Jiang Lei, 12 years old and loves picking flowers and attending their family garden. Yuan Wu has a sharp intellect, while Zhen Kun is laidback, Jiang Lei is meek and sweet. Ying Yue had a mother and a father, but they tragically drowned when traveling to a foreign land to sell wares. Ying Yue was seven years old when her parents died. She and her siblings had to live in poverty without parents to take care of them. Jiang Lei was often sick and they couldn’t buy her medicine. So when Yuan Wu grew older he wanted to study and become a physician. Meanwhile Ying Yue danced to get enough money for her family, and Zhen Kun sold fish and sea creatures that he found.

Backstory: Yue was born into a wealthy family that survived off on trading exotic wares and fine silk with foreigners. She and her family lived in a relatively lively village and they had relatives in big cities. Although her relatives had never visited her, or even acknowledged her existence due to her being half-foreigner. Her mother was a western woman with brown hair and peculiar blue eyes. Meanwhile her father was from a wealthy chinese family of merchants. When he married her his family protested and in the end disowned him. They moved to a nearby village and had four children. When Ying Yue was only seven, Yuan Wu nine, Zhen Kun five, and Jiang Lei two years old, their parents passed away by drowning. They were sailing to Yue’s mother’s homeland to sell wares until a storm hit them. Without any parents to look after the children, they had no other choice but to live in poverty. No relatives would help them, and Ying Yue had playmates from the village’s orphanage but they all told her the living conditions at the orphanage was awful and that she was so lucky to have a mother and father. Ying Yue broke down crying, and soon her older brother Yuan Wu decided that they should move into a bigger village, because at least there they’ll have a chance to beg for money from richer merchants and businessmen. Ying Yue was against the idea because she didn’t want to leave her best friend, Xia Lin from the orphanage. Xia Lin was a very stubborn girl, feisty, scheming and cunning. Xia Lin taught Ying Yue a lot and they were the closest of friends. Ying Yue had to say goodbye to her dearest friend and moved to a bigger village with lots of markets and merchants. Since Jiang Lei was only two years old at the time the sudden change of environment affected her the most. She got nervous and very sick, but they couldn’t get her medicine or see a physician. Ying Yue learned how to play and dance to entertain the villagers so she could help her family. Zhen Kun spent a lot of time around the lakes and rivers, occasionally fetching crabs and other sea critters. He sold them cheap to help his family. Yuan Wu wanted to become a physician to help his sister, but of course he was very young and found a physician to mentor him. As the years passed the Jiang siblings grew older. Ying Yue became extraordinarily beautiful, her dance movements more graceful and elegant, and she matured. Yuan Wu wanted to continue studying to finally become a capable physician. Zhen Kun loved fishing and spent most of his time near the water to find food for his family. Jiang Lei’s health improved, but she was still weaker than most girls her age. Unfortunately Yuan Wu couldn’t afford to continue his tuition since the Jiang family lacked money. Zhen Kun’s money from fishing couldn’t help much but feed the family. Jiang Ying Yue only saw one option, she forced herself to become a concubine to help finance her family. Ying Yue was 15 when she entered the palace as a concubine and she has served as one for two years, sending back the luxurious riches to her family. She regularly keeps in contact with them via letters. Yue didn’t like the emperor that much, she faked her nervous giggles and blushes to get money for her family. She doesn’t hate the emperor, in fact she’s very indifferent about him and quite apathetic. But she could never love him. Ying Yue never had time for men and she simply wasn’t interested in them. A lot of dramatic events unfolded, but Jiang Ying Yue kept going strong.

#Royal Chaos #RC #Lore #Character Info

12 notes · View notes

thephoenixmagician · 4 years

Text

Rhea Orasa || Character Survey

@cela-astral-projection - who presented a really awesome survey I couldn’t help but steal.

This is going to be long, so it’ll all be under the cut!

Basic Questions

First name?: Rheanna

Surname?: Orasa

Middle Names?: Elizeàn

Nicknames?: Rhea (her preferred name), Elize (by Mazelinka only)

Date of Birth?: March 28th

Age?: During the time of the Game, about 24.

