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eruden-writes · 2 years

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Desperation’s Summit - Part 4 (Rakash x Cordelia)

What happens when a rich human woman gets kidnapped by a troll in the mountains? The troll claims it was an accident, but is that really true?

cw: spousal death backstory

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When Rakash awoke the next morning, the first odd thing he noticed was how he felt. He sat up and stretched, rolling his head from side to side while rotating his shoulders. For the first time in months - maybe longer - he felt like he’d gotten a decent amount of sleep. He wasn’t thrumming with vigor, but at least the desire for sleep wasn’t constantly tugging at his eyelids nor were there aches from sleep-deprivation in his muscles.

Then, his eyes landed on the kitchen and his eyebrows furrowed. There were used bottles near the cleaning trough. While Rakash did leave dirty bottles for “morning him,” he couldn’t recall feeding all of his children last night.

He remembered getting a bottle together for Kazri and then-

A start as he awoke. Something soft and warm against the back of his palm. Cordelia staring up at him from a kneeling position at his knee.

Kazri’s rejection of his offer to continue feeding, choosing Cordelia over their own father.

Being forced to rest, watching Cordelia hold Kazri while humming and then…

Well, Rakash supposed he actually slept through the rest of the night.

Which didn’t make sense. Zalmir and Ebra still needed to be fed last night. That was one thing Rakash took solace in as he grudgingly laid down on his cot at Cordelia’s insistence.

But he hadn’t. And there were three dirty bottles waiting to be washed.

Could Cordelia have taken over last night? Fed his other two children while he slept? The thought sent conflicting feelings through his head and an itch down his spine. Rakash wasn’t sure what to make of that possibility.

From the corner of his eye, he caught movement in front of the fireplace. Cordelia shifted from under the blankets he’d given her, arching her back as she gave the most sinful waking up groans Rakash had heard in a long time. He watched as she pushed herself into a sitting position, rolling her neck from side to side. Rakash’s gaze couldn’t help but watch the slope of her neck stretch, first one side then the next.

When she yawned, her knuckles pressed to her lips, half-hiding her open mouth. Once more, he recalled Cordelia’s soft touch. His other hand grazed fingertips against his knuckles, gauging how soft her touch was compared to his. Quite a lot, he determined with an awful weight in his stomach. He scratched hard at his skin, trying to remove the memory from his flesh, as he suddenly stood.

“Alright, it’s morning. Time for you to go.”

“What?” Cordelia squinted at him, appearing to not comprehend his words. But then her eyes widened and Rakash braced himself as she bolted to her feet. Her fists were balled at her sides as she cast a fiery gaze on him. Briefly, her mouth opened and seemed about ready to loudly snarl, before her eyes flicked to the trio of cribs. Her lips snapped shut, eyes narrowing.

He almost stumbled back when the woman forcefully closed the distance between them. It must have been the vestiges of sleep that blunted his reaction as she grabbed at the front of his shirt. Cordelia beckoned him closer with a single finger.

Rakash leaned down, only because his triplets were sleeping. That was the only reason. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“You claim you didn’t mean to kidnap me,” Cordelia started, her voice low and her grip on his tunic unwavering.

“Yes.” Rakash mildly glared down at Cordelia, his gaze briefly falling to her hand still clutching his tunic before returning to her eyes.

If she noticed the look, she didn’t make any acknowledgement. Nor did she release the poor, strained fabric. In fact, Rakash thought her hold got even tighter, the cloth digging harder at the back of his neck as if she were minutely pulling him toward her. “And I was nice enough to help with your kids yesterday and this morning.”

Rakash made a grudging, but affirmative, sound in his throat. He couldn’t exactly deny it. And this confirmed that Cordelia had, in fact, taken care of Zalmir and Ebra, on top of holding Kazri as they finished their bottle.

“So, it is only fair that you - at the very least - return me to a town or back to my caravan,” she pressed on. Rakash opened his mouth to argue, but the infuriating human woman held up a hand to silence him. A pointed expression crossed her face, as she nearly hissed, “Even if it’s been ravaged by bandits, that will work in your favor as proof. I doubt they’re still hanging about a trashed camping site, however.”

He stared down at her, his eyebrows furrowed with thought. There was no doubt in his mind that the bandits were gone with the night. Even if they had stuck around, he’d be able to take care of them in the light of day. Admittedly, he probably could have taken on a number of bandits in the dead of night, as well, but his sleep-deprived state hadn’t wanted to risk it.

Rakash’s eyes flickered to the cribs, to his still sleeping children. There was not enough time to return Cordelia to her caravan. The three would be up and hungry.

Cordelia suddenly released his tunic, stepping back as she crossed her arms. “You want to be rid of me? Then take me back.”

Staring down at the woman, he weighed his options for a long silent beat. The expression on her face grew tighter the long she waited. He could see the awful things or ploys she was concocting in her head.

It was only guilt that kept him from just throwing her out into the snow. This whole ordeal was his fault. He cast a glance to his sleeping tots, lips thinning. Cordelia had helped in the short amount of time she’d been here. At the very least, Rakash got some sleep, even if the woman was aggravating beyond belief.

Would it hurt if he orchestrated her staying longer?

Rakash savagely shook the thought from his head. Yes, it would hurt, because he’d be manipulating her to stay. And she was so godsdamn annoying, to boot.

As he turned to prepare for the trek, Rakash hoped the triplets wouldn’t wake up before he got back.

x x x

“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t fly me down on that cat thing.” Cordelia heaved a put-upon sigh as she followed Rakash through the snow. She tried to step in his footprints, but his longer strides made it a little difficult. So every other step, she was slogging through snow in the admittedly decent boots. To his credit, Rakash had even pulled out a heavy coat with a hood and a pair of gloves for her.

“Marimone only listened to my wife,” Rakash said simply. Apparently, the ‘cat thing’ - which honestly was more like a snow leopard with wings, Cordelia conceded - was named Marimone.

However, Rakash’s explanation wasn’t enough for her. “But you feed them and house them. I imagine training them would be easy.”

“Marimone is not a pet. She is a wild animal who had a bond with my late wife.” Cordelia watched Rakash’s back as he spoke. Though his words had come out annoyed and harsh, nothing in his body language really portrayed genuine anger. Perhaps just talking about his wife to someone like Cordelia agitated him. “I give her a place to shelter and occasionally eat if she needs it, out of respect for my wife’s memory.”

Cordelia hummed, her gaze turning toward the snow and forest around them. “Maybe you’re just bad with animals.”

