#would be easier if our mother was talking to us but alas

[daemoninfluff]

my brother and me, looking at a map of our city marking all 19 cemeteries, trying to figure out which one's the one our father is buried at cause we have to get the headstone cause his rental contract has expired like

#would be easier if our mother was talking to us but alas #who knew after being dead for some 20 years they would just go bye bye but that's the chr*stian church to y'all #on the other hand my great grandfather has been buried at the same cemetery since 1973 so maybe it's just that one #orrr it's cause he's buried in a small town and maybe his last name still weights something to the people there #I mean nearly the whole town came to his funeral - tho still it has been 50 years that can't be it right right right #maybe I should ask me grandmother but I haven't talked to her since our grandfather died like 5 years ago or smth lol I don't even know #they never cared for him anyway so #who wants to visit 19 cemeteries with me to find the right one could be a fun date idea #actually does anyone know what happens to the ashes? like do they just throw his remains in the trash or #I have so many thoughts about this I actually think we need to get it this month but I'm not sure cause NO ONE TOLD ME #until my brother was like 'oh yea we actually needa go get the headstone if we don't want them to throw it away' #like guys this was money #fluff whining again

[s-milesart]

Ashes to ashes. Memories, to dust. | Heartsink.

An old etching, charred but cherished.

Sanctified memories of easier days - of decidedly droll monastic toil and blessed children who deserved smothering love.

She would bear the worlds cruelty ten-fold to return to those days - but alas, days like those are gone.

Not forgotten.

--xXx--

"It is days like these, when my mind starts to wander. The quiet days, Agnes. Where no raiders threaten the poor souls of the fields, or where unholy abominations shake the land to it's core."

My mind yet wanders -- to days of quiet. Where most of my worries were whether or not I should hold myself more to the teachings of Her good book, or what should be made for dinner that night.

Did we get another shipment of carrots?

Ach, did the children have enough to eat that day? Especially with little Mary -- her sensitivity to the textures of what she eats vexes her so. She just cannot stand any fresh fruits we receive. She likes her things... Mushy. Makes quite a mess!

A donation that day? Oh! A noble from the Upper Blocks was here to drop off some sweets. I know that wonderful smell... Yes! Apple and Blackberry Jam Twists! The kids will love these so. I just hope She, Above doesn't mind if I sneak one or two...

More prayers today. Mother Superior believes we need as many blessings as we can get these days. I always pray for the children.

Andrea's eyesight grows poorer every day, and I fear we not have enough to get her a pair of glasses. And little Marcel, his education grows by leaps and bounds -- but we must find a scholar willing to take on an apprentice! A sharp mind like his needs a whetstone, after all.

The twins got into another fight today. Hellions, the both of them. I understand they both cannot ride the swing at once, but to have such a scuffle over it? I will talk to both of them tomorrow, when they've both cooled off. I might even surprise them with a slice or two of pie. But...

Something is... Wrong. I don't know, but even the children are starting to notice it. The well-water is starting to turn. I haven't heard the songs of the birds in the mornings. The Watch is telling citizens to avoid blocks in-case of... disappearances. Vivienne is even telling the kids to stay off the streets. Troublemaker she is, she's even cutting her courier services short to help around The Orphanage.

Even my dreams are starting to turn.

I hear it. Below us. An abhorrent thudding that keeps beat with itself. A siren call of evil. The pumping of blood to something that should not live. A cacophony of vile beasts, assembling themselves to make us all suffer. To make us all bleed.

And a vision, clear as day. The city, cracked open, rivers of blood pouring into its caved in ribs.

Screaming, endless screaming. A choir of suffering that never seems to quiet.

A sinkhole in our center, a pit of absolute hell spewing ash into the air. The sun, blotted out, day choked dark to signal the end.

An earthshattering beating, every pulse sinking more and more of the city into it's cavernous maw. And deep below... In the true center beats...

A Heart.

Goddess above, what is going o--

A cry. Looks like little Lucy is awake again. In the here and now. She's growing up awful fast. I keep her in my room, just in case. I glance at the photo on my dresser. A window into a past I still yearn for. But, alas.

I cannot have it. But Goddess above, I will fight for something like it. For the children.

#heartsink #oc #bunny #Sister Lucille #rabbit #bun #furry #nun

[pagesfromthevoid]

You are right! High with Eloise will be so funny and Benedict trying to be the responsible adult 😂

Whatever the Poets Say | b.b. | 11

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Drug use lol

Author’s Note: A bit short but enjoy (ノ‥)ノ

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

Even the barest of touches lights my heart into an inferno that I cannot extinguish. Love and grief are an odd couple, of which I cannot escape. If I could, life would be that much easier. But alas, life is not easy and grief does not simply disappear. It can be healed, and it can be wrapped up tight to help keep the pain from seeping through. But the only thing that can keep grief at bay is the love one shares with another.

Whatever the Poets Say, by an Anonymous Young Woman

“Oh hell.”

“Benedict!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together with an excitable giggle. Eloise waved lazily from her spot on the couch, smiling at her brother.

Benedict looked between the two young women and the tea cups on the table, quickly putting two and two together. Lord Everly appeared behind Benedict, peering over his shoulder. The older gentleman stifled a laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh dear,” Lord Everly chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Father, you came as well,” she giggled again, sitting up a bit straighter –or attempting to, at least. “We were just about to have a tea party –isn’t that right, Eloise?”

“Oh very right,” Eloise confirmed, pushing herself upright as well. “Would you care to join us?”

Benedict looked to Lord Everly, who didn’t seem phased by how intoxicated either woman was. Truth to be told, Lord Everly seemed almost delighted at the sight, like it was the funniest thing he’d seen in ages. 

“I would love to join you,” Lord Everly started, but he gave them both an apologetic bow. “But I do believe I need to find Lady Bridgerton before she catches you two like this. Benedict will join you, though.”

“No, sir, I really –”

“Nonsense, someone needs to ensure these lovely dears are taken care of.”

Lord Everly patted Benedict on the back before making his exit, leaving Benedict in the sitting room with Eloise and her. He covered his face with his hand, watching as she pulled out her notebook and flipped frantically through the pages. 

“You cannot possibly be writing gossip now!” Eloise exclaimed, snagging the book from her hands.

“Gossip?” She asked curiously, peering over at Eloise. “I do not write gossip, Ellie. I write romance.”

Benedict frowned now as he hurriedly moved to take the book from Eloise, trying to prevent her from reading anything too…personal about his fiancee and his activities. She wrote about him; he knew that very well. Benedict certainly didn’t need his baby sister reading anything about his personal life. 

“Nonsense,” Eloise huffed, laying back on the couch and holding the book over her head. She dodged Benedict as he tried to take it from her. “You are always writing. I think you must be Lady Whistledown.”

“If anyone is talking nonsense, it’s you,” Benedict insisted, taking the book from his sister finally. He held it tight behind his back, refusing to let either of them have it back. “You two need to get upstairs before mother returns with everyone else.” 

“Benedict, you cannot be in here alone with Miss Everly,” Eloise insisted, sitting up again. She swayed a little bit.

“This is certainly not the worst thing we have done alone,” she countered, running her hands over her skirts with a hum. “Have you ever actually felt the silk of our skirts, Ellie? It’s so…it’s so soft.”

Eloise didn’t even comment on what she was implying, instead more focused on touching her own skirt with an excited gasp. “It is!”

“Benedict, come feel this –”

“Absolutely not,” he insisted, taking her hands gently to pull her up. “Please, you two. Let’s go upstairs. We can talk about silk and tea parties and gossip –let’s just go upstairs to do so.”

Both women hummed in response as Benedict helped her up from the couch. Eloise pushed his hands away as he offered to help her, standing on her own. She swayed on her feet, clutching her brother’s arm to keep steady. Getting upstairs would be an absolute nightmare, he decided, as he guided his fiancée through the doors. He was lucky that no one else was home yet –God bless Lord Everly, honestly. 

As Benedict guided both up the stairs –agonizingly slow –he kept a close eye on them. What he didn’t need was either of them falling down the stairs; as if that would be easy to explain. Or safe. She was clinging to his right arm as Eloise hung off his left, and he thanked God when they reached the top. Eloise released him to march to her bedroom, though she stopped to twirl once on her toes and explain how delightful it was that her dress twirled with her. His fiancée released his arm next, following suit in excitement as she noticed the same thing.

“You and I have never danced, you know,” she suddenly pointed out, hands on her hips as she faced him. “You asked me to save you a dance the very first time we met and then we never did. I waited all night and saved my last dance for you.”

Benedict raised a brow as he ushered her backwards towards Eloise’s room. But she stood firm, looking up at him.

“I had to give up my last dance to Anthony,” she explained, but then her expression turned thoughtful. “We did not dance, but you did listen to me that night. Do you know how wonderful it was, to have someone like you simply listen to someone like me?”

He smiled softly down at her, reaching up to push a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I do, actually. You listened to me as well, you know.”

“We still didn’t dance, though,” she reminded him, poking the tip of his nose gently. 

Benedict chuckled, shaking his head. “I will happily dance with you every day for the rest of our lives –but you need to get some rest with Eloise first.”

“I do not want to rest with Ellie. I want to rest with you,” she pouted, reaching up to rest her hands on his chest. 

Benedict took a deep breath, ignoring the way her touch burned through his shirt. “If we were at your home, perhaps. But we are here, in my home, and we will certainly be caught here.”

“Oh the tragedy,” she sighed dramatically, resting the back of her hand against her forehead. “Whatever shall we do if we must marry tomorrow instead of in three weeks?”

“You, my love, are a menace to society,” Benedict teased, pushing her back into Eloise’s room. “Get some rest; we can talk about what happened today later.”

She stared up at him, her eyes wide as she considered his proposal. Then she nodded slowly, sighing heavily. “I wish I did not feel so bad about marrying you, Benedict.  I love you too much to feel so guilty.”

As he opened his mouth to ask her what she meant, she yawned and shut the door behind her, bidding him good evening. Benedict stared at the door, brow furrowed as he tried to understand what she meant about feeling bad about marrying him. He thought that’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? To marry him? To love him? Why would she feel bad about that?

                                            *****

What a truly terrible idea that tea was, she decided.

She woke up in a pile of pillows and blankets, in a bedroom that certainly was not hers. Eloise was snoring from the bed, still dressed in her clothes from earlier. She was also still in her gown and slippers, though she was certain her hair was a mess and her skirts wrinkled as she sat up. Her head ached, as if she had run head first into a wall, and her back hurt from laying on the floor for God knows how long.

“Eloise,” she whisper-yelled, trying to wake her future sister-in-law. Eloise did not stir so she threw a pillow at her on the bed. “Eloise, wake up!”

Eloise shot up, taken aback by the sudden attack of pillows. She groaned now, holding her head in her hand, as she looked at the floor. “Oh dear God, what did we do?”

“Made fools of ourselves, I’m certain,” she responded, slowly pushing herself up off the floor. “You put far too much of that powder into our tea, I think.”

“I think so too,” Eloise agreed, rubbing her face with her hands gently. “What time is it?” 

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, looking in the mirror to try to fix her hair. “It’s almost dark, so I assume it must be dusk at the very least.”

Eloise peered out the window from her bed, squinting through tired eyes. “I wonder what everyone thinks happened to us.”

She thought back to the last few hours prior to falling asleep, trying to recall what exactly had happened. She remembered her father and Benedict showing up, and she recalled Benedict trying to get them upstairs. But everything else seemed a bit hazy and confusing right up until she had fallen asleep. Benedict would be sure to tease them both, she was sure of it.

“I suppose we have to go find out, don’t we?” She asked, determining that this was the best her hair was going to look after sleeping on the floor.

“Mother will be thrilled, I’m sure.”

“Truthfully, I think my father will find it amusing.”

“Of course he will,” Eloise laughed, standing from her bed now to fix her own hair. “He finds amusement in everything he experiences.”

“One could learn a thing or two from that, you know,” she pointed out, checking over herself to make sure she was presentable. 

“One could learn a thing or two from what we just experienced as well.”

“This is also true.”

———

Taglist: @queensgirl718 @drowninginaseaofbooks

#benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #Benedict Bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton x f!reader #Bridgerton

[the-mist-striders]

Episode 4: The World's Most Sort-of Competent Pallbearers

Note: So dm did a little rewinding, not a retcon because it didn't break anything we did, but he did allow a character moment between the siblings Lucerian and Fauna since they were pretending to not know Amalia and Kai since Amalia was screaming about wanting to kill the entire family inside as Kai was trying to drag her out as the father is threatening Amahlia with a broom

Fauna is fucking pissed that Lucerian tried to sacrifice himself. Lucerian defends his actions, saying he wanted to be sure Fauna could make it out of the murder house, and he knew he could trust the rest if the party to sacrifice themselves

So Lucerian promises to never do that again.

He did however also ask her why she bonded with the crazy lady and not the more tame blind lady

Fauna had no idea Amalia was a crazy bitch, thought she only threatened to kill the kids, beat the shit out of empty suits of armor, and murdered the taxidermy wolves because the house was a weird situation

#ah ignorance is bliss

Fauna says “I just hope we won't have to betray them, like with our last party” 

It's a Shame Kai an/or Amalia were distracted and didn't hear that

#cant meta-game

Fast forwarding through the already established scenes in the general goods store and to where we left off- heading to the inn

The town looks desolate

Some of the homes look ransacked

Some look boarded up

In the window of a boarded up home we spot someone moving around inside 

Normal shit

The town is colorless and dreary. Like twilight with its blue filter except the filter is piss yellow

An old woman in the distance is pushing a cart, knocks on a door, the family cautiously answers.

The old lady sells pies apparently

And the family is addicted to the stuff

So much so that they're in debt to the old woman

They make up for it by lending their first born (a 6 year old) to the old lady to do housework

Normal stuff

Kai doesn't trust anyone. Is convinced the pies are spiked

Amahlia theorizes that she's using children in her pies

Fauna just wants a pie

Kai used detect poison, she asked specific questions and was reading her internal reactions in order to sus out why the fuck a family would be this addicted to pies

It turns to a conversation about the town and Count Strahd, whose castle is visible from there in the mountains

She implies that every night something happens. Refuses to elaborate. Says it's beyond description

#wow thanks

Pie lady talks about how Strahd is a cruel demon of a ruler

Fauna buys an apple pie

Amahlia hands the lady her tarot card and asks what's up with the card

Old lady is reading the message on the card

Not realizing that Amahlia is fucking running away

Old lady is innocently confused as to why that happens. Asks Kai to bring it back to her. Kai declines, says it tends to find its own way back, thus wrapping up this interaction

In the distance there's a wailing. The dog (Lancelot Is reacting. Struggling against Fauna's carrier. Fauna is reluctant to bring the puppy home but alas Kai convinces her it's the right thing to do

His owner is loudly wailing "GERTRUDA" In her home. Answering the door when Kai knocks, Fauna hands Lancelot over. The woman requests we find her daughter Gertruda. Gives no clues except for a very shitty doll with botched bodily proportions and an awkward smug look drawn on its face.

For some reason Kai is the one the mother requests this from and ends up putting the doll in her satchel

(Why are characters who are supposed to be quiet always end up doing more of the talking?

then again nobody in the party has the charisma skill.

Totally won't end up biting us in the ass at some point)

After that's done Fauna does decide to try discussing Amahlias behavior

She says "have you ever heard the phrase 'it's easier to attract ants to honey than to vinegar"

Amahlia blinks "what the fuck is Honey"

Turns out Amahlia lives on a diet of salted pork

Kai chimes in to help convince Amahlia to be less crazy

We reach a compromise to where we with a password of sorts can permit Amahlia to go apeshit. Using "honey" for "pls keep it together " and vinegar  (or "smash") for when Amahlia should be intimidating and violent

Causing Amahlia to start speaking in an extremely fake and exaggerated chipper voice with a smile that doesn't reach the eyes. As a side note I would like to add that every-time she talks this way Amahlia rolls for intimidation because of how terrifying it is.

They head to the inn and this creeps out the bartender as we discuss rooms + a thing to bathe in since they all smell like sewage water

#squad goals

The bartender/ innkeep is like a DMV worker. His soul is gone, his eyebags dark with a voice void of cheer. He's always "cleaning" a glass using a rag that's actually not very clean

Takes some persuasion to get a room, since this town fukin hates outsiders

In the corner there are some well dressed folks making fun of a guy who looks like Heath Ledger in a language none of the party speaks

One of them- a guy who resembled that one guy who got kicked out of Saudi Arabia (?) For being too handsome approaches Kai, nearly killing her instantly

(This guy)

Kai internally again (bass boosted)

She has a weakness for handsome rogues

He has his hand on her shoulder and asks her to come talk with him and his Troupe of strangely not dreary lads

Alexa play wake me up inside.

Amahlia saves Kais ass (literally) by in a fucking fake cheery voice saying "oh she's not social :)))"

Guy says "that's too bad" winks at Kai and fucks right off

Pictured: Kai internally

Very weakly says "thank you"

the girls are bonding guis

He tries again when Kai is away from the group

She pulls out 2 cloths, shoves one in her mouth balled up, and wraps the other around her mouth and fucking book's it for her room. Yes this is a very normal reaction, Kai is fine guys.

Meanwhile heath ledger asks Lucerian to take the group to his family manor later

Dm asks me "Kai doing anything before bed" with a shit eating grin

I with a straight face respond "oh the usual"

Nobody at the table questions it.

Btw Kai called dibs on the single room

That night everyone else ate at the bar. Fauna is the only one that trusts the pies. Kai lives on a diet inspired by Kellogg himself, eating a raw and unseasoned potato because spices and sweets are too horny

Fauna mentions that they keep having her pay for shit

Amahlia reaches Into her pocket to pay her back

Pulls out tarot card

Amahlia just drops it to the floor and goes back into her pouch

Pays her back (yay)

She wakes up with her blind fold off

Feels her face and in horror realizes that her *situation* has gotten worse over night.

That these lands are effecting her condition and may be speeding it up

Because of this *condition* her original blindfold no longer fits on her head. She with a heavy heart gets out another blind fold that she carried around just in case this happened. It’s a tighter fit and covers the top half of her head, including the bridge of her nose.

Shaken, she leaves her room, Fauna notices the shape of her head is different.  Bizarrely flat around the eyes

Fauna asks if she can help in some way (not knowing what the fuck is even going on)

Kai is too shaken to speak. She just shakes her head

Fauna being a true bro knows she doesn't want to be touched, just sends good vibes that Kai can sense

She appreciatively nods her head

Coincidently my dice rolls started to suck, which we easily say is because she's shaken from the speeding up of her death

So as all of this is happening, the new character Imils player made to replace Imil walks into a bar

The well dressed people go as white as a sheet

"You're supposed to be dead"

They do the superstitious equivalent of making a cross on your chest

Well... cultural equivalent

Her name is Liliya. 

Liliya doesn't remember much of who she is

Turns out the well dressed bitches are "Vistani" (I hope I spelled it correctly) outsiders in Barovia (where we currently are)

Her Vistani pals are sus about their friend being alive

Liliya is a stranger to the party, but she feels like she recognizes them

Another odd thing about Liliya is the holy symbol she is wearing

Its Imil's holy symbol

Liliya notes that something about this group makes her feel.. familiar... but it reminds her of a place surrounded with water.

Kai feels sus, so she rummaged through Imil's gear (which he left with her before sacrificing himself on an alar) and pulls out his signet ring

Liliya looks at it, tenses up and shoves it away.

#hmmm

Kai bribes the bartender for further details on whatever the event at night is that everyone keeps referring to in vague ways.. Bartender mentions that they should be fine as long as they don't join the parade

Kai also plays detective and asks around for details on Gertruda and her disappearance. Doesn't really learn anything new, just that people think she ran away into the mist and that they're sure Strahd got to her and she's as good as dead

Also Getruda is like. 17.