Physical Appearance

Height?: 5’ 9”

Weight?: In the 160s

Build?: Hourglass.

Hair Color?: Vivid pink.

Hairstyle?: Usually leaves it down and curly, but might put in the effort to style it with braids or clips on occasion. Only straightens it on the rarest of occasions.

Eye Color?: Left eye is royal sapphire blue, the other is emerald green.

Glasses or contact lenses?: She doesn’t need them, or so she’ll insist. She might squint if something is just a little too far. She should wear them to read books or whatnot, but won’t.

Distinguishing facial features?: Her eyes, obviously. They just aren’t common, even where she’s from.

Which facial feature is most prominent?: Plump-ish lips, they’re a… favorite among the people she’s been with.

Which bodily feature is most prominent?: Her posture. She can’t quite get rid of the habitual sitting up straight and walking with her shoulders squared.

Other distinguishing features?: Stretchmarks on her hips, shoulders, thighs -she loves them.

Skin?: On the pale side. Has freckles, but more so on her cheeks and shoulders.

Hands?: Slender, with soft callouses from the years of grinding herbs and stripping bark. Always keeps her nails relatively short and neat.

Makeup?: She doesn’t mind on occasion. Eyeliner especially really makes her eyes pop. Won’t say no to eye shadow every now and then either.

Scars?: Plenty all over. The most notable of them are the long, thin ones zigzagging across her back from lashings and a branded sigil on her left hip.

Birthmarks?: Has one near her navel, very faint and looks like a heart to her.

Tattoos?: She’s got a few. One is a simple amaryllis flower that she’d gotten to honor her mother. And another in the center of her back is a replica of a magic circle used in rather powerful spells.

Physical Handicaps?: Occasionally has issues with her shoulder, a result from taking an arrow.

Type of clothes?: She’ll wear whatever, honestly, regardless of who it’s meant for. She’d rather be comfortable over everything though.

What are their feet like?: Kinda small, but soft. She’s got a scar on the bottom of one from stepping on glass once.

Race / Ethnicity?: They’re based of Danish or Norwegian for the most part. I haven’t put too much thought into it, really.

Are they in good health?: For the most part. Her mental health isn’t always in the best shape, but otherwise she’s alright.

Do they have any disabilities?: No.

Personality

What words or phrases do they overuse?: She uses the word “fuck” a lot. The girl can make even Julian blush with her swearing, but she keeps it in check for the most part. Otherwise, she’ll overuse

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic?: She’s learned to be more optimistic.

Are they introverted or extroverted?: Introverted, but she’ll whip out an extroverted persona when needed.

Do they ever put on airs?: No. She’s too blunt. You get exactly as expected with her.

What bad habits do they have?: Sitting very ‘chaotically’ everywhere, no matter if its in a chair, on the table, atop a fence, or wherever she happens to find herself.

What makes them laugh out loud?: She’ll burst into laughter if Faust whispers a suggestion for crime to her. They’re truly partners in crime.

How do they display affection?: She loves to be affectionate physically. Will trail her fingers up your arms and through your hair if you let her. Uses a lot of Latin pet names and presses her forehead to yours, a sign of love and deep vulnerability. Or, she’ll get gifts. Honestly, she’s fluent in whatever ‘love’ language you speak.

How do they want to be seen by others?: Normal.

Strongest character trait?: Loyal as hell.

Weakest character trait?: No self preservation at all. She’s very reckless.

How competitive are they?: She’s very competitive, but she’ll deny it.

How do they react to praise?: If it’s genuine, she’ll melt. On a rare occasion, she might even blush. But she’ll quickly recover and whip out that top energy to give her own in return.

How do they react to criticism?: She’s indifferent, really. She’ll listen to them, say thank you, and move on with how she sees fit. She might heed to it if it’s constructive to her.

What is their greatest fear?: Losing her memories again ties with being buried alive.

What are their biggest secrets?: Her heritage and status as next in line for a throne. Nadia had always known. Lucio figured it out later, but never spoke about it (surprisingly). But for everyone else Rhea left that part out every time when she talked about her past.

What is their philosophy of life?: “Commitment, resilience and perseverance will take you far.”