She bit back an amused smile as she watched Rakash roll his eyes.

They continued on in silence for awhile. Cordelia drank in all the details of the walk, faintly wondering if it was the same path that Rakash had taken her down last night. It was hard to tell. Everything looked so different than how she remembered it the other night.

Finally, Rakash’s nose twitched and he straightened up, presumably to get a better look through the branches. He paused, holding his arm out to stop Cordelia from moving further. “Alright, it’s just beyond this row of trees, but I should warn you-”

A sour expression crumpled Rakash’s expression, but he stepped to the side, holding the branches apart for Cordelia. “Ladies first.”

As Cordelia passed by him, she shot him a sardonic - somewhat sharp - smile. “Who knew you could be charming?”

In the light of the day, the campsite was different than Cordelia remembered. Likely, much had transpired since her departure, she figured, as her boots crunched through the snow.

Cordelia recognized the trees they pushed passed and small, usually insignificant, layouts of the clearing. A particular boulder, a bush, and - finally - something she didn’t remember. A body facedown, red staining the snow around it’s head.. Then another body and another, similarly enshrouded in red snow, some with paw prints going to and from the corpses.

As she picked closer to her own trailer, her eyes slid over the carnage. Broken bits of arrow, discarded weapons, eyes picked out by scavengers, shards of wood, muddy footprints, twisted limbs. She spotted faces she recognized, contorted in death. There were strangers amongst the dead, though, dressed in tatty but warm clothes. Likely the bandits that Rakash mentioned.

Rakash carefully watched her, as if prepared to catch her in a swoon. When it became obvious Cordelia wasn’t falling weak any time soon, the troll made a curious sound. “You don’t seem fazed by this.”

“I’ve seen worse,” she replied, simply and easily.

Rakash’s reaction wasn’t exactly what Cordelia expected. His eyes narrowed, his tail flicking back and forth with something akin to concern. “What?”

“Not in actuality, of course,” she chuckled, flashing the troll a smile. He didn’t seem to ease under her expression and, for the life of her, Cordelia couldn’t imagine why. There wasn’t exactly a reason for him to care about her answer. With a sigh, she further explained, “I just had a horridly active imagination as a child.”

That awfully overactive imagination was a huge reason why Cordelia feared the dark as a child. She’d seen all manner of horrors creeping her home’s halls. Figures with elongated necks and wobbly heads, still wearing a noose. Impaled warriors or headless bodies lumbering the halls. A small litany of those with black ooze trailing from eyes and mouth and nose.

No one listened to her, when she complained of the sights. Her parents and siblings ignored it. Her tutors explained her mind was simply running away with her historical studies. The servants simply sighed and rolled their eyes, or worriedly hurried away from her. So she stopped complaining, ignored it, and - eventually - it all went away. Like most childhood issues.

Even as she thought about it, an almost forgotten anxiety started to crawl up into Cordelia’s throat. Rakash’s eyes narrowing on her didn’t help. It only made Cordelia’s pace quicken to her wagon.

#exophilia #monster lover #troll #exo writing #fantasy romance #monster fucker #human x monster #monster x human #monster romance #desperation's summit #ds #desperation's summit part 4 #ds part 4 #rakash #cordelia #cordelia is like a cat yowling at a lion #lol #what do you mean your imagination never presented you horrors as a child?#you must have a boring imagination

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prfctparis · 3 years

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In a Sweet Sunshower

AO3 Link

summary: He Who Brings Rain and The One Who Shines Bright are siblings. It’s fitting that there’s a sunshower during one of the campaigns when their legions team up.

a/n: a few things about Tatooine Slave Culture in this is borrowed from fialleril here on tumblr, so all rights go to them for that. except for the sunshower thing, i came up with it while driving and wrote this as fast as i could and actually kind of proud of the concept ngl. fun fact! zariza’s name mean ‘gold, brilliantly bright’ in hebrew so obviously it means something similar here in this star wars universe.

There’s an old phenomenon, here on Tatooine – from thousands and thousands of years ago back when this place wasn’t all dirt and sand – where the suns shone high in the sky, and voluminous clouds did little to darken the earth below, and rain fell from them, soaking the life on the ground.

It never lasted long, a few or so minutes at most, but it always happened during the hottest season of the year. It was said to be a beautiful sight to behold. The down pouring rain and the bright shining suns, together. Apparently it looked like liquid gold.

Everyone called it a sunshower. All of the Depur took it as a sign for there to be tricksters coming their way. Some of the Amavikka said that it was a sign of hope from one of the ancient prophets – Ekkreth, or Maru, or Tena, or Ebra – or even Ar-Amu to the slaves.

But most said that during it was when slaves became Free for good.

…We haven’t had rain in ages.

Zariza huffs and grimaces. Every single part of her is sweaty and sticky, and the humidity of this planet’s region might actually end up being the death of her. No, not the droids they fought earlier, or the damn Separatists, or even a stray blaster bolt. But the humidity. She knows that hate isn’t a good thing for a Jedi to feel, but she hates it, through and through. The air feels suffocating – the exact opposite of what it should be – and makes the heat of the sun feel hotter than it actually is.

It’s horrible. She says as much to her Jedi Master.

“Yes, humidity does make what we’re doing harder. Unnecessarily so,” Mace agrees, sounding less annoyed and tired than his padawan but Zariza can hear the edge of the emotions in his voice. He isn’t fairing so well in this weather, either.

At least the battle is over. Now they just have to clean up everything.

The leaders of the planet had asked for clean up help once the fighting had ended and they had verbally agreed to officially join the Republic. Of course the 187th and 501st easily promised they would do so. Neither of the legions have somewhere important to be, except for maybe Coruscant or a High Council meeting, and so here they are. Sweating their asses off in the humid heat that somehow feels like a murder attempt.

“Take a break if you need it, Zariza – I don’t want you overworking yourself in this heat. It could be dangerous,” Mace says after a few more moments. Then to Commander Ponds, “Same goes for all of the one-eighty-seventh, Commander. Take as many breaks as you need.”

Zariza sees Ponds nod out of the corner of her eyes, followed by, “Yes sir, General. Lieutenant Spite and a medic squad are collecting bottles of water and setting up tents for shade. I’ve heard that the five-oh-first are doing the same as they work as well.”

“Good.”