Kool

The people bullying Heath Ledger invite us to go with them to meet a woman named Madam Ava. They agree to do it tomorrow after they visit heath ledgers manor to see what he wants

Manor looks like shit

No windows

Blood splatter

Scratches all over the exterior walls

#ideal summer home

Cautiously heath ledger let's us into his totally legit house

Walls are also covered in holy symbols

#interesting

Also there's a dead body in a casket

Its starting to rot

Very normal

Liliya originally doesn't follow us, she doesn't know us and doesn't trust us. But does change her mind when given a strong feeling that we were going to die unless she came to help

me hearing the Dm say this as a player:

So the gist of Heath Ledger's deal;

He and his sister were once a powerful family who fell from grace, their father is dead and they wish to bury him in the family crypt.. a Block away

They need help because no matter what time of day or night people harass them. So they need the help if some fighters to keep away danger

Oh and Heath Ledger's sister was visited by Strahd one night (has a visible vampire bite too) and suspiciously the minions of Strahd who keep assaulting the house don't attack her

Normal stuff nothing to see here

We agree to help then after tugging on our heart strings

4 of us are carrying the casket

Kai and Fauna are watching for attackers

Because uh

apparently at night the streets are full of wolves and angry bats

Fauna at the back keeps the wolves at bay

Bats are attacking us from above

A bat rips Kai's face covering off, but everyone is too preoccupied to notice yet

Suddenly I get higher rolls again. Ig Kai just has nothing to lose at this point

Kai does also keep wolves at bay

The church is a few steps away. The pallbearers are exhausted

A priest is dragging something long and oddly shaped into the church. We're close behind and make it inside

The party sees what she was covering up this whole time

A vanta black void that seems to go on forever where her eyes and upper bridge of the nose should be, the edges revealing bits of bone and tissue

Everyone ( except heath ledger and his sister who aren't looking) did not know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't that.

Fauna just

Gives her a shirt she can wrap her head with

An act of compassion- but I did for a sec interpret it as "o_o... cover that back up"

The crew is yelling for the priest to grant the dead guy his last rights

He says he’s too busy and won’t tell us why

After Liliya threatens to do the rites instead he finally agrees to help

The party then hears a loud "FATHER I’M HUNGRY"

I have a feeling the voice isn't asking for the priest to go get Mcdonalds

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[Episode Directory]

#Episode 4 #Curse Of Strahd #Episodes #DND

[umsoheytove]

I ugh……self-doubt buildititilitiiing….

Ok so…i felt you so close or linked to you….of course with 8 min from corona to earth light wouldnt take too long to go the distance of the diameter of earth if it were a throughandthrough….still….i feel like you are close and the song choices and the feelings i gathered at the bar I wonder if they were actually you and not some random thotty….

I understand that this is a mating dance of the A^Au! And I do so love the fun of it all…i hope I didnt miss too much on the hunt and i hope i didnt just pick up randomness and assume its fake ass significance too too much…no u kno i felt you verily last night….. too and today….omg…

So as scary as it is for me to ask…here is the thing….I may come of as some ultra confident guy but I obviously am not…..when it comes to Intellect like yours and….omg just fucking take me you are so god damned warm…..im gonna shower too now….

But so yeah…I love this, but i cannot stand people peopling…and even if we would flame out before one turn of the cosmological phenomenological starchart before it sharts itself just once…or even if you think i am too….something….i still want to try and meet….

My heart yearns for true love at least once….

Whatever the Fates may bring to us….I am most assuredly ready to run the other way…..with you….heaving you over my shoulder from certain death if necessary….for a chance to say hi….

I know not….what else I can say to convince you but my mind is just tired with anticipation and questioning and wondering if this is real or some hallucinatory fever dream scenario (ala Dallas, Lost…….’How I met ur mother with a shout out it was good but doesnt fit but hit my mind nonetheless)

I would gladly offer you my ceaseless effort in attempting to fulfill my original vows…..

I promise to earnestly and vigorously ‘make as each day with you better than the last’….

New below

Along this line…..I hope to bring a lot of Light, Love, and Livery to the end of your days….as best I can…knowing how we are bound to fuck up InDefinitively from ‘time-to-time’….and ‘blow our minds while we are blowing our brains (kinda sounds redundant written out…but….also symmetrical so….of course I love it even more now…..)….

If I hear the seaguls laughing at my jokes, is that a sign you would get them or they are too obvious??? These are the stupefying questions namastache you as they are absolutely critical to my understanding FULLY the universe….but more so….To Truly Know You as a Person, and a friend, and whatever Fantasies May Come….but obviously for the S’& G’s…..

So much a do about wasting our precious moments apart that could be together….

I cannot bear solving more unending riddles to meet you….every time I think I’m on the right track my self-doubt kicks in and I worry….

If you would be so kind as to do me one favor….I am actually super shy….its so much easier to talk here first than attempt to figure out what to do next….i think that perhaps you and the Aurora have become so used to being linked and omnipresent (as fuck) and a subtle force existing in the shadows that perhaps you are all scared of an actual first contact…..i cannot fathom this as I have no frame of reference….it brings to mind several key milestones of my own life however….well…basically ‘firsts’ in terms of meeting new people or groups of people

Getting escorted to the school bus as a kindergartener and/or stepping into pre-school for the first time by Mom…. well basically they are all just school…ele, middle, high, first ever job, drivers ed….moving into college…..grad school……starting a first ‘big boy britches’ career-type job….each year bringing with it new excitement and new trepidations at the year ahead….

Suffice it to say…..I have a cursory understanding of what must be a constant deluge of information you must process….I would be happy to help understand how you obtain, filter, sort, retrieve, and landscape your soul…..im sure you have fun toys You (AuSi….new shortened nicname) can all gang probe my brain as long as I understand the variables and potential consequences of such mind fuckery….

So….ok sorry…ugh overthinking as usual….i wish I were kewl and cute sounding like Ke$ha at the end….heheh….

um……so….

Dearest Tove, et al….

My newest love,

Ushered forth via a new found hate….

You helped reveal my foolish naïveté……

You helped disabuse me of the thought that,

Openness and honesty can be assumed in

most relationships….

Ruined by an ‘UnSpeakable’ Fact (Catalonian accent pronounced as Fäq’D)

Lies seem to form the bedrock of modern

‘uncivilization’…..

The Bravery and Determination of pure Will to Be and Be Seen…..

It is my honest wish that The Gods restore Your Full Rights and Privileges to join Them.

Not as a newcomer,

But as (an) Old Friend(s),

In Valhalla or Mt. Olympus…

Or wherever Their greatest power may lie,

But definitely…..to simply Be

ToGetHer with Them….

In, Among, and Between The Stars….

Because….

You Are….

As You Were….

As You Always Shall Be….

A Valiant Warrior….

Peerless….

So Resilient….

So Brave….

So Patient….

So Kind…..

So Hilarious…..

So Generous….

So Thoughtful….

Such a warmth I have not felt in ages.

May Your Heart(s),

May Your Soul(s), and

May Your Enduring and

Truly Endearing Spirit Be at Peace

Once again….

P.S. Dear new/old WonderKin…..friend…..thank you….if you are able I will be looking out for signs of your Good Works all over this Planet if I have the time, energy, and ability….I cant wait to meet more directly…..someday…..maybe not soon for me but….I’m sure time is a bit ‘liquid’ In-N-Out

All my love and respect….

-Aric

[messenger-of-stupidity]

IRL Rant

I just really need to put this somewhere.

Edit: I've decided to just put all my future rants here so I'm not a downer on people's dashboards whatever.

CW: Cursing, ranting, mentions of depression symptoms (nothing to heavy, but I do bring it up.)

Rant 2: social anxiety

Okay to start off, it’s not really important or needed as to why I’m taking the class. All that’s important is that I am.

The fucking thing is called Health Sciences. Which sounds cool, right? It’s “Health science is an interdisciplinary field that involves the application of science to health-related topics, such as medicine, nutrition, and environmental health. It involves applying scientific research to clinical practice, in effort to improve healthcare for patients and communities.” (Which I had to google to find out, but we’ll get to that.)

It’s a term long class, which is nice so I can fit other classes for my major in during this year and not have my brain scrambled with information. 

The problem with the class, is the prof. There’s not a lot of students in the class for whatever reason (maybe they know the the horrible tale of it.) so it’s a fairly small class. Which has lead the prof into thinking she needs to get to know us. Spoiler alert, she doesn’t. It’s not needed, especially since I’ll only be seeing her for a short period. But this has lead to a week long full of introductory things. And these stupid things are what I expect of middle school or some shit. She had us literally make a post-it note with 2 truths and 1 lie, but with our medical history. Because it’s “health sciences related”. It’s so stupid. But hey, if she wants to carry these home to figure out in her free time, be my guest. But my medical history is just that. Mine. Private. But it’s, guess what? A GRADED ACTIVITY! Which idek if she’s allowed to do that. I would talk to my advisor about it, but I’m not that confrontational.

And I know if there’s a problem and I don’t do anything to solve it, I only have myself to blame. But it’s a term long class. I thought if I can sit through it for a term I’ll be fine. I’ll get the required class for my major done and over with and then I can just move the fuck on.

And I’m still going to do that. 

But then there’s the latest assignment. She wants a presentation about who and what motivates us. It’s not health related. Not in the slightest. What the fuck is this shit? I don’t want to do it, but once again... ITS FUCKING GRADED! And considering it’s a short class, every assignment is going to matter. And the class is small, so she has a brilliant idea to have us present it to the class. The presentations have to be between 2-3 minutes long. If it’s not, our grade gets docked. I seriously don’t think she’s allowed to do this but alas once again my fear of confrontation stops me from being able to do anything about it.

I don’t know about the rest of the people in my class, but my depression kind of saps that motivation. Any given day, I have one singular motivation. But no, this presentation needs to be 3-5 slides long. She seriously expects me to have that many fucking motivations? Yeah right. 

But Mess, how does google play into this?

Great fucking question.

SHE HASNT EVEN EXPLAINED WHAT WE’LL BE DOING! Her syllabus is literally just her expectations of our fucking behavior and how to find where the assignments are. 

I’m so fucking fed up and I’m only a week into this class. I can’t even explain how angry I am. 

Rant #2:

I know my family is just trying to help me or whatever. I wanna preface that.

Background info- my stepfather runs rpg games (kinda like DND but more forgiving dice rolls) at a local gaming store for people. My mother sometimes comes along and plays a game on her phone or something just for that presence of quality time. Same energy as reading different books to yourself in the same room.

I have this huge problem with social anxiety irl. It leaks into online life sometimes but it's not as apparent and it's easier to hide the way my hands shake when typing out a comment on a post or something.

Not so easy to hide that shit when I'm standing in front of someone. I'm not saying how old I am specifically since I'm hella paranoid about that kinda thing, but I'm old enough to make my own decisions and all that jazz. But when it comes to social interactions (ordering food, asking where the bathroom is, ect) I struggle. A lot. If you know Komi can't communicate, I'm like that, just a little less extreme. So my parents will help me out if I'm with them sometimes.

But then there are those times where they make my life 10x more difficult. I can talk to them in front of people, granted my voice shakes like a leaf and my whole body is trembling. This was one of those nights.

I was having a banter with my stepfather while I got some research to shadow someone in a few weeks, and I asked him a pointed question. (He's really into 3D printing) I asked how many printers he owned now. The people who were taking part in the game were also throwing comments in, but my socially anxious ass was kinda ignoring them. It was fine tho since my stepfather and mother were acknowledging it though. And he acted like he did when I was younger.

This man really said "if you want the answer you need to go introduce yourself to them." It was only two people, but the way my chest tightened with immediate panic and dread. But I acted my age and went over, staring at my shaking hands and introduced myself. I was this 👌 close to crying. I can't make eye contact with more than three people without having a panic attack. It's bad.

But I did it. When more people arrived, I just ignored them, listened to music, and drew on a scrap piece of paper I found in my bag to calm down. And then I turned back around and now there are 6 people. Whatever. I ask my stepfather is I can show him a disturbing meme I found and if he'll humor my antics and laugh at it. My voice sounded like I was about to cry because I'm talking in a public place. And he did it again. Except now it was; "I will if you introduce yourself to each individual person" and he's smiling as he's saying this.

He's not a bad person. He's actually really nice and one of the best father figures I could ask for.

And I was struggling to not just break down then and there. I got halfway through before just giving up and acting like a child to hide under one of the tables in the game store. My mom managed to help me calm down, but now I feel like a total fool. So I just ask if I can go to her car since she picked me up and drove me here. (Our apartment complex gives us one parking space per apartment and my roommate had the car.) She lets me.

Turns out when I'm an embarrassed anxious mess, I forget how cars work. So I accidentally ran the battery down. We got it jump started luckily but it definitely sucks.

I don't think my stepfather actually realizes the extent to what my anxiety makes me feel. I feel unsafe in my surroundings and my own fucking skin. Tonight just sucks.

Also in case anyone's wondering, yes I am seeing a therapist for this and yes it does make my life difficult.

#irl rant #fuck you mrs williams #social anxiety

[bubbleteaimagines]

The Babysitter

Kuroo Tetsuro Oneshot

NSFW CONTENT

Summary || After months of sexual tension, Kuroo can’t resist fucking his pretty little babysitter on the couch

Pairings || Kuroo Tetsuro x Babysitter!Reader

Warnings || Smut, fingering, blowjobs, age gap (reader is 20) light praise, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, daddy kink

Authors Note || In celebration of 3k, here is some Dilf!Kuroo that we all need in our lives

It was inevitable, you supposed. The tension between you two was simply too thick, and it had been for months— ever since you had started working for him.

Kuroo was a man that was very busy, and with a two year old daughter and a mother that was absent, it was no surprise that he needed some extra help.

That’s where you came in- fresh faced and right out of college, majoring in (Y/M/N) and needing a job for the summer.

A friend of a friend had been the one to hook you up, Kuroo taking a liking to you almost instantly.

He had to admit, it was your pretty face and bright smile that draw him in at first, but truly, you were most qualified candidate for the job.

Like a ray of sunshine, a breath of fresh air if he’d ever seen one.

Not to mention how his daughter absolutely loved playing with you from the moment she met you, so in Kuroo’s mind it was a no brainer.

That’s how it started— but your story with the older man would end much, much different.

With lingering glances here and there, subtle touches and late nights where you’d both just sit down and talk, it was no surprise to either of you that ended up here— face down on his couch and completely at his mercy.

Truthfully, it wasn’t supposed to end this way. You were only supposed to have a few drinks and then head home for the night, but somehow before Kuroo could even open the wine, the tension between the two of you had reach the boiling point.

Everything between you two had been spilled in an instant, and now you were a moaning mess as Kuroo’s soft lips attached themselves to your clit, biting and sucking softly while his long fingers worked magic on your cunt.

“You like that babygirl?” Nicknames, so many of them, and they sounded so sexy coming from his lips. You damn near came right then and there as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, nibbling a little while his assault on your pussy continued.

“Y-Yes,” You found yourself squeaking out a reply, too wrapped up in pleasure to respond with anything coherent. But alas, Kuroo wasn’t satisfied. He gave you pointed look as he fingers came to a still, a whine leaving your throat at the loss of contact.

“Kuroo!”

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s not my name. You know better,” He said disapprovingly. It only took you a few seconds for your brain to catch up, a spark of realization flowing through you before you uttered out the correct word.

“Daddy.”

“That’s it,” Kuroo gave you a huge smirk and in no time, continued on with brining you to your high. Admittedly, the man was skilled. Despite never having explored your body before, he knew exactly where to touch you, knew exactly the right spots to make you see stars. “Let me hear you baby- let see hear you cum for me.”

“F-Fuck, fuck!” A breathless moan left your lips as you threw your head back, pleasure taking over every sense. You could barely breathe, too focused on the orgasm that came crashing over you, knocking the air out of your lungs and rendering your brain useless.

You came, harder than you ever had before, all over Kuroo’s slender fingers. In fact, your little pussy made a mess all over his expensive couch but at the moment, Kuroo didn’t care.

His cock was growing harder by the minute as he watched you come undone under him, because of him.

He’s never seen anyone look so sexy, already looking fucked out even though he just started.

“You alright there babygirl?” He’s kind enough to ask, leaning down to stroke your cheeks. Wordlessly, you nod, but Kuroo can tell there’s something on your mind. Suddenly, you sit up, and there’s a hopeful look in yours as you crawl over towards him and pout.

“I wanna ride you, daddy,” You tell him, jutting out your lower lip and tugging on his belt. Fuck. How could Kuroo resist you when you looked at him like that? All needy for him, pussy throbbing at just the idea of him fucking you senseless.

“Fuck, you sure, baby?” He checks to make sure you’re serious before making his next move, and sure enough- you nod eagerly and tug at him again, a whine leaving your throat. He was moving too slow, being a gentleman, sure, but right now you wanted him to fuck you like a whore.

“Yes daddy, I’m absolutely sure,” You tell him confidently, and it doesn’t take much after that to get Kuroo to agree. Quickly, his hands replace yours at pulling at his belt, fumbling with the material and cursing himself for tying it too tight. Eventually though, he manages to get the damn thing off and throws it across the room, making a small clatter that neither of you pay attention to.

And suddenly, Kuroo’s sitting down on the couch and letting you do all the work of undressing him, chuckling at how eager you are. You grab at his clothes like your life depends on it— first his shirt, then his pants, and finally his boxers come off and Kuroo has the absolute pleasure of taking in your ‘O’ shaped mouth, jaw dropping at the size of his cock.

“D-Daddy, you’re so big,” You tell him, eyes wide. Way bigger than any of the college boys you’ve been with. Kuroo was hung and is was making your mouth water, desperate for a taste.

“Go on,” He softly encouraged you after seeing the look on your face, snaking his hands behind your head and gripping your hair. “Give it taste. Let me cum all over those pretty little lips babygirl.”

You’re all eager to fulfill his request, blinking innocently before leaning in and darting your tongue out. Kuroo groans at the action, back straining against the couch as you do it once more before finally giving him the real thing.

Your mouth is hot and tight wrapped around him, pure Heaven, Kuroo thinks, as you get to work and start sucking him like a pro.

Your head bobs up and down, taking him as much as you can and using your hands to stroke the parts you can’t reach. You open up your throat and take him deeper- so deep that you start gagging on his cock.

Kuroo moans at the vibrations and despite your teary eyes, he pulls your head further down and stuffs your mouth with his cock.

He moans again as he feels a pit in his stomach, his orgasm bubbling up the more you pleasured him.

You could feel it, too, by the way he was turning into putty under your touch and groaning every time you stroked him. Slowly, you look up to meet his eyes as you tease his tip with your tongue Kuroo suddenly lets go- sinful noises leaving his lips as thick, white ropes of his cum shoot out and down your throat.

Like the good girl you are, you swallow every last drop before finishing off with a ‘pop!’ Kuroo panting heavily as you sit back on your knees.

“Was I good, daddy?” You ask him, Kuroo frantically nods as he pulls you up, positioning you on his lap and just over his cock.

“The best, babygirl. You took me so well,” Kuroo praises you, stroking your hair before smiling. “You think you’re ready to take my cock now, pretty girl?” He asks, and you nod frantically.

“Yes, please Daddy. I want it so bad,” You tell him, gripping his shoulders, and that’s Kuroo needs to hear in order to spread your legs and lower you on his cock.

You moan as his tip begins to push past your tight walls, the breath leaving your lungs the more he fills you up. God, he’s so big, and he knows it too which is why he give you a little time to adjust to his size before slowly fucking into you.

“Fuck!” It’s so painful and delicious at the same time. The way you stretch around him, your little pussy desperately trying to take him. You throw your head back in pleasure when he bottoms out, hands coming up to steady you.

Your movements are slow at first, only rocking your hips and bouncing a little while you ease into a rhythm. However, you’re practically dripping around him and that makes it all the more easier to move, finally being to able warm up to his size.

The pace that you settle on leaves you both a moaning mess, trying to keep it down as to not disturb his daughter that’s sleeping upstairs. You have to bury yourself into the crook of Kuroo’s neck in order to mask your moans, walls clenching around his cock.

He’s so deep that it has you crying out every few seconds, wrapping your body around him to keep yourself ground. Kuroo doesn’t mind though, in fact he pulls you into a deep kiss as you continue to bounce around him, both of you moaning into the other’s mouth.