What haunts them?: The fact she blinded her sister. She’ll never get over that. And her mother’s execution.

What will they stand up for?: Whoever needs it. And she’ll always fight for the people.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy?: Outdoors.

What is their sinful little habit?: Will indulge in certain herbs... It helps her relax.

What sense do they most rely on?: Sight

How do they treat people better than them?: Equals.

How do they treat people worse than them?: Equals.

What do they consider an overrated virtue?: Obedience.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?: Her heritage and the fact she’s supposed to lead an entire country.

What is their obsession?: Books and pretty things.

What are their pet peeves?: Arrogance. Loud chewing. Leaving shoes out in the middle of the walkway.

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small?: Relatively small. It was just her mother, father, little sister, and herself. She had never met or heard of any other blood family members from either side.

What is their perception of a family?: It doesn’t have to be blood. She considers her friends family. She considers Salasi the Baker her family. It’s whoever she cares about and would do anything for.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger?: Just Adara, who is 2 years younger.

Describe their best friend.: Which one?

Ideal best friend?: Someone she can be wholly comfortable with.

Do they have any pets?: Do the neighborhood strays she feeds count?

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child?: As a baby, she was super clingy to her mom. She did not like being held by anyone else, not even her dad until she was almost a toddler. As a child, she was very wild. She was a rowdy little thing that some people would call a ‘tom boy.’ Her parents would call it ‘free spirited.’

Did they grow up rich or poor?: Rich until she moved to Vesuvia.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected?: Nurtured.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved?: When Asra asked her to go away with him during the plague, she had to break his heart to get him to leave without her. She’d already known she was sick and wouldn’t let him see her wither. She also told him she didn’t love him when he’d confessed, which was a lie.

What are their ambitions?: Be happy and live a full life.

What smells remind them of their childhood?: Lilacs, teak wood, burning sage, pine.

What was their childhood ambition?: Become a battle magician -like her dad was. Or travel the world like Auntie Zira.

What is their best childhood memory?: Before she lost control of her magic the first time, she’d shown her sister an illusion of the constellations in their bedroom. She made them dance and told stories. It’s a bit melancholic for her though…

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend?: No need.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight?: No.

How do they behave in a relationship?: Respectfully. She’s always aware of boundaries and never pushes them. She’s wholly committed and they receive every piece of her love.

What sort of sex do they have?: She’s down for anything. And will try almost anything at least twice. She’s a perfect switch and versatile, too.

Has your character ever been in love?: A few times.

Have they ever had their heart broken?: Maybe a few.

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat?: She’s very quick to act. She’ll try to subdue first, but if that’s off the table… she’ll do as required.

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or tongue?: Both, at the same time.

What is your character’s kryptonite?: The people she loves.

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be?: Assuming no soul is left inside, she’ll save a grimoire of her mom’s.

How do they perceive strangers?: As people, with their own lives.

What are their phobias?: Taphophobia, being buried alive. Claustrophobia, fear of confined spaces.

What is their choice of weapon?: Magic or a blade. Has no issue using fists though.

What living person do they most despise?: Despise is a strong word, but it’d probably be Valerius. She can’t tolerate him for long.

Have they ever been bullied or teased?: Plenty of times as a kid, but had no qualms about knocking someone in the teeth.

Where do they go when they’re angry?: A walk or run. Or, she’ll climb something, preferably a very tall cliff or palace wall. Any physical activity really.

Work, Education, and Hobbies

What is their current job?: Court Magician of Vesuvia, shop keeper, and [redacted cause spoilers]

What do they think about their current job?: It’s necessary.

What are some of their past jobs?: Court Magician, combat medic, shopkeeper, and personal guard to the Count

What are their hobbies?: She collects rocks, pressed flowers, odd trinkets, shiny shiny stuff.

Educational background?: Was trained in various forms of magic by her parents as soon as she could walk, as well as other combat styles with traditional weapons. She was taught other lessons in history, politics, and more to train her to become Queen, too. She learned most of her medical knowledge from Nazali and Julian.

Intelligence level?: She’s wicked sharp.