Wiping her brow with the bare skin of her bicep, Zariza is glad that she had the foresight to leave her black cloak and outer tunic on the venator-ship. She now only wears the black boots, leggings, and the sleeveless white under tunic, which is now stained with dirt and a few specks of blood but she could hardly care. The troopers did earlier, though, especially at the beginning of the fight – lack of armor meant danger but Zariza wasn’t about to give herself a heatstroke. She at least still wore the braces for her forearms, and the chest plate that she has since taken off.

One of the troopers – Mayhem, she recognizes the armor – hands her a container of water hardly ten minutes later. She smiles gratefully at him and takes it, taking a few sips, and then hands it back. He caps the container, clips it on his belt, and they both get back to work cleaning broken droid parts and other various debris from the fight. Mayhem never strays too far from her. Zariza might have been annoyed by it if she didn’t know that he’s looking out for her.

On the other side of the large area that had been used a battle field against Seppie droids, are the 501st – her brother included. Like her, he has darker robes than the usual Jedi, and had also foregone the outer tunics because of the planet’s heat before battle started. Zariza won’t be surprised if he’s currently completely shirtless by now �� a risk for a sunburn, no doubt, with skin much paler than her own, but that’s his problem. She also knows for a fact that Ahsoka is wearing the tube top outfit she wore constantly before Anakin corralled her into wearing something more covering, a few pieces of armor included, just a month ago.

Hell, even Master Mace Windu is shirtless right now, the weirdness of it be damned. Some troopers have started to disappear regularly, leaving in full gear, only to pop up again with the top half of their blacks and armor gone.

Yeah. Humidity karking sucks.

Needing a break, Zariza leans against a lone tree nearby. She can feel the Living Force flowing through it and focuses on that as she catches her breath. Mayhem spots her and brings her more water without question.

“Thanks,” she sighs, and takes another sip.

Mayhem nods, undoing a second bottle from his belt, right next to where his helmet it clipped. He’s shirtless just like many of his brothers, curly hair frizzy as hell. “You’re welcome, sir,” he says. Once he’s had a few sips of his own, he asks, “How much is left in there?”

She shakes it, and shrugs. “Half, maybe?”

He nods again. “I’ll go back to one of the tents and refill it for you soon.”

She smiles thankfully. “Don’t forget to get yourself some.”

Mayhem chuckles. “Of course not, sir.”

After taking another drink, she hands it back just like before. But she doesn’t move to get back to work just yet. Master Mace nudges her in their bond, asking if she’s okay, and she tiredly pokes back to confirm that she is, all the while eying what’s left of the field to clean up. They’re getting there, but it looks like it will take forever. At least Anakin, Ahsoka, and the 501st are tackling the other half; and they’re getting closer, slowly but surely.

Her eyes flit up to the sky, and she spots grey clouds nearby. But, ugh – they aren’t close enough for them to get rained on.

It causes a frown to tug on her lips. A pout, if she wants to be honest about it.

Mayhem chuckles for a second time, more amused than before. “Finally saw the clouds, huh, verd’ika?”

Another trooper nearby stops and looks as well. A wounded noise escape them. “It’s so close but so damn far,” they say, forlorn. What a Force-damned mood.

“This humidity will be the death of me,” Zariza mumbles.

“That’s not happening on our watch,” they say, firm yet exhausted, the sadness about the clouds suddenly gone.

“Damn straight,” Mayhem agrees.

She can only groan.

Once Zariza has rested for a good few minutes, she stands up straight again, but instead of getting to work, she unties the knot of the yellow bandana at the nape of her neck. The wild, dark waves of her hair are no doubt frizzy and wilder than ever; earlier she was positive that she felt the waves grow in size because of the friz and the humidity, and she honestly doesn’t want to know what she looks like because of it. Quickly, she works on putting her long hair into a nerftail and ties it with the bandana.

What feels like ages later, the planet’s sun is beginning to finally lower in the sky and the 187th has done most of their half of the battle field. Through the bond, Zariza can tell Anakin is close by yet she stays lying on the ground, taking yet another much needed break. The clouds are closer, too. Yet still no rain.

The sound of boots crunching the dry, summer grass as someone walks gets closer and louder, up until the person stops right at Zariza’s head, casting a shadow over her. She blinks and tilts her chin to get a better look at who it is despite already having a pretty good guess. Anakin stands over her, sweaty and shirtless, with red tinting his shoulders, chest, and nose. His dirty blond hair is matted with sweat and it sticks to his forehead and the nape of his neck, a few of the short curls frizzed up, and his face is contorted into a scowl.

“I cannot believe I’m saying this,” he says, “but I miss Tatooine’s dry heat.”

“Agreed,” she grunts.

Anakin huffs and steps to her side. He then sticks out his flesh hand, and Zariza forces herself to sit up so she can grab it. He pulls her to her feet and almost immediately lets go once he’s sure she’s balanced well. The humid heat has made the brother-sister who hug every time they see each other, want to not be touching another body in any way for the foreseeable future.

Anakin runs a hand through his hair, grimaces at the sweat, and wipes it on his pants. Disgusting. “Been drinking enough water?” he asks.

She sighs. “Yep. You?”

“Yep.”

“Ahsoka?”

“Yep.” A beat. “Master Windu?”

She almost says ‘yep’ again, but decides not to. “Yeah, him too. Don’t worry.” She smirks. It’s no secret that before Master Mace took her as his padawan, that Anakin couldn’t stand the man. The feeling might have been mutual, but honestly Zariza doesn’t know and doesn’t care to. For now.

Anakin just rolls his eyes and flips her off, walking off to help Captain Rex and a few more guys of Torrent Company.

Ahsoka comes up to her a second later. The younger teen doesn’t say anything, and neither does Zariza. Usually energetic and happy to get her to know her Master’s little sister better, the heat has zapped the togruta of most of her energy. So in silence, they work together on a particularly large piece of debris, and then immediately head to the nearest tent for some much needed shade. Breaks are becoming more frequent, and Zariza thinks that maybe she will have to stop helping if they don’t finish up cleaning soon.

Anakin is already in the tent, along with Master Mace, Captain Rex, and Commander Ponds by the time the girls get there, and the two padawans wave a short greeting to the men before beelining where other troopers are giving out fresh water.

It’s when one of the Boys In Blue (as the GAR has started calling the 501st) hands them both a fresh container when it happens.

The sound of rain pelting the top of the tent makes everyone freeze. It’s obviously still sunny, but that doesn’t stop Zariza or any of the others to turn to check for themselves. And it is – no clouds directly above them at all – yet the rain is falling down, gradually increasing to a steady downpour. She blinks a few times and inches closer to the edge of the tent, and hardly a second later Anakin is at her side, looking out as well, mouth parted in shock.