Somehow, your hands find his messy hair and you tug on it gently as you begin to feel another orgasm rising up. Kuroo can feel the way your walls are clenching around him, and decides to take the lead. Grabbing your hips, he steadies you before thrusting up and matching your pace, pounding into you while you try to hold on for dear life.

It’s no use though, pleasure clouds over you in an instant, your vision going in and out as you moan and whine against his lips. Eventually though, you’re forced to pull away for air and take deep breath, your body shaking. You’re not sure how much longer you can last like this, and Kuroo knows.

He feels the way you’re squirming and whining against him, he loves the way you’re going absolutely feral for his cock. He wants nothing more than to make you cum around him, and so he snakes a hand down and rubs at your clit, teasing you just enough to send you over the edge.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” You cry out as your walls clamp down on him, creaming all over Kuroo’s cock. Your eyes roll into the back your head and you hear Kuroo groaning underneath you as you squeeze him like never before. Fuck, you’re so tight that he has no choice but to cum too, a loud moan leaving his lips as the milky white substance paints your walls.

He stuff you full of it, his good little girl milking him dry before he pulls out at watches run down your thighs.

You’re breathing heavily as your eyelids slowly open, coming down from your high to see Kuroo as equally as flustered. You both need a minute to calm down before you speak, slowly moving off of his lap and collapsing on the couch next to him.

“That was...” You don’t even have the words for it. You’ve never been fucked so good before, the man making you cum twice which had never happened with any of your other hook-ups. It seems that Kuroo was feeling the same, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he nodded.

“Yeah,” Kuroo agreed as he leaned back on the couch, sweat dripping down his forehead. Even in his fucked out state though, he still looks incredibly handsome. Black hair sticking to his face, brown eyes wide with blown pupils...man, he really was beautiful.

You found yourself smiling the more you admired him, and Kuroo quickly caught onto your stare.

“What? Is there something on my face?” He asked jokingly, shying away from your gaze. You grinned at the light blush that crossed his cheeks.

“No, no...I just...you’re really handsome, you know that?” You found yourself saying, taking Kuroo by surprise. His brows furrowed together at your words, but he quickly recovered, a sly smirk forming on his face.

“Took you long enough to notice, didn’t it?” He teased, lightly nudging you. You giggled at the action but shook your head.

“No, I’ve always noticed. But honestly I didn’t think-”

“You didn’t think I’d see you that way,” Kuroo finished knowingly. You nodded. “Huh. Well isn’t that something.”

“I just thought...well I dunno. I didn’t think you’d be interested in me. I mean after all I’m just the babysitter, kinda cliche isn’t it?” You said.

Kuroo chuckled. “Yeah...I suppose it is. But this...us...it’s not just a one time thing, is it?”

“Not if you don’t want it to be,” You tell him seriously, turning to face him. “I mean...I’m willing to you know...be more, if that’s what you want.”

“You mean like a date?” Kuroo asked, shocked.

“I’m free on Friday’s,” You tell him shyly. But despite this, Kuroo finds himself smiling and slowly nodding at your proposition.

“Friday yeah? I’d say we’re doing things a little backwards, but I’d love to take you out,” He can’t help the goofy grin that spread across his face, his heart pounding a little at the shy, relived grin on your own.

“Okay...Friday it is then,” You beam, reaching for your lost clothing that’s been scattered on the floor. It was getting late, and you really should be getting home before your roommate starts to worry, but you find yourself not wanting to leave at all. Kuroo had completely intoxicated you, making you want to do nothing but stay in his arms for the rest of the night. Unfortunately though, you both froze as a cry pierced through the house and Kuroo cursed as he frantically got up, and slipped his clothes on

“I’m sorry,” He sent you an apologetic look as Kiana began to cry, having woken up from her sleep. “I hate to leave things like this but...”

“It’s fine,” You shake your head, smiling a little as you gesture upstairs. “She needs you, I understand. I’ll get my time on Friday, yeah?”

“I can’t wait,” Kuroo tells you honestly, stopping momentarily to press a quick kiss on your lips before darting to the stairs. “I’ll call you later this week, okay?”

“I can’t wait,” You repeat his words, grinning at his toned figure before watching him disappear up the stairs. Even from where you were, you could hear Kuroo gently cooing and trying to soothe baby Kiana (named closely after her uncle) and it made your heart absolutely melt.

Shaking your head, you gathered the rest of your stuff and quickly slipped out of the door before you ended up in a puddle due to the cuteness. Already, you had your phone out and rang up your roommate -also your best friend- as you walked to your car, excitement bubbling through your veins.

“Hello?” They answered on the first ring.

You grinned. “Y/F/N, you will never believe what just happened to me...”

#kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #hq smut #hq x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #dilf!kuroo #3k event #spicytea.txt

[dismal-alien-darling]

The Gentle Heart of the Monster

Alcina Dimitrescu x female reader 

Bela, Cassandra and Daniela Dimitrescu 

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu and her daughers take care of a very pregnant reader. 

Warnings/tags: pregnancy, slight pregnancy kink, talk of impregnation, some sexiness, Lady D and her daughters are so caring, personal attention, caring for a pregnant woman, wholesomeness

A/n: For the sake of the fic Alcina carried and birthed her daughters so she has extensive knowledge on vampire babies/pregnancy. Let’s say they are fraternal triplets to make things simple. No father involved just witchy baby magic just let me have this please! 

y/n=your name

b/n=future baby’s name 

“Ugh! You’re close to overstaying your welcome b/n!” you groaned as b/n gave your ribs a firm kick. You were seven months pregnant with still two months to go and you were over being pregnant. As if being pregnant wasn’t hard enough, having a human-vampire spawn growing inside of you was an entirely different animal. Alcina had come to you with the request of you carrying her next child a few years after you had come to live in the castle. You started as a servant, then her personal hand maid, then her lover and now her brood mare. Lady Dimitrescu would have trusted no one else to carry her next child. You had initially refused her request. You deeply loved Alcina but not enough to have some Dimitrescu man rut you like a rabbit in heat. Lady Dimitrescu had laughed, given you a very sly look and then explained how the conception would happen. You had listened mouth agape closing it after Alcina was done explaining. When you were told SHE would be the one impregnating you your decision instantly changed to a resounding yes. The rest was history. 

“B/n hurting my dove again?” Alcina cooed kneeling down to take your shoes off. You grumbled in response. You had spent most of your pregnancy in one of the lounge rooms upstairs. It had the most comfortable chairs in the castle accompanied by equally comfortable foot rests. It had a fireplace and an adjacent balcony with a lovely outside dinette set. The doors leading to the balcony were made of glass so you got plenty of sunshine and had easy access to fresh air. Lady Dimitrescu had joined you every day as often as she could in your little sanctuary. She would often read in the chair across from you, rub your feet, neck, shoulders and back or you would curl up in her lap so you and her could caress your growing bump. Even the first two months your pregnancy had been challenging due to the circumstances. You had been around countless pregnant women in your old village and none of their pregnancies resembled yours, in some aspects yes but most aspects no. 

“B/n, you little shit, stop hurting your mother,”Alcina chastised the baby inside you. You chuckled. It always made you laugh when Alcina and the girls would talk and vaguely threaten b/n. Alcina sat on the floor, placing your shoes to the side and began rubbing your feet with her inhumanly strong hands. You sighed in relief. You settled further into the chair placing your hands on your stomach as b/n continued their assault on your insides. 

“Ow fuck!” you cried as b/n dragged their foot along the length of your stomach as if they were trying to rip your skin. You sat up doubling over. 

“My dear sweet y/n,” Alcina said placing a comforting hand on your head stroking your head. She glared at your stomach and as if the baby could see her terrifying glare b/n finally settled and stopped moving. You lifted your head and slumped back into the chair. Alcina gave you a delicate smile and continued to rub your sore feet. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up my lady,” you confessed tears forming in your eyes. 

“I know I know dear one. Growing a vampire baby is a daunting task. The girls were fist fighting even in the womb and look at them now! Ah, but alas my body was more than equipped to handle the pregnancy.” Alcina admitted. She had been in her same form she was now when she had been pregnant with her triplet girls. You however, were still a feeble human so just one vampire-human baby was more than enough for you. 

“I’m so weak and fragile I’m too-” you were cut off by Alcina placing a hand on your stomach. 

“My dove don’t start...” Lady Dimitrescu trailed off. You simply nodded in response wiping your eyes. You hated how emotional you had become. Alcina hated when you tore yourself apart especially now since you were carrying her fourth child. Alcina and you had discussed the mechanics of what a vampire pregnancy would entail making sure you were fully aware of what was ahead of you. You accepted the task because you would literally die for Alcina Dimitrescu. You had also discussed that if b/n were to almost kill you coming out she would turn you no questions asked. 

“Would you like me to rub your neck and back draga mea?” Alcina asked breaking your recollections. You nodded leaning forward as Alcina moved behind the chair. She could fully sit on the floor and still be tall enough to reach your neck and back comfortably. “You look so beautiful cel mic, I love how you look with your child growing inside you, our child. I must admit I’m going to miss you looking like this when b/n arrives,” Alcina fawned as you gave her hand a quick squeeze. “If you weren’t hurting sweet one I would take you right here and now,” Alcina purred into your ear. You twisted your neck meeting your lips with hers. During the first few months Alcina hadn’t held back making love to you in your early stages but now you were too sore to entertain the idea.

“You flatter me so Alcina,” you said licking her lips before deepening your kiss. Alcina reached down snaking her hand over your belly rubbing it softly. She moved her hand and ever so gently touched your swollen breasts. “Oh my dear lady,” you moaned into her lips. Lady Dimitrescu moved her hand down your stomach again and was just passing your hips when the doors to the lounge room flew open. You and Alcina jumped apart breaking your tender moment. 

“LUNCH TIME!” Bela announced pushing a tray full of delicious food and snacks. Her sisters followed in behind her pushing another tray of herbs and drinks. 

“Oh thank you my loves,” you thanked as Bela, Cassandra and Daniela presented the spread to you. Cassandra began mixing the herbs into a liquid which she poured into your tea. It was mix of supplements and pain relievers. You gladly gulped the tea as the almost instant effects settled into your aching body. 

“I have water, more tea, juice and milk,” Cassandra offered. 

“Thank you Cassandra just set it down for the moment,” you said. 

“So you have bread, that’s...feta and brie cheese, tomato slices, ham, salami, fresh basil, I picked it myself,”Bela boasted.

“But I have grapes, strawberries, almonds, roasted chicken and chocolate cake,” Daniela boasted back glaring at Bela. Since you had been pregnant the girls had been competing to see who could take care of you better. 

“You’re feeling better aren’t you y/n because of my herbal mixture right?” Cassandra asked pushing past her sisters. 

“I can rub your feet!” Bela offered kneeling down and getting right to work. 

“Well I can rub your neck and shoulders,” Daniela barked bulldozing her mother out of the way. Alcina looked sternly at her daughter in response. 

“You two didn’t ask her what she really wants! What would you like me to do for you and b/n y/n?” Cassandra asked sweetly. Alcina could see her daughters were overwhelming you. 

“GIRLS!” Alcina bellowed making all three girls freeze. “You’re going to make y/n go into early labor if you don’t quiet down.” Alcina continued in a low and deadly voice. You spoke up to diffuse the situation. 

“My lovely caring girls. All three-four of you,” you started looking up at Lady Dimitrescu, “are doing a wonderful job taking care of me and b/n. You all have made this pregnancy so much easier for me and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able repay the countless hours you’ve devoted to us.” You finished eyes welling up with tears for a different reason this time. 

“AWE Y/N!” The girls squealed in delight as they gathered around you hugging you lovingly but gently because they knew if they were the slightest bit too rough with you mother would have their necks. You gave them each a kiss on their heads eliciting even more squealing. You glanced over at Alcina who had a single tear running down her face. She quickly wiped it away and cleared her throat. 

“I can clearly see you and b/n are well taken care of here so I’m assuming I’m not needed,” Lady Dimitrescu teased. You rolled your eyes as the girls removed themselves from you. 

“Oh no my lady, you’re job is to be the most beautiful view for me,” you teased back as Alcina leaned down kissing you chastely. “Now my angels you can each take turns rubbing my feet and then when I’m finished eating you can take turns rubbing my neck, shoulders and back. Does that sound like a good plan to all of you?” You finished with a feigned tone of exasperation. 

“Yes!” The girls said in delight and just before they could bicker about who was to go first you exclaimed “Bela you can be first, then Cassandra and then Daniela and that was the order that popped up in my head,” you assured before any of their feelings could be hurt. Bela knelt down again as her sisters sat on the floor waiting their turn. Alcina walked over to the chair opposite you and picked up her book from where she had left it the other day. She took a seat admiring the beautiful picture of her pregnant lover and her three daughters so eager to attend her. 

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x female reader #lady dimitrescu x fem reader #fanfiction #resident evil 8 #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu

[jingweitrash]

The Winds (Venti x F!Reader)

A/N: SO I MADE VENTI AND Y/N AS JEAN'S GODPARENTS- Tbh it was a joke at first then it turned into this angsty fic? HAHA enjoy anyways! Requests are open.

Number of words: 1414

***

The winds all tell a story.

Teyvat’s winds are very alive: always noisy with chatter, joy, happiness. Its sounds are music to Venti’s ears. The tales they carry, he hears, he sings.

“Hm, the breeze tells me something.” Venti turns to Y/N, humming in confirmation. As the Anemo archon, he could communicate with the winds. They talk to him, delivering to him tales of sadness, courage, tragedies, joy.

“Well,” He strums his lyre, humming softly, “what do they tell you?”

The woman closes her eyes, listening to the breeze talking to her. Yes, humans could feel the winds, but few know how to interpret them. A cold breeze signals winter, a hot breeze signals summer. But, if others bothered to stop and listen, they would hear various messages, voices, actually talking to them.

Y/N took the time, and Venti is pleased with that.

“The birth of a Ragnvidr and Gunnhildr heir is nigh.” She says, opening her eyes. The bard hums a joyful tune. That is something to celebrate indeed. Children will always be celebrated. The birth of something so innocent and so pure must be protected. The winds seem to agree, nuzzling the both of them with warmth. Y/N chuckles, bringing her lyre out too.

“This calls for a song, no?” She smirks, strumming the strings of her lyre in sync with Venti. Venti gives off a chuckle as their legs dangle off the branch of the tree in Windrise. “A song of joy.”

“And welcome.” Venti adds. Y/N hums in agreement, strumming a tune, as Venti sings softly.

Mondstadt, o city of Mondstadt, in it innocence lives,

Citizens, we call to you, protect and cherish

This warmth, this gift of life,

For it shall never be in peril nor it shall perish.

The winds tell of promises.

“I sense a storm, years from now.”

Venti takes a sip of his Dandelion wine, eyeing his companion beside him. Y/N seems to be bothered by her own prediction, fidgeting with her own cup. “A storm you say? What would it convey?”

“Crisis.” Y/N shakes her head. “Chaos.” Venti raises a brow at that. “I guess it is time for you to reveal yourself to your people.”

“Ah, that’s where you are mistaken, good friend of mine.” Venti puts down his glass. “One must not take haste, hence our efforts would go to waste.”

Y/N smiles ruefully, but takes the word of the ever wise archon, her most trusted confidant. “Don’t you think it's just fear, ever wise Venti?” Venti chokes on the Dandelion wine he is drinking. “Revealing yourself is the easiest part.”

“Easy, you say?” He bites his lip, deep in thought. “I suppose you’re right.”

“So you admit it.” Y/N huffs out a laugh. “You’re afraid.”

“Maybe so. Archons can also be afraid, you know?” What else could have caused the Archon war? It all goes down to fear. They are not so different from humans after all. Maybe even weaker.

“But don’t you think you also have the capability to overcome that?” Y/N reasons. “Don’t you think you have the power, the courage even, to step up the plate?”

“I don’t-”

“Think of it this way.” Y/N takes a sip of her drink. “You have the courage to sing tales of old, tales of mysterious origins at the cathedral everyday. If you have the courage to sing, revealing yourself is the easier one.”

“...if you say so.” Venti hesitates. “If I don’t reveal myself-”

“I promise to Celestia I would actually kick your ass.” Y/N says seriously. Venti knows she isn’t joking about it, and nods.

“And I promise to see it done.” Y/N raises a brow skeptically. Venti raises his hands in mock surrender. “I promise to reveal myself to them someday.”

“Someday then.”

Someday came and went, but Y/N wasn’t there to witness it. The winds sing a song of loneliness. Lumine lifts her head up, closing her eyes, and listens to it quietly.

“Ah, a bard like me could not possibly fulfill that role.” Venti says bashfully. Y/N snickers, as Frederica allows herself to laugh.

“You two are the best choices I have.” Y/N smirks when Venti flushes at their friend’s statement. “Besides, two bards who know the tales of the old and wise are the best teachers a child may ever have.”

“What’s the name of your daughter?” Frederica hands her the newborn, guiding Y/N on how to hold her properly. Y/N smiles at the sleeping bundle. “Well, hello there little girl.”

Frederica slings her arm around Venti’s shoulders, laughing at his flustered state. Venti playfully glares at her, turning his gaze away. Frederica catches her breath.

“Her name is Jean.”

“Well then.” Venti strums his lyre, producing a soft tune. “Remember the song, Y/N?”

“Always.” Y/N says, as Frederica gives them her full attention. “May the winds favor you and your daughter, Frederica.”

“With your guidance, I believe she will be just fine.”

Years after that, Venti sits on the hands of his statue, and sings the same song. Inside the office of the Acting Grandmaster, Jean stops, puts down her quill, and closes her eyes, suddenly feeling relaxed and at peace.

The winds of parting are the same as the winds of reunion.

“Venti, how’s the lyre?”

Venti snaps out of his thoughts, finding Jean in front of him, waiting for his answer. Jean may never know that he and Y/N are her godparents, but she does know that HE is the Anemo archon; something even Frederica didn’t know. He takes it, strums a familiar tune, and hums.

“The winds seem to favor us today, no?” He states as a vague answer to her question. He closes his eyes and listens. The winds tell tales of danger in the near future. He wills it to protect. “Hm. Just like that day.”

Jean stares at him, confused. “What could you possibly mean?” Venti’s eyes convey loneliness.

“Ah, you were so young, you won’t remember it.” Venti hums to the tune of the song. “She would have liked to see you now, all grown up and acting grandmaster nonetheless.” He chuckles sadly. The winds carry the tune of their song for Jean to hear. She shakes her head, and closes her eyes.

“Mother used to sing this to me when I was very young.” Jean says after a few moments. “A song made by two bards. She called them her best friends.” Venti smiles, winking at her.

“One stands before you right now, the other, far away, no longer around.” He says. Jean stares at him, unsure what to make of this. “Your mother, great and proud, chose us, two humble bards. Alas, we are not able to fulfill that sole duty.” Venti yearns to hear her voice, yearns to hear her sing again. “A storm my companion predicted, a storm happened. Chaos and crisis in these times, my promise to her not yet fulfilled.”

“One shall reveal himself when the time comes.” Jean states. “My mother used to say this to me, but I didn’t know what she meant. Until now, that is.”

“Jean, young Jean,” Venti sighs. “That promise, I made to your godmother. I have yet to see it through. Feelings I have for her, I never told. I am always too late.”

“...What’s her name?” Jean meekly asks. Venti turns to her. “You are my Godfather, and as much as I am still shocked about that-”

“Your godmother’s name is Y/N.” He cuts her off, and smiles sadly. “A name forgotten, but alas, I shall not forget.”

“And I shall not as well.” Jean promises to him. Venti nods, thanking her silently for her courage that he will never have.

“Songs of her tale, I sing. People are fascinated, but never remember.”

“Then I shall pass it down.” Jean promises again. “I shall tell her story with you.”

“Come then, Jean Gunnhildr.” Venti summons the winds, willing her to hear. “Hear the tales and stories of the forgotten bard, of feelings untold.”

A woman perched on his statue, listens to the winds and smiles. “May we meet again, Venti. May the winds guide the both of you.” She smiles, and disappears with the wind.

The winds of parting are the same as the winds of reunion. But the winds of parting also tell the stories of the forgotten and of feelings untold.