Do they have any specialist training?: Magic is her main focus.

Do they play a sport? Are they any good?: She’ll try any sport for fun; but, again, she’s competitive so don’t be surprised if she tries to kick your ass at it.

What is their socioeconomic status?: Upper-middle, maybe?

Favorites

What is their favorite animal?: All, especially if she can pet it.

Which animal do they dislike the most?: Birds kinda freak her out, just a little.

What place would they most like to visit?: Zadith or Nevivon. But she’s down to go anywhere at any time.

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve seen?: The sunrise from the highest cliff in Moonsea. She could see everything painted in orange, reds, and violets.

What is their favorite song?: Song of the Sea - Ashley Serena

Music, art, reading preferred?: Don’t make her pick. Please, don’t make her pick. Her head might explode.

What is their favorite color?: Black and purple.

Favorite food?: Seared scallops.

Possessions

What is in their fridge?: Fruit, certain herbs, beer, and more fruit.

What is on their bedside table?: A book (that’s cycled out after she’s finished obviously), sleeping draught, and the emerald necklace.

What is in their pockets?: Herb pouch, warding charms, stones, small pocket knife, that kind of stuff.

What is their most treasured possession?: A broken necklace. She can’t remember why it’s so important, but she never leaves without it tucked safely somewhere on her person.

Spirituality

Do they believe in the afterlife?: She believes there has to be something after all this.

What are their religious views?: Spiritual.

Are they superstitious?: Not in the “black cats are bad luck” way.

What would they like to be reincarnated as?: A bear!

How would they like to die?: Doesn’t care. It won’t matter afterwards.

What is your character’s spirit guide?: A bear.

What is their zodiac sign?: Aries

Daily Life

What are their eating habits?: She either eats non-stop, or goes without because she forgets. She’ll make sure it’s at least a balanced meal, for the most part.

Do they have any allergies?: She’s allergic to hazelnuts and bananas. Will still eat them and get calmly lectured for it by Asra or Julian, too.

Describe their home.: Organized, mostly. Everything is in a specific place. She cleans regularly, especially since ‘someone’ doesn’t remember to.

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder?: Organized clutter.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning?: Morning tea to wake her up and make her less grumpy. Then maybe breakfast of apple and rice pudding.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon?: Nap, read, nap again, sex, nap, snack…

What do they do on a Friday night?: Either go out with Julian, pull an ‘all nighter’ with Asra, or whatever. She’s done to go out or stay in.

What is the soft drink of choice?: She wouldn’t drink soda often, actually. So she’d have no preference.

What is their alcoholic drink of choice?: Anything but tequila.

Miscellaneous

What is their character archetype?: From this list: The Creator seems the most fitting. Let me know if you think I’m wrong.

Who is their hero?: Her mother.

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween?: She’d have a different costume every year. So a witch, a mermaid, an android (in Modern AU)… She’d never do the same one twice.

Are they comfortable with technology?: In a Modern AU, she’d like to use it quite a lot. It’d be useful to her.

If they could save one person who would it be?: That’s… a hard question.

If they could call one person for help, who would it be?: Asra, for sure.

What is their greatest extravagance?: Herbs, books, and stones.

Do they believe in happy endings?: She’d like to.

What would they ask a fortune-teller?: About what deck they use.

#Rhea the Phoenix #arcana mc #arcana oc #oopsies it's a long post!#I wanted to add photos but it wasn't cooperating #character survey

2 notes · View notes

hcrryofwales · 5 years

Text

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐐𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 / 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘, 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒.

crownshqs challenge iii / character study. word count : 2.8k / point count : 30.

001. describe your characters’ relationship with their mother or father, or both. minimum word count: 150.

harry’s relationship with his father is notably strained, their tumultuous ties are well known and vastly talked about in the english court and likely whispered about in foreign courts, as he blames edward from his mother’s departure from london and for publicly ridiculing her by parading his jezebel, isabel of york, around court as though she were its consort. his mother’s final years, ravaged by illness and neglect and humiliation, preyed upon his young mind for years and his last memories of her have soured his relationship with his father and his second wife. his bond with his mother, although highly idolised in retrospect, was strong --- though they saw each other seldom, he was a mama’s boy through to his core and thus his memories of her seem sweeter than the reality was; his mother was indeed quite ill for most of his life, plagued by guilt and grief over the death of her third child, and her ability to truly love her children in a healthy manner was compromised by the acrimonious and eventual public collapse of her marriage.