“A sunshower,” Anakin whispers.

Zariza numbly nods.

Her mind conjures up a faint memory of being told of a phenomenon from hundreds of thousands of years ago on Tatooine. Of sunshine and rain, together. Of liquid gold. Of tricksters visiting Depur. Of a sign of hope to slaves, or a celebration for the Freed.

It doesn’t look completely like liquid gold like Amu’s tales said, but it was close to it. It’s still beautiful. A stunning phenomenon that neither Anakin nor Zariza believed they would ever get to see.

“They don’t last long,” she finds herself saying.

The Skywalkers turn their heads in unison to look at one another. Matching grins of excitement and mischief form, and without any prompting Zariza is taking off into the rain almost as fast as a blaster bolt, Anakin hot on her heels.

Zariza jumps into an already formed puddle. It’s right next to one of the 501st troopers, Jesse, and it splashes him. Zariza may or may not have used to Froce to make the splash bigger, but that doesn’t exactly matter. Just that there’s a sunshower, that her and her brother are both Free, and there’s a fucking sunshower and it’s amazing!

Jesse lunges at her, wanting to retaliate for getting splashed at, but she slips away easily with loud laughter.

From him, anyway – Anakin catches her a second later with water from a puddle cupped in his hands. He promptly dumps it over her head with laughter of his own, then misses up her hair just for the heck of it.

“Wha– ugh, Anakin!”

“Tag, you’re it!” he shouts, as if they’re eight and twelve again in the Room of a Thousand Fountains instead of sixteen and twenty in the middle of a field post-battle.

Zariza gapes at him, but it quickly turns into grins and she chases after him without a second thought.

It doesn’t take long for Ahsoka to join, or even for the troopers. Within seconds, there’s a large game of tag, troopers splashing in puddles, and almost everyone running in the rain with the sun shining down on them, laughter ringing out into the open and so much Light seeping into the Force that Mace can’t help but shove his Commander into the rain as well.

…Yes, we haven’t had rain in thousands upon thousands of years.

But it is said that one day, when the twin suns shine hotly over Tatooine, that clouds will form once again yet they will not obscure the twins from sight, and a downpour of rain will wash over everyone.

All the slaves will be Free, and Depur will no longer have power over us.

We will have a sunshower once more.

#anakin skywalker #tatooine slave culture #star wars #star wars oc #star wars fanfiction #clone wars oc #mace windu #my writing #oc: zariza #take the fear that i don’t need

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generic-blog-name-69 · 4 years

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Could you do a Race Higgins x reader where the reader is Spots younger sister and he’s super protective (along with the rest of the Brooklyn boys)? I know it’s kind of a cliche one lol but I love the big brother trope for him :)

A/n: Sure! This got a lot later than I originally thought it was going to be. I also combined this with another idea that I had, I hope that’s okay! I hope you enjoy! Also, this is unedited so read at your own risk.

Words: 3,298 ----------------

“Zebra escapes the zoo! Get the story right here!” you called out in a desperate attempt to sell more papes. The headline was garbage today, as usual, and you were trying everything you could to sell even ten. After all, you were saving up for dance lessons. Well, you, your brother, Spot Conlon, and the other Brooklyn newsies.

Eventually, you managed to sell your last pape, and you started to head back to the Brooklyn Newsboy Lodging House. Normally, girls weren’t allowed to be newsies, but since your big brother was the King of Brooklyn, they made an exception.

“Hey, (y/n),” some of the newsies called out in greeting.

“Hey.”

You walked up and put what money you weren’t going to need for dinner or breakfast in the “dance jar”, which was just a normal jar, but it was where the newsies put whatever money they could spare to help pay for your dance lessons. After a couple of months of doing this, the jar was almost to the top. You loved your newsie family.

You went over to your bed to read for a bit before dinner. A shadow fell across you, and you looked up to see your older brother staring down at you, grinning.

“Hey, Spot. What’s up?” you asked, slightly confused. He didn’t grin much, so you wondered what was going on.

“Hey, (y/n).” He sat down on the bed, still smiling. You went back to reading, thinking that if he wanted to tell you something, he would tell you.

Several minutes later, however, he still hadn’t told you anything, and you could feel him staring at you.

You sighed and put down your book. “If there’s something you want to tell me, just say it.”

When Spot continued to just grin at you, you added, “Is there something you want to tell me?

He scooted closer to you and showed you a handful of coins. “Guess what we have enough money for,” he prompted.

You felt your eyes widen as you squeaked out: “Dance lessons?” He nodded. You squealed with delight, getting off your bed and jumping up and down. The other newsies were laughing at you, but you didn’t care. You were going to have dance lessons!

“The first lesson is tomorrow, right after dinner.” Spot had also stood up.

“Can you wait that long?” Hotshot teased gently. Everyone laughed, including you, but you could see Spot getting a little defensive. You put your hand on his arm and softly said, “Hey.” He looked at you, and apparently could see that you weren’t mad. He calmed down a little bit and took a breath. You smiled at him and went back to reading, although your mind was focused on the dance lessons. What would your teacher be like? Would the class like you?

Stop it, you told yourself. I’m going, and who cares if they don’t like me? My brother’s the King of Brooklyn.

You eventually drifted off into an uneasy sleep, full of excitement for the next day.

You practically bounced into the dance studio. You were so excited! You glanced around at your new classmates. Many of them were girls, but there were a few boys there. One in particular caught your eye. He had curly, dirty-blond hair, and piercing bright blue eyes. He looked your way, and you immediately dropped your gaze to the floor. In his dance bag, there was a packet of cigars. You didn’t smoke yourself, but you knew of a few newsies who did.

Of course, you didn’t know if this guy was a newsie. He looked about your age, maybe a year or two older. You decided to risk looking up again, only to see that he was still looking at you. He grinned and started walking towards you.

“Hey,” he said, grinning.

“Hey.”

“So, you’se is takin’ dance classes?” He talked like the Brooklyn newsies did, but he had a slight accent that you had heard somewhere before. If only you could remember where…

“Huh? Oh, oh yeah. Yeah, I am.” You mentally scolded yourself about how stupid that sounded. The boy didn’t seem bothered, though. He grinned again and stuck out his hand.

“The name’s Racetrack. Racetrack Higgins. Well, my real name is Anthony, but you’se can call me Race.” He winked at you, sending a swarm of butterflies into your stomach. It was all you could do to shake his hand.