***

#venti x reader #genshin impact venti #genshin impact venti x reader #genshin impact x reader #jean gunnhildr

[aseioh]

The day the earth stood still pt.2/3

Author’s Notes: Striking a deal with an Eldritch being has never been so easy

 Bela was numb.

Kneeling by the foyer of the house, she stared at the crystal remains in front of her. The whole house was in disarray, dolls once lovingly caressed now lay broken on the floor. Angie, Donna's favorite doll and pseudo-self was missing as well. Bela wanted to stand and investigate to see what had happened to cause all this devastation, but the thought of leaving Donna alone even for a second grounds her in place.

'She was alone' Bela thought, she was alone even in death. Poor Donna Beneviento the mysterious doll maker, in life and in death alone in every sense.

"It must have been hard for you, you couldn't stop him. You must have known that you couldn't stop him, only stall. Stall for a little more time" Bela talks to the crystal remains. Standing up Bela walks around the first floor of the house, she sees the fresh blood smeared on the walls.

'there must have been a chase, Angie's favorite hide and seek' shattered dolls littered the floor, sewing materials scattered on the table, books toppled from their shelf.

Bela stops by the foot of the stairs and looks at the portrait of Donna.

---

  She remembers the time Donna came to the castle for the portrait commission, how she was fidgeting on her seat as her mother sketches. Donna was nervous even with her veil on her head, the fact that someone was looking at her so intensely was making her sweat.

 "Now, now Donna no need to be nervous. It's just us girls here." Alcina tries to calm the nervous woman. "Look even Angie is calm" pointing at the doll Donna is carrying.

 "Relax love, no one will see you here. Even then it's just Cassandra and Daniela, they'd like to see you and Angie later. Daniela will definitely want to play with Angie, and Cassandra would probably ask you about crochet patterns." Bela giggles at Donna's surprised look.

 "Yes Cassandra's trying to learn crochet, when she learned that it involves stabbing things to make something she got this grin and started asking for crochet hooks" Donna giggles the sound so soft that everyone in the room can't help but smile. Alcina gives her daughter a small smile, thankful that she has managed to ease the nervous woman.

 The rest of the day went by, with Cassandra and Daniela later stopping by to chat with the woman.

---

That portrait now hangs by the staircase the most prominent thing you first see inside the house. Donna's soft smile and Angie's grin captured perfectly on canvas. Bela was so lost by the portrait that she didn't hear the door open at first. Quickly sensing that something was different around her she swarms to Donna's side ready to kill anyone that dares disturb her lover's sleep.

Standing by the door is the last person she thought she would see.

"I see you've reunited with Lady Beneviento" The Duke stands by the foyer, leaning forward with the use of a silver walking stick a suitcase by his leg. The very fact that the portly man stands in front of her unnerves Bela, that and she realizes that The Duke towers over her although not as tall as her mother.

She immediately goes on a defensive, her body shielding Donna's crystal remains.

"What are you doing here. There's nothing for you to steal" Bela sounded furious how dare this man come here and barge into Donna's home. Readying her sickle she makes a move towards The Duke.

Sensing the tense atmosphere radiating from the young woman, The Duke lifts his hand in a stopping motion. "Before you continue in this destructive way, may I suggest you listen to my proposal first" The Duke enters the house and sits at the first available seat, Bela follows the man's movement never taking her eyes off him.

"Come and sit Miss Dimitrescu, I find it easier to bargain when both parties are sitting" Bela follows the man near the table but refuses to sit. "I'll stand thank you"

"Very well, now, about my proposal. I have been a proprietor of all kinds of wondrous items, and in my life I have accumulated fantastical and often occult objects that an average man would sell his soul to obtain-" at this The Duke looks at Donna's remains then looks at Bela letting the implication of his words sink in. "Objects that can curse its owner or grant wishes that beyond your wildest dreams."

"And I would like to extend my services to you, Miss Dimitrescu" The Duke finishes. Bela was quiet as she considers the man sitting in front of her.

Was this real? can she really bring Donna back to life. But as she hopes for the miracle presented to her another thought comes into mind.

"What's the price?" at that The Duke's smile broadens. "I always knew you were a smart one, Yes, as with all things in this world there will be a price to pay. Something of equal value for starters"

“Anything” Bela says without hesitation

“Ah but I haven’t even told you what the price is. Will you still be willing to exchange once you know?” The Duke prods Bela looking for any hesitation within the woman's feature and sensing none.

"Very well, I can help you revive Lady Beneviento but the price would be steep. Both of you will have to pay for it, for your part you will have to give up half of your life to sustain her. For Lady Beneviento she would have to give up her memories of you and any lingering feelings along with it. I would guarantee that she would have a new life away from here, a new start." The Duke ends laying down the terms of his proposal.

Bela listens to every word "And your telling me that what you've just proposed is an equal exchange?"

"I did say that it's just for starters, as you are in no position to give me anything of value, I do believe that I'm the one who can determine the terms and conditions of this bargain."

Bela considers the man's word and thinks of what her mother would have done. "If I do agree with what you said" she says carefully, "What proof do you have that Donna would be safe? Why are you helping me?"

"I'm just a humble merchant, I go where I'm needed, and I can't pass up on a good business deal." The Duke said with a sharp glint in his eyes. He almost seems inhuman. "And I can assure you, I don't renege on a deal. Lady Beneviento will be taken care of."

"And what if I want second opinion from mother?" Bela questions

"I'm afraid you can't do that. This deal is between you and me. The moment you walk out that door I will be gone and you're beloved will stay dead."

Bela steels herself and walks towards Donna's remain one more time. Kneeling down and gently placing her hands on the crystalized faced, Bela thought of happier times with her beloved. "I'll make this right Donna, No matter what happens I love you. I want you to find happiness, even if I'm not in the picture."

Standing up Bela faces the merchant. "I agree to your terms, but I want your word and proof that she will be taken care of. That you will bring her outside of this damned village and away from this madness. I want your word Duke."

The portly man stands up and walks towards Bela, extending his hands and offering to seal the deal with a handshake "Well then we have a deal."

Bela accepts the proffered hand and feels herself grow weak, a few more moments and the young woman faints her last thought of was of the smile of the mysterious doll maker.

The Duke nimbly catches the young woman before she hits the floor, surprising considering his rotund body. Carefully placing Bela on the floor, he moves towards his next client "Now Lady Beneviento, I will be taking the Cadou from you and there will still be minimal scaring. Hopefully with your new identity you will forget all the pain this village has caused you." He places a white circular object near Donna's torso near her heart. Like magic the crystalized remains of Donna began to form into her old body, checking if the woman is breathing, seeing as the woman looks to be asleep.

Moving towards the door The Duke retrieves Angie from a suitcase and gently placing the doll near Donna. Satisfied with his work, he moves towards Bela, scooping up the young woman he makes his way towards his carriage. Making his way towards the castle, he spots Lady Dimitrescu at the steps of the castle foyer. The Lady has recovered enough to be able to stand and wait for the return of her daughter.

"Good evening Lady Dimitrescu, I've brought your beloved daughter back. Do not worry she's merely tired, she'll awake in no time" The Duke greets the matriarch of the castle with his usual flair. For Alcina's part she eyes the man wearily sighing "You've done something to them haven't you? I will not ask the details as I know your ways merchant. I just want to know if my daughter will be safe."

"Do not worry madam, she will be fine, as well as the newly revived Lady Beneviento."

"So she did perish, alone. My poor Donna"

"I believe she tried her best to stop Mr. Winters, but alas, the man's willpower to get his daughter back is stronger than anything. I believe you also understand that"

"I do, my daughters are everything to me" Alcina said with a hard edge and finality in her voice.

The Duke carefully opens his carriage and retrieve the sleeping woman, gently giving her over to Alcina. Alcina brings Bela closer to her embrace to ward of the cold. As The Duke makes his way towards his carriage he turns to the Lady of the castle. "I shall now return to house Beneviento to retrieve Lady Beneviento and will get her to an associate of mine that would set up her new life. after that, I do believe we have our own deal to make."

"That we do" a thought crosses over Alcina "Why help us?"

The Duke considers, this wasn't the first time he heard that question and he deals the answers in half truths "There are forces in this world that exist that even science cannot explain, the old Gods have left but few remained and continue to slumber on. Some are sympathetic to human and would grant wishes when asked. I believe that is what happened with your Mother Miranda. My associates and I keep the balance in check." the surroundings behind The Duke starts to get fuzzy and dark, static sounds seem to come from everywhere. and as soon as it starts it ends everything comes back to normal and The Duke is back to his pleasant self. "I hope that answers your question, 'til we meet again my Lady"

Alcina understands that there are some things in the world that should be left alone, this is one of these. "Yes until later then. Thank you" Alcina makes her way back inside the house, nursing Bela near her breast. Cassandra and Daniela greets them by the door, concern in their face.

"Is Bella alright, Mother?" Daniela asked

"She'll be fine my dear, we all are. When this day ends everything will be made clear and the ashes of the damned will scatter in the winds" Alcina answers cryptically as the three women make their way further inside the castle.

Inside the carriage The Duke considers the days event, chuckling to himself 'and the Day isn't even finished yet. There are many more plans to move forward and a struggling parent to help'. His thoughts came to the lovers he just helped, the bargain was just he thought. He just hoped that he had a satisfied customer.

Smiling broadly he hums a long forgotten tune, his thoughts on the sleeping woman he brought back in the castle. If his predictions are right and if Miss Dimitrescu is as smart as he thought she is, then she would be able to find the loophole that was inadvertently placed.

Donna may have lost her memories of Bela as payment, but if they were meant to be together, then Bela can simply find her again.

Better send her an address then just in case. after all he wasn't one to just put everything in one basket, a little push on the right direction should be enough.

   Now dreams run wilds, as lovers find their way        Through the nights, not a care in the world        And over there, over the twinkling of the lights        Harbor lights, say goodnight one more time 

----

Notes: Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion tomorrow!

#resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #donna beneviento #the duke #Beladonna #re8 village BelaDonna

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: Elizabeth Olsen and Jurnee Smollett Compare Notes on Genre-Blending Acting and Advocating for Performers on Set

VARIETY: Neither Elizabeth Olsen nor Jurnee Smollett are strangers to having to really stretch their imaginations to dive into complex characters and even more complicated worlds.

Both have superhero films on their résumés: Smollett portrayed Black Canary in DC’s “Birds of Prey,” while Olsen stepped into Wanda Maximoff aka the Scarlet Witch’s shoes for Marvel’s “Avengers” franchise and then some — including Disney Plus’ first Marvel series, “WandaVision.” They are both now Emmy-nominated for projects that tasked them with jumping through time, blending genres and telling epic love stories (Olsen with “WandaVision,” Smollett with HBO’s “Lovecraft Country”). And, even though they are up in different categories (Olsen in lead limited series/TV movie actress; Smollett in lead drama actress), both of these shows are one-season wonders, leaving the performers and their audiences wanting more.

Olsen and Smollett dissected all that of when Variety brought them together post-nominations to talk about their celebrated roles and surreal playgrounds.

You both had a lot of magical or otherwise surreal elements to interact with on your shows. What did you actually have in front of you to react to on set?

Jurnee Smollett: We were very fortunate on “Lovecraft Country” because the whole VFX team worked so hard to create an atmosphere that was also practical in our space. I remember on Episode 3, the exorcism scene, we shot it over a course of three days and, while there was not a man in real life with a baby head on him, you’ve got the wind machines and the pictures are blowing and all the special effects makeup is being touched up. Atticus [Jonathan Majors] has pretty much turned into a rabid dog and I’m doing this spell with my ancestors and whether they were shooting behind us or shooting the elements, we were at our max capacity regardless because that’s just how we approach the craft. It was such a big sequence to shoot that that’s when the actor in you has to advocate for your instrument. I did go to the director and say, “Can you jump in and cross shoot Jonathan and I?” As an actor it is our job to shoot however many takes, however many angles you need, but then it is also our job to advocate for yourselves. And I love playing in this space because you get to use your imagination you get to go to crazy places. Because even while the practical elements are there; you get to go to crazy places. But I was grateful for the practical elements because it’s just so much easier.

Elizabeth Olsen: Did they have pre-viz so you knew what some of the supernatural elements looked like?

Smollett: With the Shoggoths they not only had a pre-viz for us, but for some of the scenes they had massive sculptures, like a dude standing there in a green suit with a Shoggoth head. The pilot we didn’t have this puppet, but by Episode 8, maybe we got more of a budget or something, but eventually we did get a puppet — which was really cool because you could see, “This is the moment his mouth is opening.” But also, Misha [Green], our showrunner, she just wants more blood, more dirt. She’d try to get them to blow spittle at us.

Olsen: That’s so gross!

Smollett: This concoction of Shoggoth spit, throwing it in front of this wind machine. I find the more practical stuff we have to work with, it just helps so much. And then there were the moments where it’s like, “No it’s just a green tennis ball and an X, and go.” How about you?

Olsen: For all those little things in the air and stuff in the ’50s, it was really important to our director [Matt Shakman] that we did everything ala “Bewitched.” It was all camera tricks, it was all wires. Our head of special effects had a lineage of a father who [did] special effects before him, and so puppetry and wire work and stuff like that were things that were already in his vocabulary, but we would have our special effect guys who are used to blowing things up and putting things on fire just balancing and making sure things aren’t swinging but they have to move. Even in the ’70s when she’s pregnant and everything’s in chaos, we really had a picture on the wall going in circles; they just figured out things with magnets.

When we were filming the finale, it was during COVID, during the fires last summer, and we shot Kathryn [Hahn’s] side at the beginning of the episode when she has my boys with her magic — we had to shoot them out because you always have to shoot the side with the kid out and also Kathryn was doing wires for the first time and of course it was with a corset and it was really hot and really bad air quality and so she had to be sent home by the medic at the end of the day. And so, on my side we were running out of days, and I think we had 35 minutes to shoot my side and my reactions to all of that, and there’s quite a bit of back and forth and throwing myself to the ground and hitting a different mark that will then stitch with the stunt double being pulled. I did a weird one-woman show sans kids, sans Kathryn. Our stand-ins were such a huge part of our show and I was so grateful to have them they’re reading lines with me, and our director, Matt Shakman, was like, “If you feel like you can’t do this, we’ll just do this tomorrow.” That gave an adrenaline rush to me and it just became, “I’m just going to do it.” There’s a lot of fear when you’re like, “Oh I don’t have the elements and I am on my own, literally.” But I’ve had to do this before and I’m just scared to do it because I feel stupid. But I already look kind of stupid — I’m shooting things out of my hands — so why don’t I just lean into it as full as possible and just do it and find it in some core, guttural space of desperation? That day was bizarre, but I was actually very happy that I didn’t put it off. I feel like sometimes as actors when there are things that make us nervous it’s like, “Oh we don’t have enough time to explore so let’s do it the next day if we can,” and then you’re in your head all night about it. And so, it’s nice to just do it, even if it feels silly.

Smollett: I’d imagine surrendering and using the fear and all that that you were feeling probably served you so well in it.

Olsen: And don’t you feel that, though? When you feel unsupported you just want to break down in tears and you’re not supposed to break down in tears or you’re not supposed to have those it’s those feelings in the moment, but there are other times where it is really useful and there’s something freeing about channeling it in some way.

Smollett: Yeah and it’s that word you just used: freeing. Being able to surrender — leap and the net will appear. And you’re right, if you would have gone home, you probably would have come back the next day and you would have overthought it. There’s something about using the adrenaline in that moment that I don’t think you can really teach an actor to do; it’s just experience. Because we go and we prep and we do all these things, and then you get to the set and there’s one distraction, two distractions, and those are the elements that just through experience you’ve learned to use.

But I have to say, when I was little, I used to go to sleep every night watching Nick at Nite and “Bewitched” was one of my favorite shows. I did not expect you guys, at all, to go to land of “Bewitched.”

Olsen: I didn’t either. I’m so grateful to it. I felt like I like forgot my body as an actor. You’re a very physical actor, so I feel like you probably don’t have that experience because you just seem so connected and free whether it’s on stage or doing action. And I really felt disconnected from my body until “WandaVision.” I was like, “Right, I have posture; I can walk; I have legs — all of these things are going to be telling the story and it’s period and so I get to move differently.” It’s been a while since I needed to create quite a different character, and it felt so good to wake up my body to the full character work.

Just watching you in the first episode on stage, I was like, “God damn, I want to feel that free on stage with a song and with an audience.” I’m a self-conscious actor when it comes to extras and things like that. There’s something about it where the crew’s the family, and with extras, I feel so vulnerable. And you seemed so at ease and in control and confident. It made you understand her fierceness and how fearless she was.

Smollett: Thank you so much! It’s so interesting that you point that out because, for me, singing in front of people terrifies me. It truly is one of the things that terrifies me the most. The thing about Misha’s writing is, she finds a way to teach you so much about a character in such a small amount of time. And in that first sequence we learn so much about Leti, from that fearlessness you talk about, the ease that she has in herself and in her person, but then you learn so much about her hypocrisy and the contrasting ideas that are at play inside. She’s a very complex one. In the scene with her sister where she’s talking about having dreams of pioneering into an all-white neighborhood in 1955, but she can’t afford to may for socks. [Laughs.] She didn’t come to her mother’s funeral, and yet she’s here yearning for some sort of family connection. And so, I just remember reading that and feeling so drawn to her and feeling like it’s a side of myself that I needed to unearth — there’s a Leti in me that I desired to actually be, but sometimes am not. And it’s interesting because through Leti, she really forced me to do so many things that I hadn’t done before and really become more fearless, become more unbound. It was just such a very cathartic experience for me.

Olsen: I felt that way with getting to do this sitcom comedy part. I felt like I was touching my childhood version of myself who was a ham doing children’s musical theater, who just who just like played for the laughs or whatever — that part that I don’t access at all, really, when filming. And Kathryn Hahn was such a force and Paul Bettany raised to the challenge, as well, of these comedic performances that were really physically funny. I started to get more comfortable — in the ’60s, ’70s, really got comfortable — and it was so much fun to touch that child that maybe was told too many times, “Oh, you’re such a ham” or you just felt like your big personality as a kid was not OK or wasn’t as appropriate. And so, getting to play with that was really freeing and very fun. As you were saying, there’s a release I needed to have, and through the comedy I was able to have it.

How did this sense of empowerment affect how you carried your own characters’ power? Was there something your character that inspired you to advocate for yourself or did advocating behind-the-scenes inform in-world behavior?

Olsen: I felt very lucky coming into this, because this is a world I know. And so, where my voice of advocacy came in was for actors who are coming into the world — like Teyonah [Parris], wanting to make sure that she had everything that she needed to understand where her character was going because this was a character that’s going to continue [and] if she had everything she needed for stunts. And then similarly with Kathryn, she didn’t realize there was someone who she could use to teach her hand gestures for her magic. And so, she was feeling nervous and lost, like, “How do I do this thing?” And I was like, “Oh, how do you not have that information!?” And then having a conversation with whom you need to on the crew up top and figure out how to keep everyone else feeling like they had everything they needed. And luckily, because this was a show with characters that Paul and I had before, the pieces came together and it was a situation where your voice is welcomed and heard.

From “Sorry For Your Loss,” the TV show I did with Facebook, I now have a producer voice that I can’t shut up. I now just need to talk to ADs a lot, and I need to talk to line producers a lot. I realize that I like having — especially if I’m No. 1 on the call sheet; if I’m a primary part — all of the information so I can understand why decisions that seem weird are happening, or else I’m going to get in my head about, “Why are we doing this this way? I just let people know that off the bat now because it makes me less of a control freak, having information. And it is a team effort and I think the actor’s value has changed in that in that respect. There’s a lot more opportunity for women to be vocal now, and so I’m just really seizing that opportunity.