002. what are your characters’ most prominent physical features? what is a feature that they are most insecure about? what are they proudest of?

the hair is obviously quite prominent, even if to his chagrin. it’s symbolic more than anything, a nod to his joint heritage ---- the braganza’s fair, coppery colouring ( as his mother was a natural red head, though it faded throughout the years ) and the plantagenet’s strawberry roots ( noticeably, edward’s beard retains the scarlet tint of his youth. ) his height, especially in medieval europe, is also prominent. harry stands at an imposing 6′3 / 190 cm, and is considerably taller than that of his contemporaries. this is likely the feature he is most proud of ( but lbr, he’s an english king, he’s all about his #thicc and shapely calves. ) i wouldn’t say that he is particularly insecure about anything, most things that come to mind would be considered attractive by medieval standards --- namely his pasty white skin and the inability to grow a considerable beard.

003. how vain is your character? do they find themselves attractive? what is their worst flaw, and are they aware of it?

i would say harry is fairly vain ---- more so arrogant, though, and that neatly ties in with his greatest flaw. he thinks too highly of himself and assumes those around him are of the same mind. it isn’t entirely his fault though, he’s been born and bred to view himself as the best thing since sliced bread as the next god appointed king of england.

004. what is your character’s ranking on the kinsey scale?

3 out of six / bisexual, equally heterosexual and homosexual.

005. describe your character’s happiest memory. minimum word count: 150.

his happiest memories are all rooted in his childhood, and with his lady mother. the welsh countryside, the fierce sun drawing out the freckles on his cheeks, reddening the tint to his skin, warming his limbs. queen eleanor’s fingertips upon his shoulder blades, working into his developing muscles and broadening width, her touch often soothing, at other moments used to stay him and keep him from lunging out at one of lord warwick’s sons for stealing his lance and capturing the dragon before him. lady isabel neville, wife to the earl of shrewsbury, is there too with her young step children, yet ---- ignorance is bliss and childish innocence conceals all sins, so he is nothing but glad to see her.

as festivals are planned and banquets underway, the king has asked the nevilles to greet queen eleanor’s portuguese relatives, and harry is told by his mother that he will soon meet the woman who may one day preside as consort beside him, but she assures him, quells his immediate displeasure, in a way that his mother only could, by telling him that she would remain by his side throughout it all.

and that, with her hand on his shoulder, puts him at peace.

006. is there one event in your characters’ life that they would like to erase from their past? why? minimum word count: 200.

there are plenty. his mother’s death, isabel’s coronation, the date that an envoy from rome arrived on english shores to announce the pope had agreed to legitimise his half - brother alexander, the day of edward, his full - brother’s death, the day, even, that he was made prince of wales and styled as his father’s true heir. they all tie in directly to the humiliation queen eleanor received at the hands of the english court, the constant scorn she was subjected to as rival to the clever and wry dowager of shrewsbury.

he regrets these days -- chiefly -- because he believes he could have done more to protect those he loved. harry harboured plans to avenge his mother by granting her the title of queen mother upon edward’s death, and yet as we now know that day never came and his hopes were miscarried by eleanor’s death in 1452. since then, he has been in a constant, frenzied war with himself -------- unsure if he fears his mother’s replacement or alexander’s place in the line of succession more. harry has grown manic in wanting to prove himself as edward’s true heir and thus condemn the nevilles and their fitzroy scions in the public eye, by securing an alliance with the recently crowned trastamara pope, having been enraged with the pomp and circumstance they were bestowed by his father for numerous years.

007. let’s talk favourites! what is their favourite colour, food, and season? what, in a modern setting, would be your character’s favourite song?

his favourite colour is likely a toss up between red ( a rich red, the scarlet hue of a burgundian wine, the stain of fresh blood, darker than crimson ) or a stately blue that oozes with cool regality and pairs well with gold trim. anything that displays the wealth of the crown.