“I’m- Manhattan!” You suddenly remembered where you had heard Racetrack’s accent before. It was the accent of a Manhattan newsie, who were pretty much the Brooklyn newsies sworn enemies.

“You’re Manhattan?” Race asked teasingly.

You blushed. “No, I- My name is (y/n). I was trying to figure out where I had heard your accent before.”

“Sure, Manhattan. Whatever you say.” He winked at you again.

Before you could think of a witty reply, the music started, indicating that it was time to start the class. You and Race drifted over to the ballet bar.

An hour later, you were a sweaty mess, but you knew that you had finally found your passion. You were grinning from ear to ear, eager to get home to tell Spot all the amazing things that had happened.

“Hey, Manhattan,” said a voice from behind you, making you jump.

“Oh, Race. It’s you,” you said, calming down when you saw his bright blue eyes. I could very easily get lost in those eyes, you thought.

“So, where do you live? I’ll walk you home,” he offered.

“Oh, I- I don’t think that would be a good idea.” You immediately regretted your words when you saw the hurt look on Race’s face.

“Why not?”

“Well, I- uh, I…” You didn’t want to tell him that you lived in Brooklyn; that was sure to make him hate you. However, you didn’t have any choice but to tell him when he turned away from you.

“I’m a Brooklyn newsie. I don’t think the others would take kindly to a Manhattan newsie on their turf,” you blurted out. Race turned back to you, looking confused, but now intrigued.

“I never knew no girl newsie before.” He took a step towards you again. “Why’d they let you be one?”

You swallowed. “My brother’s Spot Conlon.”

Race looked shocked, then took a step away from you.

“I- I’ll see you next week, (y/n).” Then he took off running.

You trudged back to the Brooklyn Lodging House, your good spirits somewhat crushed. Why did he have to leave like that? You sighed. If only you weren’t from Brooklyn. If only your brother wasn’t the most feared newsie in New York. If only…

Stop it, you scolded yourself. I could “if only” all day, but that isn’t going to change the fact that Racetrack Higgins, is scared of my big brother.

The door creaked as you opened it. You walked into the room, letting your heavy footfalls ring out. As soon as you entered the bunk room, you were greeted with a dozen voices all calling out greetings.

“(y/n)!”

“Hey!”

“Look, (y/n)’s back!”

And there was your big brother, standing there, waiting for you. As mad as you were at him earlier, all the feelings of how amazing it felt to be dancing rushed back to you and you ran to hug him.

“So it was good, then?” he laughed.

“Oh, Spot, it was absolutely amazing!” You described what dancing was like, and you were so enthusiastic that some of the newsies asked you to teach you a few steps. You went to bed ecstatic, but you had no idea how much better your life would get in the morning.

The next morning you got up to sell papers as usual. There was nothing off about your morning, except you having a bit of a spring in your step. The newsies all smiled at how happy you were. It was rare that any newsie had much to smile about, so when someone did, everyone was practically over the moon.

By lunch you were longing to dance again. You couldn’t wait to get back into that studio, with the soft piano music floating in the air…

Before you knew it, you were dancing on the sidewalk. A small crowd had gathered to watch you, and when you were finished, everyone applauded. You blushed and picked up your pile of papers. A lot of the crowd, upon seeing that you were a newsie, bought a pape from you, sometimes paying extra. By the end of the day you were in an even better mood then you were that morning.

You walked into the lodge in a better mood than you were normally in. It was the kind of happiness that is impossible to not be happy around, and soon all the other newsies were smiling too.

Spot suddenly walked in smiling, and kissed you on the cheek. You smiled back at him, a little confused. He moved his hand slightly, drawing attention to the fact that he was holding something.

“What’s that?” You asked, intrigued.

“Oh, this?” He teased, holding up an envelope. “I don’t know, what is it?”

“Come on, Spot, give it to me!” You stood up, making a grab for the envelope. He tried to hold it out of your reach, but, him being so short, it was not hard for you to grab it.

You opened it and found a large pile of coins inside. You looked at your older brother disbelievingly.

“Is this-”

“Enough money for the next month of dance lessons. I thought you’d like it.”

You squealed and hugged him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Everyone else was smiling, too. For newsies who didn’t have much to be happy about, you seemed to have an abundant amount of happiness over the past few days.

The month flew by. Ballet lessons ended, and the next month was about to begin.

You walked into the now familiar studio, no longer worried about what the others would think of you. You didn’t have much of a chance to talk anyway, only before and after class. Race had avoided talking to you after the first week, and you couldn’t help but be discouraged about what it meant for his feelings for you. He had shown some interest in you, right? Whatever might have been there once clearly wasn’t there now, however.

You sighed. You could spend all day thinking about this, and it would get you nowhere. You pulled yourself out of your thoughts in time for your instructor to announce the next type of dance you would be learning: ballroom dance.

“I will give each of you a partner, and they will be your partner for the rest of the month. You will do all your ballroom dancing with them. Now, here are your partners.” She proceeded to read off the names of the people who would be partnering with each other.

You couldn’t help but glance at Race. How awesome would it be if he was your partner? You would be dancing together for a whole month!

“(y/n) and Racetrack.” The instructor continued on with the list of names, but to you it didn’t matter. It was all you could do to keep from squealing. This was what you had imagined!

You glanced at him again. He had started walking over to you! Your mind suddenly took you back to the first day that you met him.

“So, you’se is takin’ dance classes?”

“Huh? Oh, oh yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“The name’s Racetrack. Racetrack Higgins. Well, my real name is Anthony, but you’se can call me Race.” He winked.

You pulled out of your flashback just in time for him to slide up next to you.

“So, we’s partners.”

“Yeah, yeah we are.”

The instructor demonstrated what you were going to do, and the music started.

“May I have this dance?” he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, taking a slight bow. You could feel yourself blush as you started the dance.

Race was a really good ballet dancer. But he was an amazing ballroom dancer. He glided across the floor, taking you with him. His movements were like liquid, but at the same time he was solid and sturdy to hold on to. You found yourself wishing that this moment would never end.

You came back to the lodging house with your head in the clouds, replaying the class over and over in your head.

The two weeks that followed were a sort of magical blur, with each class being better than the last. You and Race grew closer everyday, to the point where you thought that you might be slightly more than friends. At least, you hoped to be.

This class was no different from the rest: Race danced with his usual unearthly beauty, taking you along with him.