Smollett: It was a very personal growing experience for me. It was time of transition [and] I’m still going through that transition in my life. In order to truly surrender and do the text justice, there was so much I had to bring to the altar every day to sacrifice. I remember talking to Jonathan about that, and he would refer to it as allowing your heart to break and hoping that the Holy Spirit would put it back together. She was essentially a woman trying to navigate her womanhood but she was never actually allowed to have a childhood. She was habitually abandoned by her mother and didn’t know her father and there’s something in that parental-daughter split that I found myself really relating to. Oddly enough like Leti, I was estranged from my father for years. He eventually passed away, really before there was that healing and so, oh man, it brought up so much shit with Leti. How does she see the world? She sees the world through the eyes of an abandoned child. With Leti, that made her overcompensate; with Jurnee, it made me shrink a lot. When you talk about that artist child, those of us who have been in this business for so long, you take on all the sensors. And I found myself just trying to love her a little more. One of the things I admired so much about Leti is this desire to love herself — this real desire to own herself unapologetically in a world that told her she was too Black and female, to exist in her entirety. It’s still a transition that I’m in, but I definitely feel so grateful to have been able to walk through some of that and navigate through some of that with Leti. But that’s, I think, the blessing and the curse of being an artist. You’ve got to be willing to bring your whole mind, body and spirit to it; nothing’s off limits.

Jurnee, the last time you spoke with Variety we were all assuming you’d get to return to this character, but now that HBO has said it’s not being renewed, do you have unfinished business with her?

Smollett: It’s no secret I’m heartbroken. I loved Leti and of course would have loved to continue playing her. But I am so incredibly proud of the work that we all created together — it feels so special and unique — and I am finding peace in that. We’re artists and there’s an endless well that dwells inside us— and there’s so much that’s out of our control. And I think I’ve done this long enough and I’ve experienced enough heartbreaks to know you don’t get attached to the results too much; you just try to stay in a moment. And I feel just so proud and blessed to have been chosen to go on this ride with these collaborators, so I am more so in the place of gratitude than loss.

On the other end of the spectrum, “WandaVision” was a limited series but Wanda Maximoff is a character you have been coming back to for years, Elizabeth. How do you approach that longevity — the changes in her, the changes in you and the interest in revisiting her at all?

Olsen: I’m 32 and I was 25 — so seven years ago — when I did the first one. There’s so much change that I’ve had, even as an actor and how I approach work and, I think, honor work so much more in the last five years, four years of my life. [Jurnee’s film] “Birds of Prey” feels like such a female-empowered thing, so I feel there’s a really incredible energy to beginning it, but then with me you hear people make comments about Marvel movies and it affects your own process. “WandaVision” really shook that up for me and made me reinvest.

Smollett: I so want to know your process with that because the comic book space was new for me. I’d been a fan; I’d seen all your movies and the other movies. How did you navigate all of those voices? Because they can be very loud.

Olsen: Luckily and also frustratingly my character was always this emotional anchor to a piece of the story. It was like the heart, if there’s a heart. Paul and I were the only romance that was really fleshed out in those movies. And so I just treated it like I would anything. And then, we have a really fun time filming “Avengers” And so it’s really goofy and the Russos are great. And so we, it feels light-hearted, and it feels like we have the last laugh at the end of the day. But when it comes to the reinvesting, that’s the whole mind game, right? Because you just hope that it continues to have this quality control, but the more the more things get made, you’re worried about that. Especially because I did a show on Facebook that was scripted, and I didn’t love the way they handled it. And it was hard. And so second season, we went back and we literally, as a team of producers, had meetings with people who ran Facebook Watch about where we thought they could improve. We had a whole presentation for them. And then eventually, they were like, “We’re not doing scripted anymore.” And so I didn’t have the greatest experience being a part of the launch of another streaming service. And so, the Disney Plus part made me nervous and then bringing these characters that are so big to television made me nervous. But Kevin Fiege explained to us that that they were not going to cut corners, and they’re going to try and create the same attention to detail, and they did. And I think it was really important for them to have that care for these first three shows that they were putting out because it was defining a new thing for them. And so, we were taken care of.

I think more for me with this with the reinvestment moving forward, I never had a six-movie or nine-movie thing; it was always two or three at a time — those were my contracts. And so, it’s always a really conscious decision. I wrapped “WandaVision” on a Wednesday and flew to London on a Friday to continue playing this part [in “Doctor Strange 2”]. I could have used getting out of the mindset, though, because they were totally different utilizations of the character and people would have had more time to understand “WandaVision” had we not just wrapped. And so there’s just a lot of, “We covered this in ‘WandaVision…’” It’s bigger than me, there’s lots of threads that are continuing on after me that I’m not aware of, and so it’s always about, “What can I get from this journey with this character that maybe I haven’t tapped into yet with her?” That’s where I keep approaching things from, so that I feel like I have some sort of strap-hang — that I can know that there’s going to be growth of some kind, even though it all maybe looks the same to other people. There is that conscious decision to learn a new element of this woman, or even of myself as an actor — something that I want to explore that I can bring to it.

Your passion for acting is apparent and you both produce as well. What about directing?

Smollett: I would love to one day. I find myself currently being incredibly excited about producing and ushering new voices and excited voices. I don’t know that I would want to direct myself — that’s a whole other skill. I remember watching Denzel Washington, who directed me in “Great Debaters” but he was also in it, and at that point he had such a command of his instrument that he was able to do that. But it’s a lot. And I remember him telling me, before directing himself, he went and made himself watch all his films just so that he could stomach this idea of watching himself in the editing room. And so, I love the idea of storytelling; I’m obsessed with just telling stories, but I don’t know that I would self-direct.

Olsen: I find myself still loving producing so much because I love asking questions and poking holes and thinking about reorganizing of storylines, things that I feel maybe need more structure. I loved writing essays in school so much; it was like something that I found creative because it was about putting so many different sources into a braid that could maybe create this larger conversation or thought at the end. And so, that’s how I look at scripts. That’s really satisfying enough for me, to play that role. I think one day I’ll think about it more honestly, what it what it would mean to be a director. I fear that if I were to do it anytime soon, I wouldn’t have the tools that I would want. I do ask lots of lens-y questions because I’ve really only been working for 11 years and only recently have I tried to really understand the art of what lenses to choose and why and what it makes an audience feel based on what you’re choosing. I want to have a better, more holistic understanding of [that] before attempting [directing] because I do think it’s such an art and just because I understand the structuring of a story or how a set works, I want to be able to provide the the image in my head. I don’t know if I have that skill yet, but I am curious about feeding it and nurturing that.

Press: Elizabeth Olsen and Jurnee Smollett Compare Notes on Genre-Blending Acting and Advocating for Performers on Set was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

#Elizabeth Olsen #WandaVision #Avengers #Scarlet Witch #Wanda Maximoff #Sorry For Your Loss #Avengers Infinity War #Avengers Age of Ultron #Captain America Civil War #Ingrid Goes West #Godzilla #Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness #Marvel #MCU #Candy Montgomery #Love and Death #Avengers Endgame

[shadowturtlesstuff]

Dress

reputation-cressworth

so the song dress by taylor swift screams cressworth to be, the sort of mutual pining and honest love they have for each other. so i wrote a semi canon but not at all canon peice. (4k words)

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The night was lasting forever, time dragged on as people danced and drank and celebrated, despite there still being a murderer roaming the streets and slaughtering innocent women. They acted like they could never be injured by the killer just because of their class, when for all anyone knew the killer was in this room right now plotting. I hoped they started with me, just so I didn't have to experience this torture any longer; although it was highly unlikely seeing as they focused on lower class women. A pity, really, I could think of many who deserve it more. I could think of only one one person in this room that perhaps didn't deserve to suffer the fate three women already have. 

Audrey Rose Wadsworth.

Perhaps my only friend in this god-forsaken world. One that I cannot even spend time with, as one would like. It's an absurd notion but one that I can't ignore otherwise I've no job and I don't think Jonathan Wadsworth would take me on knowing I’m currently working for his rival, even if I quit myself and I did everything in my power to show off my exceptional talents and gain his trust. Especially if he finds out I'm madly in love with his niece; and have been for awhile. I must admit it was never my intention to do so, or to even be her friend, but when you are trying to solve the same crimes you tend to run into each. Often. And so overtime we became friends, begrudgingly on her part. Then, when we faced danger a few weeks back, and I thought I'd lose her over my actions and Oliver's inability to tell me the truth, we kissed. Since then we have been trying to navigate our feelings whilst also pretending to not know each other. It is incredibly difficult not to walk over to her now, take her hands and offer a dance. To then kiss her and watch her cheeks redden and her to smile at me. To know I made her smile. Each smile melts the coldness of my heart that I've spent years creating to protect myself. I believed I needn't ever need a friend nor wife. Yet, perhaps, someday Audrey could be both of those and we wouldn't need to freeze our hearts to protect ourselves.

 All night I've been trying to catch her gaze but her eyes refuse to meet mine, at least with my knowledge that is. I caught her staring when she believed I was otherwise engaged in something so that I wouldn't notice. I notice every time. It's been a fun game, the only good thing about this evening. It is someone's birthday, someone my father deems important enough to drag me along too. Even though he hates me, and I him. Even though I have no intention of finding a wife this way or taking over his business. Audrey Rose was an unexpected gift, at this party and my life. I hadn't realised she'd be here with her family but I should have assumed. Or asked, but we had only seen each other once since the kiss and most of that time was spent discussing corpses and the no longer occasional flirting. She is remarkably good at getting under my skin, at leaving me without words and making me want to just hold her in my arms for both our sakes. Her uncle and my boss would be furious if they found out we'd been sharing theories, but unlike my boss I want to solve the case to get a murderer off the streets and not the fame; Audrey Rose is utterly horrified by the grotesk way women are being violated. So the more we work together the faster we can solve it for good. 

‘You think they know more than us?’ I hear vaguely, I pull my eyes away from Audrey Rose and grimace. Mr. Douglas caught me staring but assumed it was over Jonathan Wadsworth and about the murders. 

“There's a high chance sir.” Mainly due to the man's ignorance and my inability to share my ideas with him. He takes a seat next to me so I sit straighter and force myself not to look at Audrey Rose. “I've heard the girl, what's her name?”

“Audrey Rose Wadsworth, sir.” I tell him as plainly as possible.

“Right, sure. I've heard she's helping him. I've no idea why such a pretty thing would waste her life pretending to be a detective but-”

“What?” I was going to strangle him. His complete and utter ineptitude towards Audrey Rose, to how women truly were versus what they are perceived as in society was astonishing. I would truly strangle him if I wasn't as shocked. And if I didn't have to hide my feelings for her. 

“I know I was baffled when I heard it too, she'll make herself unavailable if she keeps the way she's going.” he doesn't take his eyes off her as if he wanted to be the one to make her unavailable and not science. Even though that notion was outrageous. I rolled my eyes at him as a brilliant idea struck. 

“Hear me out, sir, what if I pursue her? I mean if she is one for science she will know about the case and I doubt she knows me so I can easily charm her and I can get whatever information I can to help us solve the case faster.” I try to explain my plan in a non desperate way. Hopefully he will think I believe Audrey Rose is incapable of figuring out deceit and that she'll just spill her guts to me; that I don't care about the case. When, in reality, I just want one dance with her. I'm exasperated in hiding my feelings and it's only been a few weeks. Maybe it would be a lot easier to try and beg for an apprenticeship with Jonathan Wadsworth than deal with this misogynistic self centered-

“Not a half bad idea. For once you have got a decent plan. Although maybe I should be the one to charm her, seen as your, well, you have as much charm as a brick wall to put it simply. So let me-”

“I'm more than capable.” I say and get out of my chair and start striding towards her before he can get there first. If he even opened his mouth to her she would berate him so heavily that he would have to hibernate until people forget. Not that Audrey Rose is forgettable in any way.  Maybe I should've let him try first just to see that. Alas, I need to at least have a conversation with her. I made my way to her table, her father and brother were conversing and her uncle looked about as miserable and irritated as I did. Audrey Rose just looked bored. 

She looks beautiful though, her pale green and blue dress offsets her darker features and highlights her dazzling eyes. The light reflects off her perfectly, showing her sharp features and illuminating her mothers necklace at her chest. When I finally reach her table her eyes find mine and red begins to line her cheeks and her brows furrow at the sight of me. I notice slightly her father and brother cease to be as they look at me as well. 

“May I borrow your daughter for a dance, sir?” I asked him. He looks confused but I'm sure he realized who I am. Who my father is. I'm sure his mind is filled with implications about what the title could do for him if we were to be wed. 

“Cert-”

“No.” her uncle interjects. Her father looks furious, brother amused and her aunt; I hadn't even noticed her aunt was there with I assume her cousin. 

“What do you mean no? She's my daughter I suggest you-”

“No. Mr. Cresswell, what are you doing? You do not wish to seek out my niece for the case do you? If so, leave now.”

I blink at the tone. Of course he'd see through it; however he is technically wrong. 

“No sir, I can see why you'd think that but I truly wish to dance. Your daughter is captivating.” I would rather seek the end of the killer's knife than continue this conversation. 

“I shall dance with you Mr. Cresswell.” Audrey Rose seems inclined to inflict the same fate as me. Without listening to the rest of her family she walks towards the dance floor so I follow her. She hesitantly puts her arms on my shoulders and I put my own on her waist. I feel lighter than I have all evening; as though I've had many drinks of champagne and Mrs Harvey's tonic. I give her a genuine smile and feel her own tension release. 

“I'm glad you saved me. I've been dreadfully bored.” She greets me in such an improper and Audrey Rose way that I laugh.

“I'll always be the one to save you Wadsworth. I am your Dark Prince. Be sure to think about me and my heroic nature whenever you're alone.” 

“Please.” She begins as we start to sway, “I have more important things to consider than you.” She tries to be serious but it is not her strongest ability when talking to me. 

“You look beautiful, Audrey Rose.” She rolls her eyes at me despite her blush. “The dress is magnificent, compliments you perfectly, although completely unnecessary, I'm sure you are perfectly capable of rendering me speechless without a dress on at all.”

Her eyes widen at such scandalous words and her cheeks redden even more but her eyes dazzle with the promise of mischief. “You claim I render you speechless yet you still speak? Are you lying or just horribly bad at compliments? Or, you hate the dress but need to charm me nonetheless?”

“Wadsworth, darling, please, do you really think that little of me? I'm merely stating the obvious, it's what I do best. And I don't need to charm you when you are already infatuated with me. If I were you I would be. And as much as you truly render me speechless with your brilliant mind, I adore your body too, an added bonus, but I will always be able to tell you how astonishing you look.”

She focuses on my face, searching for something, perhaps a lie but she finds none and smiles at me, the sweetest little smile, and I debate placing a chaste kiss to her smiling red lips to also show her how honest I am right now but know that I cannot. Not yet. So I pinch her waist slightly and she lets out a tiny squeak and pinches me back. 

“It is a good job you are not me then isn't it?” She recovers perfectly and has the audacity to look smug at me. I press my hand to my chest and gawk at her. I'm losing the battle of wits, unsurprisingly, so I move the conversation along to try and turn it back in my favour.

“I've enjoyed the game tonight, our secret moments in this crowded room no one knows about. Each little glance at me gives my heart a rush. Makes it worth being at this blastidly boring event. I've missed you.”

We remain in comfortable silence, my last confessions washing over us both. 

“When does this get easier?” She whispers to me, her eyes finding mine, glassy as she contemplates what is running rampant in her mind. “I want to stay with you all night, but after this we must return to our lives, I go back to being judged for my curiosity and you will go back to the animatronic villain the world thinks you are. When does it get easier Thomas?” 

I keep us spinning, holding onto her waist and not ready to let her disappear. She's right. It's a horrible wait to be away from her and having to wear my armour everyday. It's even harder for her to try and have a career in science and not have someone by her side, completely by her side. There must be something we can do, I can do, to make our lives better. 

“Wadsworth, how much does your uncle hate me?” A plan begins to form in my head. One I've been debating for a while. Her eyes narrow knowing I have a plan but she must be so tired as she doesn’t bother asking what and says: 

“He doesn't hate you, at least I don’t think he does. He- he isn't a person who gives positive opinions on anyone. Even me. But no, I do not think he hates you, just Mr. Douglas. Oh but he doesn't like that you are working against us. For him no less.” 

“It's not ideal, I despise him, he doesn't care about the cases, but of the fame; it makes me near vomit whenever he speaks about the women- or any woman for that matter.”

She hums in agreement, her uncle must have told her all this. “Audrey Rose, if I were to quit would your uncle offer me an apprenticeship?”

“I think so but why?”

“There are more benefits in working with your uncle than that egotistical man. The main one being right in front of me.” The words leave my mouth before I consider the consequences. I feel her grip on my shoulders tighten slightly, her gaze fixed intently at my eyes, seeking something, and her body has stopped swaying to the music. I smile, hoping to convey the utmost truth in my words. She sees it and begins to sway again, looking away and trying to calm her heart. I attempt the same. 

“You could talk to my uncle tonight, I'm sure he'd much rather discuss the case or anything remotely close to work rather than listening to my aunt.”

“Would you want me to work alongside you Wadsworth because if not I can-”

Her head whips up to me and I cringe, I've said something wrong, I just assumed she wanted to see me. “Do not finish that sentence Thomas. Of course I want you to work with me and my uncle.” 

“My brilliance is desperately needed isn't it? I mean you cannot resist my charm.” I smile and her own graces her face and the mere sight of her happy because of me makes my heart want to burst. I'm almost certain it will. She quickly acts unimpressed and rolls her eyes at me.

“No, I'm merely the one saving you from that- that man before he rots the only decent part of your brain.” She smirks at me and it's my turn to roll my eyes. 

“If you are the one saving me, will you be like the heroes in the books, because I do recall that they always give their saved maidens a kiss once they are saved?” 

Her eyes widen and her cheeks turn a deep red as she hits my arm lightly. I take that as yes as I laugh at her. The song is ending, and we've already had two dances. I should take her back to her table, I should talk to her uncle. I should do anything but kiss her. But I want to. 

Thankfully she has more self control and leads us back to her table. I stand awkwardly until she rolls her eyes at me and pushes the chair next to her with her feet for me to sit. I scowl at her slightly before meeting the gazes of all the males in her life and I revisit my early thought to perhaps dance with the murderer instead. Her father orders one of the waiters to bring a glass of champagne but I'd rather smoke. Not that this is a place to do so. The silence drowns me as the glass is set in front of me. My hands find the base and I begin to mess with the glass. Now would not be the best time to bring up the case because Jonathan Wadsworth is glaring at me. His brother elbows him slightly and then looks at me with a plastered smile. Jonathan promptly leaves in search of food and I contemplate what would be worse. Trying to follow him or stay. I steal a glance at Audrey-Rose but she has a smile dancing on her face. 

“So Mr. Cresswell, my son has been telling me a bit about you, what is it you do again?” 

“I'm a scientist sir.” His face drops and I look at Audrey Rose. 

“Surely a man of your title would pursue something other than that?”

“Science isn't about titles sir, it's just the pursuit of knowledge. You must want to know how things work, how things are made. I enjoy learning about the body, the world and how it works.” He narrows his eyes slightly and I feel as though I'm on a tightrope; any wrong word and he will push me off. Mr. Wadsworth looks at his daughter for a second before returning his attention back to his son. Once again I steal a glance at Audrey Rose and hers in on her own glass. So her father dislikes her pursuit of science. So he dislikes me too. I try and hide my contemptment and so I tap the table trying to get her attention and she looks up at me and I give her a warm smile, just for her. Only ever for her. She returns the sentiment and all I want to do is envelop her in a hug and tell her it is okay to want to pursue science. 

We remain in silence, I wonder whether I should go back to my own table but I cannot seem to be able to. Jonathan Wadsworth returns, taking a seat beside me. He is silent for some time so I speak before I begin bouncing my leg up and down. 

“Would it be okay for me to attend your school sir?” I look at his face and it reveals nothing. 

“Yes,” I sigh in relief, perhaps if I show my abilities there he will offer me an apprenticeship. I hear Audrey Rose also sigh, but for a different reason. I assume she has had no luck in being able to attend, and all it took was me asking. “On one condition,” Jonathan interrupts my thoughts, “you must stop working for Mr. Douglas.” It's a fair condition, he cannot have someone learning his theories on the crime and have them report back to someone. I consider asking to allow Audrey Rose to join me as my own stipulation but don't want to push my luck. Yet. I will ask in the future.