008. can you define a turning point in your character’s life?

the day isabel was crowned as queen in westminster abbey, harry shed the skin of a boy and began to genuinely work toward being king.

009. is your character an early morning bird or a night owl? at what time do they get most of their work done?

neither. he wakes up at an appropriate hour, or whenever his dalliance’s husband splashes him with water and kicks him out of their bed, though generally retires quite late as he is expected to host within court. i would say most of his work gets done later at night, as opposed to the early morning or midday, as this is when the majority of his public duties and outings have drawn to a close.

010 a. what other character, a npc or someone apart of the rp, is your character completely real with? who knows them best, has seen them at their most vulnerable, knows their innermost and basest fears?

if anyone, probably lianor montagu, and yet in any of his relationships he’ll tend to hold back. lia’s understanding is unquestionably greater and deeper than anyone else, but she certainly doesn’t know everything and he has carefully built a wall, a divider, between himself and others to avoid being picked apart.

011. is your character a neat or messy person?

i think, left to his own devices, harry can be a bit of a messy person. he’s so used to servants picking up after him, all eager to please him, that it doesn’t cross his mind to keep things tidy. that isn’t to say he would live in a complete pigsty if he went without maids and attendants, but it certainly wouldn’t be the most organised of spaces.

012. does your character have any irrational fears or phobias?

like the majority of his contemporaries, harry fears illness. the english court moves from palace to palace to flee from all traces of it, yet having contracted something akin to the sweating sickness when he was a boy, and having lost his mother to disease, harry has developed a strong phobia of infection and thus limits his royal outings to affluent areas, where the threat of plague is relatively subdued. likewise, harry will not receive those who are unwell, and will not sit at the bedside of dying relatives, out of fear of catching something.

moreover, harry fears, perhaps more than anything, anonymity and failure. it is his utmost desire to preside over england as king and usher in a glorious era for his kingdom. standing in the way of that is, obviously, his tentative marriage alliances and his half - brother’s induction into the line of succession.

013. does your character have an underlying passion or trait that influences all aspects of their life?

of course. i’ve touched on it several times but wanting to exceed his father, in light of the shame he put his mother, sister, and himself through, in all aspects is a hugely important guiding force in his life and something that influences -- or at least should influence -- his character and decisions.

014. what might your character’s ideal romantic person be?

someone who understands him so fully that he doesn’t need to explain himself.

someone who’s beliefs and underlying goals and desires match his own --- that their personal philosophies align with his; that, when disagreement rears its ugly head, it isn’t over something deeply critical to either of them.

someone with patience, understanding, and an understated resilience who can soothe him when he gets overworked or his temper flares.

someone who can withstand the burden of his infidelity and wandering hands.

someone who, when his eyes stray or his mind becomes transfixed on matters of state or militaristic pursuits, can ensure that his realm is run smoothly and will act as an upright representative at his side.

also, whilst i’d say he’s probably more sexually attracted to men, women tend to fill his emotional needs better and he does cling to them more as a result of some pretty keen #mommy issues.

015. describe your character’s hands. are they small, long, calloused, smooth, stubby, dexterous or clumsy? do they wear any jewelry and would they wear polish in a modern setting?

his fingers are long and lean, knuckles slightly reddened. his palm is wide and flat, able to stretch across a woman’s bodice with ease, and his grip is both strong and dexterous. he uses his fingers to expertly win at chess, alert his stewards of his needs with a brisk snap, and employs his hands liberally to gesture as he speaks. the pads of his fingertips are calloused and worn by years of equestrianism, jousting and fencing, though they are neatly trimmed, splattered with freckles, and generally soft to the touch, adorned with an emerald heirloom worn upon his pinky finger, and other jewels to flaunt the plantagenet’s vast wealth that correspond with his attire.