After the class ended, Race walked up to you, which was normal. After the first month, he had started talking to you again after class. You had no idea why he had stopped talking to you, but you thought that it probably had something to do with the fact that you had Spot as your brother. The only thing out of the ordinary today was that Race seemed a bit nervous about something.

“Hey, ah, (y/n).” He ran a finger through his hair and breathed out. You raised a single, questioning eyebrow; he never called you by your real name.

“Hey.”

“Um… I was wondering… if, ah….” He ran another finger in his hair. This was a shock. Race normally couldn’t shut up.

He suddenly sat down dejectedly. “Ne’ermind, it’s stupid anyway.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you said, perking up. “What is it?”

He turned to look you in the eyes, and you were struck again by how blue his eyes were. He looked back at the floor, leaving you breathless.

“Doyouwannagooutwithme?” He looked at you again and you saw fear in his eyes. He was afraid of what would happen between you two. And honestly, you were too.

You swallowed, considering everything. What would Spot say? What would happen to your friendship if you said no? If you said yes? This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?

Slowly, you nodded. You looked up and saw the shock in Race’s eyes, and you nodded more vigorously. Before you knew it, you were practically jumping.

“Yes!” you said. Race was laughing, with relief or delight, you weren’t sure. He grabbed your hand and together you walked out of the studio.

Two hours later you walked back to the lodge, the happiest you had felt yet. You were singing softly to yourself as you entered the lodge. Your elation evaporated when you saw your older brother. He was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, all five feet four inches absolutely terrifying.

“Where were you?” he demanded. You swallowed. You decided to ignore his question for the time being by setting down your stuff and crossing to your bed. There were no other newsies in the room; it was just you and Spot.

“I asked you a question.” he stepped closer to the bed.

You sighed and laid back on your bed. “I was on a date.”

You knew that that was the wrong thing to say. You could feel him practically explode next to you.

“You. Were. WHAT?!”

You started to answer again, but he waved you off. He started pacing the room, asking more questions.

“Where did you go? Who was it with?”

Since you just going on a date made him practically explode, you decided that you couldn’t tell him that it had been with a Manhattan newsie, in Manhattan.

“It was with a guy I met in my dance class.” There. That wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie either.

Spot was breathing really heavily, and you thought that he might actually explode. You felt your emotions rising, too.

“What does it matter to you, though, Spot? It’s not your place to be in control of my life.”

“Yes, yes it is!” he practically screamed. “As your older brother, I have every say of how your life should go! And you know what, I was going to pay for the next month of dance lessons, too. But now I am definitely not!”

You felt your cheeks reddening. “Well you know what? Maybe I- I didn’t want to go next month anyway!” It was a lie. Those dance lessons were everything to you. But you didn’t need Spot to know that.

However, he could tell it was a lie and called you out on it.

“Ha! You couldn’t live without those lessons.”

“Maybe I couldn’t, but I definitely can live without living here.”

You turned and stormed out of the lodging house.

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

“That was a bit harsh, Spot.” The rest of the newsies had come back in, after hearing the whole argument from the other room.

Spot sighed and ran a finger through his hair.

“I know,” he said slightly shakily. He turned and looked at the newsie who had spoken. “But she’s the only family I have left, and I can’t bear to lose her.”

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

You didn’t know where you were going until you got there. Half an hour later, you knocked on the door of the Manhattan Newsboy Lodging House. You smoothed your hair and bit your lip, both things you did when you were nervous.

A newsboy you didn’t know answered the door and looked at you questioningly.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Is… is Race here?”

The newsie nodded and gestured for you to follow him. The Manhattan Lodge looked a lot like the Brooklyn Lodge. You wound your way through a sea of newsies, all of who gave you questioning looks. Eventually you saw him. Racetrack Higgins. You couldn’t help yourself. You ran and threw yourself into his arms. He was surprised at first, but as soon as he recognized you he hugged you back. It was too much for you. You started to cry.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, gently patting you on the back.

“I… I ran away.”

He pulled away to look at you, with tears streaming down your face, your eyes red and your nose running. You knew you must look like a mess, but at the moment, you didn’t care.

“Why?” he asked, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“Spot got real mad at me ‘cause he found out we…” you hesitated, not sure that he wanted the others to hear. He took the hint and asked for a bit of privacy.

“So Spot got mad at you?” he asked once they were all in different rooms. You nodded.

“You… you wanna stay here for tonight?”

You looked up at him. “You mean it?”

He wiped away more of your tears. “Of course! I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

You tackle-hugged him again, so thankful that he was here.

Twenty minutes later, and after much debate, you were in Race’s bed. He had insisted on sleeping on the floor. You tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. Sometime, around midnight you guessed, it got really cold. You started shivering in your blankets, so you couldn’t imagine how Race was. You decided to check. You rolled over again and looked down to see him staring at the ceiling.

“Race,” you whispered. He looked at you. You pat the bed next to you. He didn’t hesitate; he climbed right in next to you. The poor boy was freezing! You moved closer to him to share your body heat, and he wrapped his arm around you.

Spot or no Spot, you thought to yourself, there’s nothing that could take this boy away from you.

#Newsies #newsies x reader #Race #Racetrack #Racetrack higgens #Race higgins #Racetrack x reader #Race x reader #spot conlon #x reader

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aion-rsa · 4 years

Text

Psych 2: Lassie Come Home Easter Egg and Reference Guide

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

The following contains spoilers for Psych 2: Lassie Come Home.

As fun as 2017’s Psych: The Movie was, its 2020 sequel Psych 2: Lassie Come Home will likely supplant it in Psych-Os’ hearts, because it’s got 500% more Carlton Lassiter (Timothy Omundson). But how does it stack up to its predecessor in terms of Psych callbacks and pop culture homages? Using our Spencer powers of observation, we’ve tried to catch every recurring inside joke between Shawn (James Roday Rodriguez) and Gus (Dulé Hill), plus all the episodic-specific bits. It’s a feature-length Hitchcock homage, but it’s also the toughest Easter egg hunt of your life. C’mon, son!

Psych 2: Lassie Come Home Easter Eggs and References

The title is a reference to Lassie Come Home, the 1943 Lassie movie about the beloved dog making her way home from Scotland. A German-language remake came out early in 2020.

It’s always a treat to hear the Psych theme song “I Know, You Know,” performed by creator Steve Franks and his band The Friendly Indians.

Lassiter wakes up to Shawn and Gus hovering above him at the recovery clinic is a throwback to when they kidnapped him for his bachelor party in “Deez Nups” and he came to with them screaming “Surpriiise!”