“Of course.” Tomorrow I shall resign, then make sure I spend lunch with Audrey Rose and discuss helping her attend the school. Not that she needs help, but I'm sure just offering her my assistance and giving her the choice to use it will be beneficial to her.

I return back to my table, albeit very reluctantly, and give some information to Mr. Douglas. I choose to ignore the surprise on his face over the fact I have some, despite me having had it for over a week now. I choose to ignore the look he gives Audrey Rose too. That is until I follow his now frowning gaze to where she is storming out of the room. He goes to stand, as though he could ever help, so I wave a hand at him and casually walk out after her. I find her nearer the edge of the garden, hands running over her arms and tears threatening to spill. 

“Miss. Wadsworth, is everything okay?” Cautiously I stand just behind her, ready to leave her if she asks to be alone; but she lets out a joyless laugh and spins to look at me. 

“Perfect, Mr. Cresswell. I am a woman in this absurd society so I must not dare think about anything remotely masculine. I must not be able to pick who I love but have my father arrange it without informing me.” The words she spits at me bite worse than the cold seeping into my bones. 

“Audrey Ro-”

“Blackburn. He chose Blackburn. He was never nice to me to be my friend, but because of him and my fathers scheming. If he hadn't been he would not have been this nice to me. I know I am not exactly the nicest person and that my interests disgust society but it was nice to have a friend.” She whispers the last part as though it pains her too. It pains me to hear it.

“Am I not your friend Audrey Rose?” The attempt at a joke is abysmal and I curse in my head at how bad I am at interacting with people, especially those I love.

“You are but you're different, you, I don't need to try with you Thomas. I have to try with everyone but you.”  I dare a step towards her and her eyes meet mine. We needn't say a thing for us to understand each other. 

“Wadsworth, I find it easy with you too. More than I even understand. This world is cruel and I wish more than anything to make it better for you, for it to be better in general. I- my father long ago gave up trying to marry me off, deeming me worthless and unable to love, and I still cannot figure out which is worse.” My voice becomes hoarse as I take her gloved hand in mine. “You are worth more to society than they realise, so please keep fighting for your freedom. I will forever remain your friend if that is what you wish to happen, to help you figure this world out.” I'll be more than your friend if you wish that too. I fail to add. Her hand tightens on mine and I fail to breathe properly. 

“Thomas,” she breathes out, it caresses me slightly, her voice smooth and sure, “you are not unlovable, your father is a fool. An utter fool. I want you by my side always, I fear I couldn't do this without you.” Closer she comes, impossible so, and I fear I may have to think about anything menial so I do not kiss her and inevitably ruin this. “What if, what if it was more than friends though?” Her question is hesitant, and my heart stops dead. We may have kissed, may have flirted, but a part of me never considered she reciprocated my feelings. “I- I’m sorry.” She stammers, taking a step back, misjudging my silent shock. I wince and keep her hand in mine. Her own shock widens on her face and I speak before she can beat me to it. 

“Wadsworth I'd like that too.”

There is a second of silence as it sinks in. “You would?” 

“More than anything. I care deeply about you. I shall court you like a proper gentleman if that is what you wish” I return to how we stood seconds ago as she snorts at my statement. 

“You are anything but a gentleman Cresswell.” The smile returns on her face as we both laugh. “It may be my favourite thing about you.” I flash her a devilish smile. 

“I am fully aware, love, that you love the scandalousness of my words. Would you like to go back inside or return home, I am sure I can get us a carriage to share.”

“Us? Thomas you do not live with me.”

“Yet.” I add. She rolls her eyes but does not disagree. “It would be ungentlemanly to let you return home alone; and purly scandalous to be in close quarters with you.” I wink as she retreats from me to where the carriages are. 

“Very well, you may escort me home. From a distance.” She adds with narrowed eyes and I laugh at her implications but follow her nonetheless. I follow her into what seems like a new life, new hopes, ones I never thought possible. Her dress swishes around her, sweeping around her ankles at her light steps. The green gems twinkle against the lamplights, her hair cascading down her back, covering the slight cut of the dress, hiding her skin. Devastating. Utterly captivating. Her footsteps stop as she realizes I have not moved. She turns to face me, brows furrowed. I blink and brush away my thoughts to follow her. 

“Are you alright?” She asks, falling into step with me. 

“Yes of course, I get to leave with the most dazzling woman at the party.” 

We link arms, pay for a carriage and start to head towards Audrey Roses’ house. We sit across from each other, but the carriage is small, and I happen to have quite long legs that are deliberately stretched out to brush against hers. I catch her trying not to stare at me so I nudge her and slowly she looks at me. “I am still watching for that kiss, Wadsworth.”

She blinks and I raise my eyebrows at her new forming blush. She had not listened to what I said at all. “Wadsworth?” I ask and she hums a response shaking her head slightly. 

“Cresswell?”

“My kiss? I am still waiting for it.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion then her eyes widened as she processed the words. I lean forward, even as doubt pricks at my mind that she doesn't want to kiss me and will throw me out of the carriage if I move any closer to her. But she doesn't allow those thoughts to take over me completely as she leans in too and her lips meet mine. Warmth fills me, as we press closer together, my hand holds her knee and tightens as she deepens the kiss slightly. The kiss is gentle, soft and somehow better than the first one. The one before had been rushed, a kiss to convey how much we were thankful neither one of us was hurt. This kiss held promise, one I fully intended to keep. I hold my best friend closely for a second longer before I pull back, I search for any doubt in her eyes but find none. I only find adoration in her bright green eyes, her flushed cheeks and slightly bruised mouth. No regret. No hesitancy. So I press a small kiss on her lips and lean back so we can regain our composure before we leave the carriage. 

“I should save you from boring events more often if it means kissing you like that.” Her answering smile leads me to believe that she'd like that too. 

(i love writing dramatic Thomas)

i am working on the asks sent, i have plans and ideas for them so watch on in the next few weeks for them. i also have a feysand idea that i want to do

tages:  @fangirling-again (thank you for editing)  @city-of-fae  @the-hoofflepooff @padfoot-sirius-black @goatahoan @kittycat2187 @loveyatopluto @goddess-of-writing @yikesitsmaddie @lovecakeandmore @boredbookwormgirl

#sjtr #hpd #efh #ctd #cressworth #cresswell #thomas cresswell #Audrey Rose #audrey rose wadsworth #stalking jack the ripper #hunting prince dracula #escaping from houdini #capturing the devil

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write Day 3

Scale– each of the small, thin horny or bony plates protecting the skin of fish and reptiles, typically overlapping one another. - OR - an instrument for weighing, originally a simple balance ( a pair of scales ) but now usually a device with an electronic or other internal weighing mechanism.

(yes there's other definitions, these two are what's relevant for my response)

It was a somewhat chilly morning in the Azim Steppe as Dahkar Darkspear, Warrior of LIght and kahn of the Azim Steppe, strode through Dotharl Khaa, striding in the direction of the khatun's tent.  Hushed whispers seemed to follow him, as every Dotharl Xaela in the settlement could not stop watching him or speaking quietly to each other.

It made little sense to Dahkar. He was a Xaela himself and a regular fixture in the settlement at least once a week. He made sure to check in with all of the major leaders of the Steppe regularly to hear news, arbitrate disputes, and otherwise do whatever he could to ensure the people of the Steppe were mostly doing well.

Well, almost all of the leaders. He ignored Magnai and Daidukul on principle. Esugen, the Oronir's culinarian he'd helped a few times, made sure he was always in Reunion when he knew the khan would be arriving so he could pass on information about the Oronir and the Buduga.

He was a day early in this instance, so perhaps that was the reason behind the whispers. He put it from his mind as he approached the woman standing in front of the khatun's home.

Shar smiled and nodded to him. "Welcome, khan. You're early this week."

He smiled back to her. "That I am, Shar. How's your son doing?"

"He's growing well. The khatun does not yet know who is behind his eyes, but it has been but only a couple of moons. She is confident the soul within will reveal themself soon enough. I'm very excited to re-meet whoever it is!"

"I look forward to the day I can meet them. Is Sadu within? I have some...well let's just say an interesting proposal for her"

Shar smirked at him. "Oh, really now? Very bold of you, khan. Very Dotharl. I hope you're ready for a long fight. When my husband proposed to me, we fought for 10 bells straight!"

A look of shock crossed Dahkar's face, descending into horror. "What? No! Not that kind of-!"

She began laughing, loud and from her belly. "HA! Aahahaha! Oh, khan, the look on your face! Priceless!" In between fits of giggling, she opened the tent's flaps to admit him.

"Pretty sure there's rules against sassing your khan" he muttered to her as he walked past her, into the tent. "And if not, I'm gonna make some." This did nothing to stop her laughter.

The tent's sole occupant, a beautiful white-haired Xaelan woman dressed in her people's blue attire with a horned darkwood staff, turned to him. She smirked at him. Dahkar had often witnessed that smirk directed at him, but it was only now that he noticed Shar had given him a very similar one. Clearly she'd been taking lessons.

"Well, well, our glorious khan graces us with-". She suddently stopped and looked at him, frowning. "What in all the hells are you wearing?" she asked, incredulously.

Dahkar looked down at his attire, a style he'd seen many on the Steppe wearing during his first two trips there. He'd made sure to acquire some before departing that second time, aetherically aligned towards boosting magicks. "What? It's hardly unusual. Hells, I saw many of the Dotharl wearing very similar garb on my way in. Granted, this is white in color, but I didn't want everyone to assume I'd joined the Dotharl or-"

"No no, the garb is fine. But...I have never seen you wear anything other than that heavy black armor you favor. Or carry any weapon other than those slabs of metal you refer to as swords. Now you wear this? And is that the weapon of a conjurer on your back?"

Ah. That explained the stares and the whispers. "Yes, it is." He removed the cane from his back. The white crystal embedded in its head began to glow, a series of green-yellow energy lines shimmering around the head of leaf-covered branches. "Before I ever took up the sword of the Dark Knight, I was a conjurer. Pretty good one, in fact. So good they actually decided to let me train as a White Mage, which...well, you probably aren't aware of what those are or why it's a big deal. Suffice to say, I'm damn powerful with conjury."

"Hmmph", she signed, annoyed. "And what, you just decided that one day, it didn't work for you and took up a giant sword, instead?"

"Not quite that simple, but that's not far off the mark. Bad things happened to me and I changed in response to them in part by taking up the art of the Dark Knight." He shrugged and slung the cane over his back again.

"Oh yes, our glorious khan knows all about change!  You and that Doman. First you win the Naadam, as foreigners no less, then you rope us into this alliance of yours and persuade us to fight those men of metal and machines!" Sadu threw up her hands and turned her back to him. "Tell me, khan, what change will you bring next?"

Dahkar sighed. It was an argument he'd heard from her, and others, many a time. "Are we really doing this every time, Sadu? You know there's no rules against foreigners entering Bardam's Mettle, nor against competing in the Naadam. You agreed to help Hien and I fight the Garleans. Multiple times. You even told me you enjoyed the battle to liberate Ala Mhigo! You aren't actually angry about any of this, because you know what i know. Change is inevitable, stagnation equals decay."

She turns, smiling at him again. There's still mockery in her smile, but not as much this time. "Hrmph. Fine, you are correct. I suppose I just wanted to throw you off balance. As usual, you are hard to break. So what brings you to us a day early? It's too early in the day for you to have gone anywhere else first, so I assume this is important."

Dahkar smiled. "That it is. I want to talk with you about the future of the Steppe, and of the Dotharl, specifically."

Sadu's narrowed and her smile turned downward. She crossed her arms. "Speak. I suspect I will not like this, but you have earned the right, many times over, so I will hear you."

"It's simple, really. Many of the other Xaela fear the Dotharl. They see you as merciless raiders who seek only to deal death to them, who lust only for battle and killing. I would have you change that perception."

"And just how would you have me do that? Moreover, why would I even WANT to? The Dotharl live for battle. How many times have you heard me say it, khan? 'In battle do our souls burn bright, and in death do they sing'. Those are not empty words, they define us."

Dahkar smiled. "I'm well aware. I'm also aware that you very much realize that your way of life is not sustainable to the Dotharl's continued existence. You admitted as much to us, Gosetsu and I, that day we first met." Sadu turned her face away from him, eyes downward. "Hrmph. So I did. What of it? We have endured thus far. I will not compromise our way of life, khan"

"I'm not asking you to. What I propose is not a change to it, but a direction for it. I would have the Dotharl become protectors of the Steppe."

She turned to him again, her face a mixture of shock and rage. "...Protectors??  Have you heard a word I've said?" Dahkar raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Wait, just hear me out. It's not as radical as it seems, and it will solve your biggest problem of numbers in the long run."

Sadu resumed crossing her arms, glaring daggers at him. "...fine."

"Very well. First of all, I ask you what exactly the Dotharl gain in making war on weaker tribes? You yourself told me that only in great battle does the soul burn brightly, so what does it gain your warriors to slaughter those of lesser skill in battle than you? Seems unworthy of you. Turning that strength on the marauders who engage in such unworthy predation? That seems like a far better chance for a real battle. Not to mention the Steppe is crawling with monsters and vicious animals of various types. They may pose no threat to most tribes, certainly, but there are those to whom a monster attack is a death sentence. You can protect them and test your strength and bravery at the same time."

"If memory serves, you told me that it was in a monster attack that your own tribe was slaughtered. Purbols, I believe. I can't help but wonder if this is why you ask this of me."

"Which leads me to the second benefit this would bring to you. What do you suspect would have happened had the Dotharl come to our aid?"

"I imagine you would have been grateful, which is hardly worth anything to us."

"Gratitude is a long-term investment, Sadu. Think on it. If I'd been raised on tales of the tribe of warriors that saved us from vicious monsters, that fought back against other marauding tribes that kidnapped people like the Buduga? There's a very good chance that I would have bid farewell to my tribe and joined you all the day I came of age."

A single eyebrow raised. "You would have?"

"Very likely. I became an adventurer because it seemed like the easiest way to earn a living helping people and making things better. If my tribe hadn't been killed and my mother fled the Steppe? I doubt I'd be so different as to not want to do the same, still. Joining the Dotharl, becoming an undying one, born again and again to fight to save people, to help them? Well, it would have been extremely appealing to me. And I doubt I'm the only one, too. In time, I believe this swell your numbers significantly. Furthermore, when the Naadam comes around again, all those tribes you helped? Seems to me like they'd be more willing to help you as allies. In time, this will tip the scales in the Dotharl's favor and you'll reliably have more than enough numbers to rout the Oronir without question. Frankly, I would rest easier knowing the Steppe was in your hands rather than Magnai's. So long as you don't intend to break your word to the rest of the Othard Alliance, that is.  I'll kick BOTH of your asses for as long as I have to, if that's your intent."

She smirks viciously again. "Is that a challenge, khan?"

All mirth or joy fades from Dahkar. "No, Sadu, it's a promise. I have fought through some hellish things these past few moons, and I know that the worst of it is yet to come, and it's going to affect the entire world when it does. I take it you've heard about that large metallic tower that suddenly appeared off the southern coast of Yanxia? They're all over the world, and they're part of it. The Steppe is going to get caught up in this whether the people want to be or not, and I would rather my people fight what's coming together with all of the Alliance than risk being slaughtered and their culture gone. So yes, if I have to fight you to preserve that, I will. But I'd rather see to it that the Dotharl are in a place to help preserve it and maybe even guide it to a better future without leaving tradition behind entirely."

Shock appeared on Sadu's face. "....very well, I'll admit your suggestion has merit. I will not give you an answer now, however. I will need time to think on this, discuss it with the others."

"I expected no less."

"And I demand another battle with you as payment for even entertaining your presence!"

Dahkar rolled his eyes. "I expected that would be the case as well. You DO know that we're going to be interrupted, right? Magnai and Daidukul and whatever others he decides to bring with him are going to show up and whine about us not asking his permission or something along those lines."

Sadu's vicious smirk was on her face again. "I am counting on it!"

"You don't actually want to fight me at all. You want to fight at my side."

"More than one way for our souls to burn bright, khan."

#FFXIV 2021 Writing Challenge #Dahkar Darkspear #Final Fantasy XIV

[palettepainter]

Part of the family

Idk what Ecto’s birth name is so I’m going to have his parents/other characters refer to Ecto as Ekuto. It translates to ecto in Japanese, real creative but I’ll use it as his birth name till we get a cannon one confirmed

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

Higari scratched at the collar of his shirt, and then tugged uncomfortably at the waist of his trousers

“I’m really not used to wearing this monkey suit..” he said mostly to himself, looking down at his blazer he’d dusted off from his cupboard. Higari only owned one formal suit, and only ever wore it on rare occasions. Even after spending so many years teaching at UA and attending so many events or interviews, he’d never gotten used to all this fancy shmancy stuff.

“Well you look very handsome in one~” Ecto stood near by in the hotel room comparing bow ties, one hand on his hip and other on his chin. He too was also in a suit, the two both dressed up for a night out at a formal party event. The two had been invited as guests to a charity event by Ecto’s parents, who where two key supports of said event. Really they where attending as undercover security, so obviously they had to fit the part

Higari peered over to his husband, gave him a cheeky glance up and down before walking over. “You don’t look half bad yourself” he said with a lazed smirk, hand snaking it’s way over and around Ecto’s hips. Ecto hummed again him, raising one brow before he lifted up a red bow. “Hm..how about this one?” He asked

Higari shrugged “You know suits better then me, not like I got any clue which bow goes with what dress shirt”

“Oh stop it” Ectoplasm said, kneeling down to help tie the bow in place. With Higari’s altered finger tips it made things like tying bows all the more challenging, thankfully Ecto was skilled in the art and had the bow on Higari in a matter of seconds “You look wonderful!” he straightened out his blazer, and for good measure, nuzzled his nose on Higari’s forehead in the form of a kiss “Besides, it’s only for a few hours. When we get back you can change into something more comfortable”

“Or waddle around naked” Higari suggested, waiting eagerly to see Ecto’s reaction. Knowing it was oh so easy to get Ecto flustered

Ecto hummed, as if pretending to think it over, managing to remain calm before the corner of his mouth crinkled up into a smile “Hm..maybe~” Higari’s trade mark grin spread across his face with a giggle. Ecto tried to keep cool even if the face of his husbands adorable little laugh “But lets save that for after the party. I don’t want you causing mischief”

Higari hummed, humoured, sensing a challenge. Expertly he sauntered his way over and looped his arms around Ecto from behind, pressing his face into the small of Ecto’s back “Hm, are you calling me a bad boy?~”

Ecto turned as best he could to peer down at Higari, his brow cocked in amusement at his antics, struggling to keep a neutral tone despite how flustered he was actually feeling from Higari’s flirting - the sneaky mink “I won’t hesitate to put you in your place if that’s what you’re implying”

Ecto could tell Higari had one of those smiles on his face, but before Higari could say anymore Ecto pried his arms off him. Higari let out a small whine, disappointed the fun was over “However, we do have a charity event to get to” he said while releasing Higari’s hands, pulling on his blazer that he hung on the chair. Higari crossed his arms, hiding a pout behind his fringe “Mn, yeah I guess so..”

“Don’t whine” Ecto said, mocking a tone a mother would use with a child. “..It won’t be that bad” he reassured while looking himself over in the small mirror by the cupboard “They’ll be food and drinks, and all we have to do is mingle and be prepared if something calls for us to step in”

“Mm, yeah I guess” Higari said

He joined Ecto over at the door before the two walked out together into the hall. Higari had been to a few arguably fancy events, the fanciest it ever got at UA where interviews with the press outside UA grounds, or the UA prom for the third years, that was about it. Don’t get him wrong, Higari still preferred a pair of joggers to a suit and bow, but alas he’d signed up for this when he became a teacher at UA. As much as he didn’t like formal events, too crowded for his liking, they had to set a good example for UA

And going to a formal event with Ecto made it bearable.