016. how does your character smell? what is their favourite scent?

whilst he prefers clean, crisp scents ( citrus, particularly oranges, sharp colognes and spicy fragrances, a hint of mint ) on a day to day basis he smells earthy.

he’s well known for his athleticism, and thus quite a bit of his time is spent on horseback, darting through the english countryside, weaving through woods and bathing in the fresh streams that course through his father’s lands. hence, his personal scent verges on earthy and woodsy.

you may also smell ale or wine upon him, or the lavender soaps that his footmen supply him to rinse his hair with.

in a modern verse, his favourite candle would be sandalwood, and he would wear a classic cedar chest cologne; a slightly spicy, musky, amber and vanilla - like woody aroma.

017. how would your muse describe their religious beliefs?

in the eyes of the public, harry will be a consummately catholic king, and it is vital that his future wife’s beliefs correspond with his own. religion has long been a tool used by the kings of england to appease their people, but indeed ------ harry is a spiritual individual and regularly, by choice, attends service; though his conduct may or may not align with the principles mapped out by scripture, as he believes rulers are allowed to float above them. harry knows that his lady mother would roll in her grave were he to abandon the faith, and like the rulers who have come before him, he believes that he was culled and hand selected by God to claim the throne.

018. what rules does your muse live by, if any?

harry lives by the rule that there are no rules ------ not for the heir to the english throne. he believes his birthright entitles him to act and do as he pleases, and he has little hair on his tongue in lashing out against those who could stand to crush him, having no fear simply because he’s his father’s son.

019. does your muse overshare, or are they more private?

within his inner - circle, harry has a penchant to overshare and, well, complain. but with those whom he is unfamiliar, he’s a closed book, and one that may seem delightfully intriguing to avid readers.

020. is your muse a gossiper? are they more likely to argue with their fists or tongue? what does their voice sound like?

whilst he does heed talk around court, and is likely aware of courtly happenings, i don’t think he’s all that interested in spreading it, beyond idle talk. there are far more important matters for the prince of wales to attend to, and if one gives over to gossip there is usually no end to it.

harry is more inclined to fight with his fists, but this should not lessen the obvious prowess of his tongue ---- he can spar with either, and yet the fierce lashes of his tongue are generally reserved for isabel.

he has a standard english accent and his voice is quite low and melodic, with certain welsh twangs here and there from his upbringing in ludlow.

021. is your muse a … pessimist or optimist … lover or fighter … believer in happy endings … believer in love at first sight?

somewhere in between a pessimist and optimist --- a realist, with lofty aspirations for himself. fighter. not a believer in happy endings ( but a believer in the endings one deserves, the endings one fights for ) and a believer in lust, not love, at first sight.

022. what sense of humour does your character have?

a boyish, slightly dry humour. he’s fond of crass jokes and will often make them himself, yet his sense of humour has been known to get him in a world of trouble with his advisers and foreign royals. blame it on a slip of the tongue.

023. what bad habits does your character have?

gambling, drinking, womanising... you name it. in a modern verse, he’d definitely be more likely to dabble in recreational drug or tobacco use, but since that’s fairly ... limited and / or outlandish in medieval europe i don’t think it would present much of a problem and he wouldn’t be at risk of addiction. also, vapes don’t exist in 1455 as far as i know, but you know if they did he’d be smoking that tutti frutti !!

024. how does your character feel about growing old?

there is a sense of opportunity to growing older, though there is also fear. growing older means becoming king, amassing power and loyalty ------- but, though he may be king, rulers are too made of clay and subjected to mortality as any other, and this, without a doubt, is among his greatest fears.

the idea of dying without achieving anything is troublesome to harry, and much of his desire to wed stems from the notion that his heirs and daughters will carry his legacy into another lifetime, that they’ll be used as politically influential pawns, that, if he should have a son, there would be no chance for his half - brother to inherit the throne, and this ultimately soothes his apprehensions to a certain degree.

025. does your character prefer adventure to safety and security?

adventure, certainly, although as i have touched upon before, adventure for harry is not the same for, say, a noble or a lesser member of court. there will always be a safety net beneath him, so while he may leap and bound, there has never been any fear that he would fall and thus it cannot be considered entirely dangerous or even adventuresome, perhaps more calculated than anything. thats privilege babey !!

#crhs.challenge #( 𝖎 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚. ) / * headcannons .#welp

7 notes · View notes