Morrissey the rescue dog reprises his role from Psych: The Movie in being adorable, incredibly nosy, and oblivious to Shawn’s hissing commands.

Sarah Chalke’s nurse character Dolores is most likely a nod to San Francisco’s Mission Dolores church and cemetery, the location for Carlotta Valdes’ grave in Vertigo.

Right out the gate, Dolores is treated to the requisite Gus nickname: “My name is Shawn Spencer, and this is my partner Bill Poopingtons.” However, Shawn and Gus take a sidebar for a very meta argument about their ongoing bit (while fitting in another bit):

“Gus, don’t be the night your dad fell asleep inside your mom. We can’t just stop doing bits we’ve been doing for ten years. We have fans, they have expectations, there’ll be a huge backlash.”

“Shawn, we are two dumbasses, we do not have fans.”

Compromise: Gus gets right of refusal until they land on a nickname he prefers. And so:

Bill Poopingtons > All the Pips in One

Ding-Dong Ditch > Claude O’Dern > Big Poppa Pump > Lemon-a Lemon-a Lemon-a Liiime

Leggo My Eggo > Norman Brown Butter > Dijon Hounsou

Gus also calls himself Jermajesty, channeling some Jackson Five energy.

“Black Jello” was Gus’ nickname in their adult dodgeball league.

The Herschel House is likely a nod to Herschel Daugherty, who directed over two dozen episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents…

Gus and Shawn are still bickering over driving the drivers ed car, even if we don’t see it in the movie. They do manage to be just as bad at turning the right direction when riding a motorcycle together.

“Now I know this ‘goofy little white guy/sexy black dude’ routine the two of you have going like the back of my scrubs.” Sarah Chalke played Elliot on Scrubs, whose JD/Turk bromance walked so that Shawn/Gus could run.

Shawn calls Dolores “the nurse from Color of Night,” the 1994 Bruce Willis erotic mystery thriller that won a Golden Raspberry for Worst Picture.

The boys get Jamba Juice because you never turn down an opportunity for a Jamba.

Shawn likens Gus’ pubic hair to Eddie Murphy’s mustache in his 1987 stand-up film Raw.

Shawn offers the dismembered hand to Gus to “knuck it up softly,” per their penchant for fist-bumping.

They later do fist-bump outside the old Psych offices, but not before channeling Han Solo and Chewbacca in Star Wars: The Force Awakens: “Gus, we’re home.” “[Wookiee sound]”

Psych has become a French-themed cat café… for now, at least. It’s not an alternative universe from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, but the current subletter’s pop-up business. The proprietor (not the girl from Orphan) is played by Allison Miller, James Roday Rodriguez’s co-star in A Million Little Things.

“I am a psychic. He is a sympathetic pooper.” Poor Gus’ intestinal system gets called out again.

Henry’s (Corbin Bernsen) put-on voice gets compared to Tom Waits, Kathleen Turner, Harvey Fierstein, and Diedrich Bader.

Shawn neglected to tell his landlord that he’d moved, which tracks with his behavior in the series finale “The Break-Up.”

Henry reveals that in addition to telenovelas, he enjoys zeitgeist-y sobfests: “You left behind a slow cooker with a three-pound roast in it. You nearly This Is Us-ed the entire block.”

“This Is Us—Dad, why are you watching that show? They have the same show on ABC but newer”: Shawn’s shoutout to A Million Little Things.

Lassiter mistakes Reese Kessler, his supposed shooter, for country music singer Conway Twitty.

Lassiter’s to-do list includes “tape Galavant,” the short-lived musical comedy fantasy series created by Dan Fogelman (This Is Us), in which Timothy Omundson played King Richard. It also includes items poking fun at Lassiter’s crankiness (“yell at nature,” “chirping bird d-day plan”) and tenacity (“solve black dahlia”), and heartstring-tugging items (“pre-register for ironman” as in the triathlon). He also has written down Shawn’s S.E.I.Z.E. mantra from his short-lived career as Lassiter’s life coach in “S.E.I.Z.E. the Day”: Seize Eggs I don’t know Zebra Eighties.

Juliet (Maggie Lawson) lying to Shawn sounds strange, though not as strange as Lupita Nyong’o—the Tethered Lupita—in Jordan Peele’s Us.

Shawn’s “romantic dinner” for Jules is the menu from A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving (jelly beans, pretzels, buttered toast, popcorn, and ice cream sundaes) because it’s all they had at the gas station on the way home.

That prompts an iconic “C’mon, son!” from Gus.

Gus’ ringtone is “I’m Mr. Bootyman,” which is both Henry’s ringtone and the song featured in Buzz McNab’s bachelorette party stripper routine in “Deez Nups.”

Gus’ (technically Jules’) green snuggie bears a striking resemblance to official Psych contest merch.

Lassiter spotting mysterious bleeding figures out his window is an homage to Rear Window.

Richard Schiff (as Dr. Herschel) was Dulé Hill’s co-star in The West Wing.

Potterhead Gus wants to know if there are any people hiding in the pipes of the Herschel House, “speaking in their own tongue, perhaps Parsel.”

The Psych boys’ map of suspects briefly includes the Hell Hag from Gus’ dreams in “A Nightmare on State Street.”

Shawn has only been to Norway once with his brother-in-law Ewan O’Hara (John Cena), but they don’t talk about that… Maybe that’s where Psych: The Movie went after its cliffhanger ending?

Ova’s Norwegian song/chant toast at the Viking’s Ice Den is very similar to the Swedish toast in “Right Turn or Left for Dead.”

Ova’s violent son Per is first described as “the bearded Daryl Hannah.”

Shawn’s excuse to Detective Buzz McNab (Sage Brocklebank) for being in Santa Barbara is that he forgot a frisbee signed by German writer/director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck.

Shawn’s first reaction to Jules potentially being pregnant: “You know the windows in the loft don’t even fully close, right? I’m gonna have to replace them, otherwise this is Baby’s Day Out all over again.” As Gus reassures him, he always did get worked up over John Hughes’ worst idea.

At the old Psych offices, Shawn pulls out the jousting lance from “100 Clues”—as well as a pineapple! He looks about to ask, “Should we cut this up for the road?” (his question during the pineapple’s first appearance in the pilot, plus at the end of Psych: The Movie) but stops himself.