Upon arriving at the venue the first thing he noticed was how bright everything was, didn’t help his sensitive eye sight. He tried to not let it bother him as he and Ecto stepped out of their car and made their way inside to a large main room where all the guests where gathered. Thank god Ecto was tall, at the very least he could navigate this maze, Higari couldn’t see over the top of all the other guests even if he tried! After checking in with the rest of the security and into the main hall Ecto grabbed for Higari’s hand

“Lets go and wait over at the side” Ecto said, already making his way through the crowd with Higari on his tail towards the side of the room, where the two where somehow able to find an unoccupied table in the sea of people. “Didn’t think it’d be this busy” Higari said while observing the room, he couldn’t help but feel a little weird - being in such a decorated room with all these fancy rich people.

“Me too” Ecto said, returning to the table with two wine glasses. “Regardless, we should try and enjoy ourselves” he handed Higari a glass, which he accepted with a small nod of thanks. He swigged it down in a swift gulp, Ecto blinked, taken a back. “Careful there..” he teased, drinking lightly from his own glass. “Sorry Ecto” Higari said, placing his glass back down onto the table “Big events like this always make me nervous..” he admitted, if it was anyone else other then Ecto he wouldn’t have shared such a personal fear

“It’s alright, just remember it’s only for a few hours. And if nothing goes wrong we may be allowed to leave early”

Higari hummed in reply, one hand tapping on the table while he idly glanced about the room, trying to see if their was anything else in here other then a crowd of bustling people. With his hair brushed aside it made seeing things a bit more easier, which is why it didn’t take him long to recognise an approaching face in the crowd.

“Angel!” Mrs. Kurōn, Ecto’s mother, happily emerged from the crowd and rushed over as quickly as she could towards the table, Ecto already standing from his chair to greet her. “Oh I’m so happy you two could make it!” She said, greeting Ecto with a quick hug before she looked to Higari “It’s so nice to see some familiar family faces! - and Higari, it’s lovely to see you could make it too dear!”

“Evening Mrs. Kurōn” Higari said, waving his hand. Despite having already met Ecto’s parents he was still a little shy around them, maybe it was added nervousness of the fancy party making him feel particular shy, he wasn’t sure.

“Where’s dad?” Ecto asked, looking around to try and identify his other parent “I haven’t see him yet, he’s not with you?”

“Your father is catching up with some old work colleagues” Mrs. Kurōn answered while she straighten out Ecto’s tie, smiling at the dorky spotty pattern he’d chosen. “I doubt he’ll be too long” she said “He’s a social butterfly, I’m sure you’ll bump into him at some point - you remember Mister Zeikin?”

Ecto thought for a moment before his eyes widened with realisation “Yes I remember, didnt dad say he was one of his old team members before you and him married? He came round for dinner a few times”

His mother nodded “Yes he was, he’s the one who helped organise the decorating for this event. Oh! And you remember Megumi? She’s here too!”

“Megumi?..” Ecto repeated, thinking once again before he smiled “I haven’t seen her since..god it must have been at our prom party at UA” he said, my how time flied. Higari looked to and from between them, not understanding who they where talking about but obviously seeing that Ecto must have clearly known of them “Seems like centuries ago doesn’t it? I still have those prom photos laying about somewhere at home” Mrs. Kurōn suddenly gasped, and put a hand on Ecto’s shoulder “Why don’t we go over and see them? You two where good friends back at UA, I’m sure she’d be very surprised to see you again!”

“Hm..well, mum-“ Ecto looked back towards Higari, who sensing Ecto’s worries raised his hand “Don’t worry about me, you can leave me alone for ten minutes” Higari smiled and gestured away “Go mingle, tell Mr. Kurōn I said hi”

“Are you sure?” Ecto repeated, clearly not convinced. “You could always come with us” Higari again simply repeated his gesture “I’ll be fine! I’m a grown man, don’t worry. Sides-“ he shrugged “I don’t her, I wouldn’t know what to say. I’d just be awkward”

“Hm..” Ecto threw a glance over his shoulder to the crowd and then to his mother, who smiled wider. He hummed again “..Well” his worry melted away, a relieved smile coming to his face “Alright then!” He turned around, his mother leading the way “I won’t be long!” He called to Higari just as they got swept up into the crowd. Higari waved goodbye until Ecto and Mrs. Kurōn was out of sight, guess it was just him now.

Thirty minutes passed, and Higari restrained himself from glancing down to his watch again.

“Hm..Ecto’s been gone a while” he said to the empty table, one hand holding his face while the other fiddled with the salad fork. Busying himself with tinkering away at one of his inventions was off the table with the current location he was in, he figured it wouldn’t be very ‘proper’ of him to suddenly start rebuilding a toaster in front of all these guests. Not like he needed to give them a reason to stare. “Maybe I’ll see what there is to eat” he suggested, sliding off his chair as he tried to locate the food table.

These kinds of parties always had the weirdest foods, and always in such small servings, Higari could never wrap his head around it. He’d hoped there’d be something at this food table that would satisfy his hunger until they could back to the hotel room, where he’d already decided he’d order the most greasiest take out junk food if this party food ended up being like all the rest. Reaching the table he was glad he kept his expectations low, as expected all the food was tiny, bowls of expertly prepared salads, a board full to the brim with cheeses, beautiful made sushi pieces, rice cakes - nothing he hadn’t seen before at fancy events.

Thinking it was better then nothing he picked up a plate and two rice cakes “Guess this’ll do” he muttered, and tried to make his way back towards his table...key word being try. Trying to navigate his way back from point B to A was harder then he thought, finding a needle in a hay stack seemed easier then this! With a snort he gave up on his mission, and instead made himself comfy on one of the balconies overlooking the venues garden, which was also lighted and decorated appropriately to match with the main hall.

He picked up a rice cake and munched into it, blinking slowly - god this was boring. At this rate he was starting to wish something would happen that required security to step in, at least that would give him something to do..

“Excuse me?”

Higari hummed, mouth full of rice cake as he turned to the owner of a voice. A fairly sizeable man stood at the entrance back inside the building, his shirt looked just a bit too tight over the skin of his stomach, his eyes looked at Higari with a somewhat studying look. It made Higari feel fidgety. He quickly swallowed his mouthful, trying to discreetly wipe his mouth to get rid of any rice that stuck onto his face “Uh, did you need something?” He asked, turning back up to the man who approached with a hum

“By chance are you..Higari?”

Higari rose a suspicious brow under his hair but tried to keep his suspicion hidden “Yes” he answered. The man stood next to Higari with a look he couldn’t place his finger on, there was something about it he didn’t like. It made a sickly familiar feeling of worry present inside him. His lips where pulled back into a smile, at least, Higari thought it was a smile - despite how it gave him the unfortunate impression that it was forced “Hm, my I didn’t think I’d get to see the man himself..” the man peered down at Higari for a long moment, as though he was a specimen under a microscope, it made Higari shudder

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know you..”

“I’m Mister Zeikin” the man seemed to puff out his chest, as if to symbolise his importance or his name was a grand title. Zeikin? That name sounded familiar “Hm..Oh yeah” Higari nodded lightly “Ecto’s m-Uh..Mrs Kurōn told me you where talking with her husband” the man nodded, turning his gaze to the horizon, one hand lightly swirling the wine in his glass. “Hm yes yes, my dear friend Akarui, known to you as Mr Kurōn, mentioned you when his wife and son came over.” He took an unhurried sip of his drink, eyes admiring his glass once he was finished “And I just had to see if his words held true”

Higari still didn’t understand, but the man was soon turning back to look at him before he could remain confused for much longer “Well done, Higari. You truly are a fascinating man” he praised warmly “So very charming from what I hear of, and sweeping Ekuto off his feet. Lucky him indeed”

Higari felt surprisingly flattered at the praise, growing sheepish at this flood of compliments. He awkwardly rubbed at his neck, smiling regardless “...Well, thank you.”

“But of course!” Zeikin pressed “Its astonishingly brave that you can be so open with displaying such affections..” His gaze slowly returned to Higari, his eyes lingering on him, a glint in his eye. “...Well, all things considered”

Higari bristled, though the man was still smiling, Higari felt attacked at the way he’d worded his sentence. His eyes narrowed “..Whats that supposed to mean?” He asked, leaning his head back to peer up at him.

Zeikin took another slow sip from his drink, smooth and slow as though Higari’s suspicion wasn’t noticeable. He had an air of confidence around him, as he turned back down to Higari “My fine fellow I mean no ill will. I’m sure you are a very...adorable lover” he offered politely “I just can’t help but think about the insecurities that come with the role”

“...Insecurities??” Higari blinked, his cheeks heating up “Theres nothing about our relationship that-“

“You’re from country aren’t you?” That cursed smile finally dropped, his tone all of a sudden flat “It leads a man to wonder just how it is Akarui’s son ever settled for..” Higari didn’t like the look he was giving him, regarding him with the same interest someone may give a piece of gum on the sidewalk “..someone so inferior”

“I...” Higari tried to bite back his temper, he’d hate himself if he lost his temper at an event that was so important to Ecto’s parents. He’d never forgive himself. He tried to take a calming breath, tried to think of happy things, but his insecurities - insecurities this man had targeted - they began to mock him, making his anger rise more. “That’s not any of your business sir” Higari tried to say without growling

“Ah, but it is” the man insisted with detached happiness, as though he was talking with a child. Higari stiffened “You see, Akarui and his family are dearly close to me, despite his.. imbecility” he casted a side ways scowl off into the distance “I would simply hate for something to taint their families image. Wouldn’t you agree?” He looked back down to Higari, who remained frozen, not seeming able to move, his legs not responding to his mind telling him to just walk away. Turn around and walk away! But he couldn’t, he felt offended, how dare he even think Ecto would view him that way!

Ecto would never!...r-right?..

“Ecto would never think of me that way” Higari was now furious, and it was becoming increasingly hard to keep his cool

“Oh well of course he wouldn’t” Zeikin held up his hand, trying to appear passive, and fixing Higari with a look that dropped with artificial sympathy “The dear Kurōn family are far too polite to ever show such disbain openly.”

“...I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about” Higari managed to conjure words despite still being paralysed, face hot, eyes shiny. “They wouldn’t-..” he corrected himself “Don’t think of me that way”

“Hm, perhaps” Zeikin nodded, peering skyward, not meeting Higari’s eyes. “Perhaps I am wrong, perhaps my years of knowledge through being their work colleague and associate do not mean a thing at all to you, perhaps the idea they may look at you differently is so foreign to you. You play the role very well, I commend you!” He gestured towards Higari with a titled head “Dressing up in that fancy suit, attending a formal gathering such as this, all for an attempt to fit in with a crowd not meant to house someone of your background. Yet, you try anyway. How very brave of you”

Higari’s throat suddenly felt tight, eyes stinging as tears swelled in the corners “Are you...mocking me?” His voice was shaky, something fragile behind the front he tried to put up.

“Heavens no” he looked offended at Higari’s weak question, scoffing “Conformity happens with everyone, I just find...amusement in your particular case.” He smiled, teeth an all, eyes narrowed cruelly at Higari, who looked timid. “To think you ever thought someone like you would ever be accepted.”

Higari stumbled back a foot, breathing going funny as he desperately tried to think of a response-

“I do hope we aren’t interrupting anything important.”

Higari startled, almost falling over his own feet. Behind him, standing less then three feet away was Akarui, Ectoplasms father. Brows creased like gathering thunder heads, mouth pressed into a thin frown with his arms crossed, not looking impressed. Behind him just off of the balcony, just looking to have caught up, was Ecto and Mrs Kurōn. At the sight of Ecto Higari flinched, curling up and looking away. Akarui’s look softened, concerned, before he fixed the business man across from his with a withering glare.

“I do hope you have a good explanation for this, Zeikin.” His eyes narrowed “For your sake.”

The man looked to do a double take, blinking “Ah, Akarui” his calm facade still held, but it was obvious the man standing behind Higari was not falling for it, cocking a bold brow. “So..wonderful you could join us” he smiled, walking closer. Akarui stepped forward without hesitation to shield Higari from view with his taller stature. Higari glanced up to him in confusion, blinking back tears

“We where simply having a talk amongst men” He assured, but Akarui’s frown only deepened. “It didn’t soundthat way” he stated, not subtly at all. Zeikin looked to him as though he’d been slapped, as Ecto and Mrs Kurōn hurried their way over.

“Higari? Are you okay?” Ecto asked, crouching down slightly to be at eye level with Higari, sensing almost instantly that something was wrong. Higari flinched away when Ecto reached for him, and he felt guilty immediately after. “Higari?..” Ecto said quietly, his hand lowering

Zeikin offered his colleague a grin, one that looked too wide “Whatever are you talking about Akarui?” He glanced down to Higari who Akarui stood in front of, he shot Zeikin a warning glare while Higari tried to hide himself from the mans sight. “It was but a simple conversation, a time for me to air some..thoughts on your..” Zeikin looked to be struggling to find the right words, everyone’s eyes (minus Higari’s) all on him.

“..new acquaintance-“

Slap

Akarui slapped away the others hand that was gesturing to Higari, eyes boring into him with a look that could kill. Zeikin baffled, pulling his hand back to him while fixing Akarui with a scowl. “I will have you know, that acquaintance you are referring to, has a name.” Zeikin opened his mouth to repomand Akarui for daring to hithim, but Akarui beat him to the punch, not giving him time to find his words.

“And he, Higari, happens to be my sons romantic other, and my son in law” he said sternly, loosing patience, what little of it had left for the fat cat before him.

Zeikin looked caught off guard, not expecting that kind of powerful reply from his work partner. He rose an unimpressed brow, fixing him with an equally icy look, Akarui failed to cower even as Zeikin took a step closer. “How very noble of you Akarui. Always playing the role of hero infront of your son aren’t you” he whispered, Akarui growled, a warning. “Can’t help but want to defend those who feel..out of place-“

Ecto had heard clearly what had been said, his mother gasping quietly. Ecto sneered, and leapt to speak-

“Perhaps I am not making myself clear enough.” Akarui stated calmly, closing his eyes “Allow me to say this once. Nicely.”

White, powerful light suddenly burst from Akauri’s eyes, like the birth of a new star. His eyes glowed hot with the heat of the sun, the light pouring from his eyes startling Zeikin, his own scared reflection staring back at him from Akauri’s empty white eyes. “My sons happiness, means everything to me and my wife. If you ever dare to try and intervene with that again, or try to approach Higari again..” he narrowed his eyes, his eyes glowing brighter, making him appear imposing, powerful. Eventually, Zeikin looked away, accepting defeat “You will be answering to me.”

Akarui blinked, and the light vanished, his cold merciless glare remaining as he fixed Zeikin with another deep frown “Do I make myself clear?”

“....Crystal.”

“Good” Akarui said, his tone to the point. “...I think it’d be better if you took your leave Zeikin” Akarui stepped aside and tilted his head over towards the entrance back inside the building.

Zeikin looked stuck, refusing to admit his loss, he straightened his tie and stood up straight - pretending as though his scare mere minutes ago hadn’t happened “Hm..Yes, maybe I will.” He dusted off his arm, acting aloof “Company in the main hall will be far better then wi-“

“No” Mrs Kurōn, who had remained quite until now fixed the man with her own scowl, Ecto doing the same with his arms wrapped around Higari. “We think you should leave” she repeated. Even Higari was taken aback by her sudden shift in tone, not knowing the gentle women could be capable of sounding angry. Zeikin gawked, working his jaw and looking rapidly between the two, waiting for one of them to admit it was a joke.

“...Hurry along” Akarui said, tilting his head again towards the building, not flinching even as Zeikin got dangerously close to his face to glare at him. Akarui remained standing where he was, before Zeikin, with a small snort, hurried off back inside and out of sight

Akarui let out a breath, shoulders slumping.

“Higari are you okay?” Ecto’s hands cupped Higari’s cheeks, noticing how his eyes looked teary, his worry grew ten fold at the sight as his heart plummeted at seeing him so sad “He didn’t try anything did he?” Ecto shook his head “I shouldn’t have left you alone!..”

“N-No no!” Higari waved his hands, taking Ecto’s hands away from his face as he tried to desperately rid the tears that where close to pouring down his cheeks. “I’m- I-I’m fine, he just..don’t worry about it” Ecto didn’t look convinced, nor did his mother, who’s eyes widened when she caught sight of a single tear falling down his face. “Oh honey..” she quickly pulled a tissue out of her small bag and held it out to him, just as Higari sniffled, the dams beginning to break.

“Come on” Ecto gently held Higari’s hand, the feeling of something familiar, something tender and soft helped calm his racing heart beat. He accepted the tissue, drying his eyes, overcome with embarrassment at being seen crying of all things - he’d only ever cried in front of Ecto and his family back in the country. “Let’s head back inside” Ecto stood and began to guide Higari back towards the building “No point in staying out in the cold”

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

An hour had passed, Higari was now a little calmer.

He currently sat in the buildings parking lot, having some air, he needed to have a moment to himself to calm down and gather his thoughts. He felt ashamed, feeling to need to walk out of the party to properly calm down. Ecto and his mother had both been understanding aside from their worry, offering to come and keep him company - which he’d politely declined.

And though quite it was around him in the car park, his mind was screaming.

The mans words refused to leave him, and he hated it. He hated how right he was! he hated how out of place he felt just being near a place so fancy and posh, he hated how that small self conscious part of him constantly felt the need to prove his worth when around Ecto’s family, to prove he was more then just some..grungy looking engineer

“Higari?”

Higari pulled his head from his hands and peered up to the side “..Mister Kurōn?” Mr Kurōn walked over to him but kept some space between them for Higari’s sake “I’m sorry, would you mind if I had a word?” He asked, pointing to the space on the edge of the pathway Higari was sitting on. Higari blinked “Uh, sure?” He said

Smiling Mr Kurōn took a place on the floor next to him, arms propped up behind him as he peered up into the sky, as if looking for stars. Higari gave him a sideways glance, before slowly looking away, tensing up, he really hoped he hadn’t come to talk about what had happened

“...How..” Higari nervously cracked his fingers, an old habit he’d developed since he was at UA. He didn’t want to talk about what had happened, but there was one thing he wanted to know “...How much did you hear?..”

“...Enough..”

Higari chewed his gum, all of sudden very interested in the floor as he avoided making eye contact with the older man.

“Higari?” Mr Kurōn was the first to break the silence, finally turning to Higari “May I ask you a..personal question?” He asked, watching Higari’s reaction carefully to make sure he didn’t step on a nerve. Higari turned to him, raising a brow “...Okay?” He said, slightly unsure

Mr Kurōn hummed, looking away again “...I don’t think there’s any way I can put this lightly” he admitted, Higari felt nervous at that. Mr Kurōn turned back to Higari and narrowed his eyes just a tiny bit, trying to read Higari as though he was a book. Higari felt his shoulders tense, after what had happened he’d been put off curious or studying gazes, and probably would be put of them for a while-

“Are you scared of me?”

Higari’s brain buffered, not quite understanding the question at first. Mr Kurōn said nothing, not removing his eyes from Higari as he waited for an answer. “.....Uh, well-“ Higari scratched at his neck “I don’t think- I...I wouldn’t say scared..” Higari admitted quietly, hand moving to tug at some strands of hair “I just..Uh..Well, I wanna make sure I don’t..” Higari’s tone became close to a mumble, yet Mr Kurōn continued to be patient “I just...really don’t want you two to be disappointed, I guess. I mean-..I don’t know the first thing about all...this” he gestured to his suit “I can’t make heads or tails or fancy of cocktails or caviar! A work bench and tools, a construction sight and mapping out underground tunnels, machine parts and dirty oil rags- those things I get!”

Higari had only opened up his worries about Ecto’s parents to Ecto himself, but before he knew was what happening, his worries where spilling from his mouth before he could stop them.