When Lassie believes that fellow patient Mr. Wilkerson (Kadeem Hardison) has been walking around, Shawn and Gus have to go “full Dirty Rotten Scoundrels” to interrogate the supposedly catatonic patient.

Shoutout to Jessie Spano’s infamous “I’m so excited, I’m so excited, I’m so scared!” speed speech from Saved by the Bell.

If it’s not Scrubs, the boys are getting compared to Ren and Stimpy.

Mary Lightly (Jimmi Simpson) returns in another incredible, extra-hallucinatory look into Shawn’s brain… this time as a baby, since Shawn’s got fatherhood on the brain.

“We got jackaled!” Gus shouts upon learning that Wilkerson can walk—a reference to “hitting the jackal switch,” or going into stealth mode.

Shawn has always had a thing for singer Jewel, even after the Civil War movie (1999’s Ride with the Devil) and the Bollywood song.

Of course there’s a nasty dance when Shawn and Gus figure out who they think is behind everything.

Gus declares that “I am not going to let you shoot Shules’ baby!” only for the Chief (Kirsten Nelson) to ask, “What’s a Shules?” That’s the fans’ name for Shawn/Jules, a cute nod to a series OTP.

And of course, we can’t forget the fact that Jazmyn Simon, who plays Selene, is Dulé Hill’s real-life wife.

More than once, Shawn quotes The Handmaid’s Tale in reference to Gus and Selene’s baby: “Praise be” and “Blessed is the fruit.”

Dolores compliments Lassiter’s “chest of hair plentiful enough to wake all of Destiny’s Child.”

Shawn comes up with possible names for Gus’ child: Shaft, Shaftie, or D’Shaft—just like Gus’ nickname Sh’Dynasty (with a “God’s comma,” or apostrophe) from “Santabarbaratown.”

They also both coo “c’mon son” to Selene’s womb.

Selene’s proposal to Gus includes his negotiation that he and Shawn have adjacent homes with connecting pools, a callback to Shawn and Gus talking about their dream setup in “The Break-Up”; as well as Pluto! She asks, “Will you make me the happiest woman on this planet, on Eres, and Pluto?”

Shawn tells Juliet that “you’re my person,” the iconic Grey’s Anatomy line (though one would argue that Gus more accurately is his person).

When Lassiter stands (shut up, you’re crying) to meet Marlowe (Kristy Swanson), they place their palms together—like they did when he would visit her in jail, like they did at their wedding. My heart.

Join us on the Easter egg hunt—let us know what references we missed!

The post Psych 2: Lassie Come Home Easter Egg and Reference Guide appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2CDgzPr

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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melonoverlord · 6 years

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And also all of them forrrr... Talia

1. What is one word to shut them up?

“Doll”

2. What is the thing they feel the most guilty about?

Being the only survivor of the Belmonte caravan

3. What is the worst pain they’ve ever experienced?

Mentally when she was in “The Dove Room” for that week of Hell, and physically the time she was fighting a guard in Ebrae and he stabbed his knife into her shoulder blade.

4. Describe their worst nightmare.

Being sent back to “The Dove Room” for the rest of her life

5. List 3 fears; one “surface level” fear, one “repressed” fear, and one “deep dark” fear.

Birds, Being found out as that Talia Belmonte, that she’s the reason that her entire community is dead

6. What is something that never fails to make them feel sick?

Ironically, any gore other than blood and when she’s dirty

7. What feature (physical or otherwise) do they hate most about themselves?

Her last name

8. Do they have anything that triggers them?

Birds (doves in particular), men raising their voices, fire

9. What is their greatest physical weakness?

She’s not physically strong and could easily be beaten in a physical fight

10. What is their greatest mental weakness?

When people raise their voice too loud or she gets too stressed, she will shut down and won’t talk for days.

11. Do they have any vices?

Drinking and copious amounts of sex

12. Have they ever done something illegal? What was it?

She’s a pirate. Everything she’s done is illegal

13. Which of the 7 Deadly Sins best describes them?

Greed

14. Are they prone to outbursts (of violence, extreme emotion… exc… )?

No, when she has extreme emotions she shuts down

15. Who do they hate the most?

Herself

16. Is there anyone who makes them feel inferior?

Her mother

17. What sound always gives them a headache?

Ringing bells and children crying

18. Is there a certain flavor that disgusts them?

Strawberries

19. Do they consider themselves ugly?

20. Do they consider themselves unloveable?

No, but she considers love to be something other than it actually is

21. What is something that causes them great anxiety?

Being around other nobles

22. Do they have any mental illnesses?

PTSD and anxiety

23. Have they ever been assaulted/abused/raped?

Yes

24. Do they fear the possibility of being assaulted/abused/raped?

Yes

25. Have they ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust?

Yes

26. Have they ever been seriously injured?

Yes

27. How many times have they been in the hospital?

She wasn’t allowed to go to a real hospital, but private doctors came to her home many times

28. Is there a certain type of person that disgusts them?

Noblemen

29. Does what they cannot see scare them?

Yes

30. Have they ever been bullied?

Yes

31. Do they have self-confidence or self-image issues?

Both yes

32. Do they have a bad relationship with their parents?

Absolutely, but she thinks its her fault

33. Have they ever been in a relationship that didn’t work out so well?

Yes

34. Have they ever self harmed?

35. If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?

They’d rather grow up on the streets than have grown up a noble

36. Are they in control of their emotions, or are their emotions in control of them?

She always has to be in control of her emotions, both as a child and now as a captain

37. Have they ever had their freedom taken away?

Since birth

38. Have they ever been imprisoned?

In a sense

39. Have they ever been accused of something they didn’t do?

Yes. As recent as walking into a manor full of dead people

40. Do they often blame themselves for other people’s problems?

41. Do they get sick often?

She got sick all the time as a child due to the types of environments she was exposed to

42. Are they comfortable with where they are in life?

A lot more than she did in the past

43. Do they wish that they could change their pasts?

Yes

44. What’s one thing they wish they could do more often, but can’t?

Run and climb trees

45. What is the emotion they most commonly experience?

Anger

46. Have they ever contemplated suicide?

Yes

47. Have they ever gone so far as to attempt suicide?

48. Is there anyone that they would willingly kill?

Absolutely

49. If [name] was put into ______ situation, they’d rather die than live to see it through.

Being put back with her captor, even if she doesn’t realize it. But subconsciously she knows that she could never go through it again.

50. Create your own!

Talia was 19 when she got her first friend but she doesn’t even know that she should consider then a friend.

#my characters #eyes of eutaria #Talia Belmonte

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