“And when I found you’d sent me an invite to this event too, I was...I didn’t want you to be..” Higari looked ashamed to even finish his sentence, and sheepishly turned his head away from Mr Kurōn to try and hide from his gaze “E-Embarressed by me..what that guy, Uh, Zeikin said. I..I hate to admit it but, most of what he said, ‘bout me being...insecure...most of it, held..some truth”

After he was finished there was a lengthy silence, then Mr Kurōn hummed, Higari tugged harder at his hair “.....Ekuto, he always tells us how happy you make him” he smiled, peering off at nothing before he smiled down at Higari “In school, at UA, I don’t think he had many friends” he said, shrugging “He didn’t really talk about it much with me and his mother, he always assured he had friends but, never wanted them round....Then you came along!” His smile widened, the light seeming to come back to his face “You where the first person from school that seemed to have changed him for the better! He was always so happy when he came back from school each day, after spending it with the mysterious friend he had”

Another pause

“...Do you make Ekuto happy?” He asked, looking to Higari.

Higari wasn’t sure if this was a trick question, so answered with a nervous “I...I like to think I do”

“You think?” Mr Kurōn titled his head “Or you know?”

“....I know” Higari said “...I really want to make Ecto happy, I try to keep him happy!”

Mr Kurōn seemed pleased with that answer “Then why would we want you to be some else?” He asked, leaning forward.

Higari’s eyes widened, his eyes darting up to him to see if what he had said was genuine. Mr Kurōn held nothing but honesty on his face, no trace of a facade or act anywhere, just..a genuine smile

he rose his brow at Higari, as if his thought on the matter should have been obvious.

“..I-I..” Higari tripped over his words, stuttering like a fool “I-I-..I-Uh..T-That’s-“

“You have nothing to prove Higari” Mr Kurōn insisted, saying the words he knew Higari needed to hear - and probably wanted to hear for a long time. He placed his hand on Higari’s shoulder, giving him a friendly shake “You are very easily likeable!”

If Higari’s eyes had been wide before, now they had shot open to the size of plates. Turquoise pupils staring at Mr Kurōn in shock, mouth hung open in a small o shape, causing Mr Kurōn to chuckle a little. Higari’s mouth snapped shut, realising he must have been gawking in his surprise. “Uhm-that’s-“ Higari turned away, feeling embarrassed, praying it wasn’t as obvious as if felt “T-Thank you..”

“You’re welcome”

Me Kurōn stood to his feet, stretching his arms out above his head before they flopped to his side, hands resting in his pockets “Hm..I think I’ve had enough of parties for one evening” He stated, looking down to Higari who craned his neck just to peer up at him. “Why don’t we all go out, get some proper food - my treat!” He said “...It’s the least I could do to make up for what happened. I can assure you, Zeikin will not be hosting business with us any time soon”

He offered out a hand “Come on, let’s not hang around in the cold. Besides-“ he looked back in the direction of the building “Ecto is starting to get worried, I’m sure you know at this point how he can be when worried”

....Higari chuckled, letting Mr Kurōn help pull him to his feet “Yeah” he said with a nod “He can be a bit of a worry wort” he admitted with a laugh, Mr Kurōn joining in lightly.

One meal later and drinks down at a small pub and Higari was feeling more like himself, the way he’d always tense up when Ecto’s parents so much as looked his way vanished entirely, for the whole evening he seemed to forget all about trying to uphold a certain image in front of them. He’d had a drink, he’d ordered what he wanted, he’d taken off his bow and untucked his shirt - and he’d had fun!

He and Ecto returned to the hotel room, and flopped back tiredly onto the hotel bed in sync “Well..” Ecto said, eyes on the ceiling “That was...something” he said. Higari hummed, eyes closed behind his frazzled hair, he’d given up trying to keep it neat once they’d all gone out for food. Shyly, Ecto peered down to his partner, nagging guilt knawing at his consciousness “Higari I...I’m so sorry about what ha-“

He was silenced when Higari had lazily shuffled his way up the bed and smashed a kiss confidently to Ecto’s lips. Half of Ecto’s next words where muffled into the kiss, body jolting on the bed before he kissed back. Higari pulled away, leaving Ecto wide eyed, red faced and panting

“Ecto...” Higari let himself become comfy on top of Ecto’s chest, nuzzling his nose into the crook of his neck as he let out a sigh “I’m fine, really” he said “You don’t have to worry about me all the time..” he reassured, still half sprawled ontop of him while Ecto peered to him “B-But-“

Higari gently pressed a finger to Ecto’s mouth “Shhhh..” he gently shushed him, his eyelids feeling heavy as his body registered how tired he was from the night out “We’re good Ecto, I’m good, you’re parents are good..” he slowly slid off Ecto’s chest, curling up into his side like a puppy, his body unconsciously seeking out Ecto’s warmth “In fact, despite what happened..” Higari smiled up at his boyfriend “...I really enjoyed tonight!”

Ecto blinked, not used to seeing Higari act so soft, but a tender smile soon took its place on his face “...I’m glad” his hand moved to Higari’s hair, sweeping aside his fringe to peer down into Higari’s half lidded sleepy eyes. He pressed another one of his kisses to Higari’s cheek, his heart jumping in his chest at the giggle Higari let out

He pressed another kiss to Higari’s other cheek, Higari let out a snicker.

Ecto pressed one of his kisses to Higari’s nose, Higari bit his lip to try and stifle his laughter.

Ecto then moved to Higari’s neck, where he knew he was terribly sensitive. So when he nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck, Higari let out an honest god squeal from shock - Ecto could hardly contain himself as he chuckled, before counting his nuzzling assault on his small husband who cackled and tried to escape Ecto’s death trap hug “Ectooo!~”

Maybe people like Zeikin would have his opinions, no questions there: but you know what, if Ecto and his parents loved him the way he was

Why should he care anyway??

#im so excited to post this #This was so much fun to write! #Also had a tone of fun writing the scenes at the start and end with Higari and Ecto #im soft for these two they’re adorable! ❤️ #ectoloader #powerloader #ectoplasm #mha

[mldrgrl]

Lately I've been all about reconciliation. For some reason, I want all the Mulder-and-Bill-Scully-finding-some-peace fic I can get. I'd love to see your take on this, maybe in the IWTB era? Or even revival era.

One Sorry Sonofabitch

By: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: See above - but be advised Mulder and Scully aren’t in this story a whole lot.  Please send all complaints to @perplexistan and I’ll be filing a lawsuit shortly for pain and suffering for having to turn Bill Scully into a sympathetic character. (Set post-IWtB)

He holds his tongue to spare his mother what he really thinks when she tells him that Dana and Mr. Mulder will be joining them for Thanksgiving this year.  He can’t believe the audacity that man has to show up at a family event.  And his sister isn’t much better for what she’s put their mother through over the years.  He can’t even remember the last time he saw her.  He thinks it might be ten years ago, just before his second son, Michael, was born.  Tara squeezes his knee under the table and he musters up a smile and a brief nod.

Now that he’s stationed in North Carolina, it’s a lot easier for him to travel with his family instead of having his mother fly out for the holidays.  It’s their first Thanksgiving on the east coast and he’s annoyed at having the happy occasion intruded upon by his selfish sister and her ne’er do well friend.  He really can’t believe she still keeps that jackass around.

He loves his sister.  He truly does.  He just can’t understand the foolish choices she’s made.  Starting with joining the FBI, but giving away her child and going on the run with her fugitive partner instead of putting her patriotic duty to uphold the law as her priority is just beyond him.  He would never.  He had hoped that whatever spell Mr. Mulder had put on her would’ve worn off by now, but alas.  And now they’re coming to Thanksgiving.

Tara gives him a look when they hear the car pull up.  One that implores him to please behave.  His wife has no business being so compassionate, but that’s just the kind of person she is.  He hasn’t forgotten how his sister nearly ruined the Christmas that Matthew was born with that strange little girl and her impossible claim to her.  It should have been a time of great joy and instead Dana had made it sorrowful and awkward.

“Fox and Dana just drove up,” his mother says, coming out of the kitchen and wiping her hands on a dish rag.

His sons jump up from the game they’re playing in the family room, excited to meet their mythical aunt they’ve heard tales about.  

“Don’t run in the house,” he barks at the kids.

“Yes Sir,” they say, stopping short and taking slower steps to reach the door.

Tara is the one that greets them and his mother is just behind her.  Bill is the last one to the door and waits for the hugs and excited chatter to die down before he gives his sister a stiff embrace and Mr. Mulder a requisite handshake.

“Mr. Mulder,” Bill says.

“Just Mulder,” Mr. Mulder says.

“Matthew had a growth spurt this year,” Tara prattles, laying a hand on their son’s shoulder.  He’s taller than her by an inch, thin and reedy.  “As you can see.  Can you believe he’ll be thirteen next month!?  And we’ve got Michael turning ten in February.”

Matthew’s cheeks darken.  He embarrasses easily and his fair skin gets blotchy at the drop of a hat.  Both his boys are soft, like their mother.  He’d like to toughen them up, but Tara is fiercely protective of them.  A regular mother lion.  He doesn’t get it.  When he was a kid, he idolized his father.  Those few weeks or months a year when his dad came home were the best.  He was interested in everything his father did and how he did it.  His sons don’t express any interest in him and he barely hears more than a ‘yes, sir’ or a ‘no, sir’ out of them on a good day.

“Maureen is napping,” Tara says.  “You’ll meet her later.”

His daughter, Maureen, well she’s a different story.  She’s only a toddler, but she reminds him of his sister Melissa.  She’s headstrong and unafraid, particularly when it comes to her father.  She sasses.  She rolls her eyes already.  She ignores his orders and does what she wants when she wants.  She’s also cute as a button and has her brothers wrapped around their little fingers.  Tara calls her their little threenager.

“We’ve still got time before dinner,” his mother says.  “Why don’t we head to the family room.”

“We brought pies,” Dana says.

“I’ll get them,” Mr. Mulder says.  He has his hands on Dana’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze when she looks back up at him.  They seem to hold some silent conversation.  To Bill, it looks like his sister is begging her friend to please don’t leave him alone in this house.  He doesn’t know why she’s here.

They gather in the family room and make small talk.  Tara finds the scrapbooks she puts together for his mother every year and shows off all the photos of the kids from their school activities and family vacations.  Dana nods and smiles through most of it.  Mr. Mulder is more talkative and asks all the questions.

A half hour slips by and finally he hears a cry from upstairs indicating that his daughter is up from her nap.  Tara is on her feet in an instant.

“That’ll be the little princess,” Tara says.  “I’ll go grab her and get her ready to come down.”

“I’ll help you,” Bill says.  Tara looks at him strangely as he follows.

Maureen is jumping up and down in the playpen in their room when they walk in.  She smiles brightly and holds her arms up to Tara.

“How’s my girl,” Tara coos.  “Let’s get you into the dress Grandma bought you for dinner and then you can meet your Auntie Dana and Uncle Fox.”

“Don’t call him that,” Bill says.

“Oh, Bill.”  Tara sighs and stands Maureen on the bed to start undressing her.  “You’re going to have to accept him sometime.”

“I most certainly don’t.”

“You know, one of the things I loved the most about you when we were dating was that you always said that family was very important to you.”

“It still is.  You know that.”

“I’m just saying that sometimes your actions don’t say a lot about what I know is in your heart.  Will you grab me one of the Pull-Ups from her bag?”

“I’ve been cordial.  Hell, I shook his hand.”

“Hell is a bad word,” Maureen says.  She scrunches her face and shakes her head as Tara tries to pull her red curls into a ponytail.  “No hair up, Mama.”

“Listen to your mother, Maureen.”

“No.”

“Hair up or it’ll get washed tonight in the bath,” Tara bargains.

“Okay, hair up.”

“She’s the one that abandoned everything, you know.  Not giving a damn about how it would affect our mother.  Tara, she gave her own child away for that man.”

“Damn damn damn!” Maureen shouts, jumping up and down on the bed.

Tara gives Bill a weary look.  “William Scully Junior, you know better than to use that kind of language.”

Maureen laughs and bounces.  “Daddy in trouble.  Daddy in trouble.”

“Yes, Daddy was being very naughty.  And so are you.  Get down.”  Tara holds her hands out and helps Maureen off the bed.  “Billy, Dana had her reasons, I’m sure.  Have you ever even asked her what happened back then?”

“No.  Why do you always take the other side of the argument?”

“I don’t know, Billy, why do you like to argue so much?”  She smiles and pats him on the chest as she leads Maureen past him out the door.  “I’m just putting myself in her shoes and I know that if I were to have to do what she did, there would have to be a very good reason.  You saw how attached to she was to that little Emily and how devastated she was.  Think about that.”

“Hmph.”

Downstairs, his mother oohs and aahs over Maureen’s green velvet dress and Maureen twirls appropriately, delighted to be the center of attention.  His sister smiles warmly and kneels down to introduce herself to her niece and tell her how big she is and how pretty.

“Thank you, I know,” Maureen says.

The women laugh.

“Where are the boys?” Bill asks.  “And Mr. Mulder?”

“Outside playing basketball,” his mother answers.

Basketball.  They should be playing a real sport like football.  The last time he’d tried to teach them how to punt and tackle it had ended in tears.  Matthew complained that the roughness might hurt his chances of moving up in his piano lessons and Michael said he preferred to work on his model cars.

Bill lingers in the mudroom, watching surreptitiously and listening to boys play with Mr. Mulder through the open window.  There are a lot of high fives and hair tousling.  They don’t even seem to be competing, just taking turns with the ball, which seems a little ridiculous.

“Good job, Matt,” Mr. Mulder says, even when Matthew misses a shot that should have been easy.  “Loosen that wrist and hold that follow-through.”  He takes the boys’ hand and guides it with his own.  “That’s it.  Let’s try it again.”

Matthew shoots again and they all cheer when the ball makes it in the basket.

“Nice!” Mr. Mulder yells.  “Nothing but net.”

Both boys whoop and laugh and jump up and down like monkeys and grab onto Mr. Mulder.  He laughs with them and they have another round of high fives and hair tousling.

“How do you know so much about basketball, Uncle Mulder?” Michael asks.  Bill cringes.

“I played in high school and I used to be part of a team at my gym.”

“Did you like being part of a team?”  Matthew asks.

“Yeah, it was great.”

“I think I want to join the debate team at school next year.”  This is news to Bill and he’s surprised.  Matthew is notoriously soft-spoken.

“Your Aunt Dana used to be on a debate team when she was in school.  You should ask her for some tips.”

“Dad said that you guys used to be FBI agents,” Michael says.  “He said it’s like being a glory fried policeman”

“Glorified,” Matthew corrects.  “Not glory fried.”

“Glorified, whatever that means.  He told Mom before that Aunt Dana should’ve kept being a doctor so she’d be more normal.”

Bill grits his teeth.  He doesn’t recall ever saying something like that in front of the boys, but he’s sure he’s said it.  He wonders what else they’ve overheard through the years.

“Well, that’s probably true,” Mr. Mulder says.  “She’s a great doctor.  But, you know what?  Your Aunt Dana was the best agent the FBI ever had.”

“How come she quit?” Matthew asks.

“Have you ever done something that made you really happy for awhile and then it just stopped making you happy?”

“I used to like playing MarioKart,” Michael says.  “But, now I think it’s boring.”

“It’s kind of like that.”

“My favorite is SimCity.  Have you ever played that?”

“No, I can’t say I have.”

“Do you like Guitar Hero?” Matthew asks.  

“Yeah, do you like Guitar Hero?” Michael echoes.  “We brought our Playstation and we can play.”

“I’m not much of a musician,” Mr. Mulder says.  “But I’ll give it a shot.”

“Cool!” Both boys yell.

Bill chooses that moment to emerge from the mudroom and steps out onto the porch.  Both boys go instantly quiet and Michael starts dribbling the basketball he’s holding.

“You boys should run and get your jackets on,” Bill says.  “It’s getting cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Michael replies.

“Yes, Sir,” Matthew answers and takes Michael’s arm.  “Thanks for the lessons, Uncle Mulder.”

“You can keep playing,” Bill says.  “I just think you need to get your jackets on.”

“That’s alright, we’ll go help Mom and Grandma in the kitchen.  Come on, Mikey.”

Michael reluctantly hands the basketball over to Mr. Mulder.  “Thanks, Uncle Mulder,” he says.

Mr. Mulder nods and then it’s just him and Bill outside.  Mr. Mulder turns and dribbles the ball a few times before he sinks a basket.  He picks it up again and holds it one-handed in Bill’s direction.

“You play?” Mr. Mulder asks.

“I’m more of a football guy,” Bill answers.

“USNA is on a great streak in the Army v Navy games.  Think they can keep it up?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a Navy man if I thought otherwise.”

“Were you on the team?”

“No.  We won all four years I was there though.  Tied one year, actually.”

“I think Scully mentioned that you dad had played one year.”

Bill can’t believe Mr. Mulder is still calling his sister, Scully.  It makes no goddamn sense.  “1957,” he answers.  “14-0, Navy.”

Mr. Mulder nods.  The conversation stalls.  Mr. Mulder rubs the back of his head for a few moments and then he looks at the door and straightens.  Bill turns and sees his sister in the window.  She comes outside, pulling her sweater tighter across her waist and crossing her arms as she steps off the porch.

“Mom says there’s about an hour left until the turkey is ready,” she says.  “Everything alright?”

“Talking sports,” Mr. Mulder says.  Dana stands close to him.  He puts a hand on her back.

“It’s good to see you, Dana.”

“You too, Bill.”

The three of them stand in awkward silence.  A wind picks up and blows dead leaves across their feet.  Bill shoves his hands in his pockets.  Dana turns to Mr. Mulder and lays a hand very lightly on his chest.

“Can you give us a minute?” Dana asks.

“Of course,” Mr. Mulder answers.  He kisses the corner of Dana’s mouth and Bill’s cheek twitches irritably.  He spins the basketball on one finger as he walks away and then tucks it snugly into the corner of the porch before he goes inside.

“I can tell you don’t want us here,” Dana says.  Straight to the point.  His sister has never been subtle.

“I think it’s you that doesn’t want to be here.  You know, every holiday Mom would always bring up the fact that it would be so nice to have all her children at the table.  I have to say I agree with her.”

Dana stares at him with a cool gaze.  “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

“No, I’m just telling you how it’s been.”

“All her children?”

“Alright, we don’t need to fight.”

“I’m not fighting.  I’m just wondering if she includes Charlie in that, when she yearns for all her children.”

Bill shifts uncomfortably.  “That’s between them.  Charles is…”

“Charlie is married.  His husband’s name is-”

“Patrick.  I know.  I do speak with him on occasion.”

Dana gives a brief nod.  “Were they invited to Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry that we didn’t turn out how you wanted.”

“What does that mean?”

“You always wanted to follow in our parents footsteps.  Be just like Dad.  Have the doting wife, the Navy career, a house full of kids.  Everything in ship-shape order.  They made it look ideal when we were kids, but it was never ideal.”

“What kind of nonsense has that man been filling your head with?”

Dana snorts.  “The irony is, Mulder is a lot like you, Bill.  He values the sanctity of family even more than you.”

“Oh yeah, so much so he forced you to give up your only child.”

“Mulder wasn’t even there when I had to give William up.”

“Exactly.  Where was he?  Not with his family.  You can be sure I would-”

“You would, what?  Step away from the Navy?  Reject a deployment order?  What would you do, Bill?”

“It’s my job,” he says, curtly.  “It’s what I do to make sure not just my family, but every family in our country is protected.  Tara understood that when she married me.  The kids understand.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Do you know what losing her grandchild did to Mom?  Dad’s namesake, Dana.  My namesake.  How could you?”

“You sanctimonious sonofabitch,” she hisses.  “My son’s name is William Fox Mulder.  Named after Mulder’s father.  Not you, and not Dad.  And you have no idea how difficult it was for me to make that choice.  None at all.”

“Then why did you do it?  If it was so goddamn hard, why isn’t he here with us now playing with his cousins instead of with strangers?”

Dana looks away and licks the corner of her mouth.  She used to do that when she was a kid before letting loose with a temper tantrum.  He remembers her red-faced and stomping her feet, licking her lip before she exploded.

“Did you know that my life was in danger for all of my pregnancy?” she asks.  “Did you know William was kidnapped twice before he was eight months old?  Did you know that I had friends that were almost killed trying to protect him?  Did you know that I killed people in order to protect him?  Did you know that I made the biggest mistake in my life when I asked Mulder to leave us because I thought he was the one endangering our son?  Did you know that my heart felt like it was ripped out of my chest when I thought I had lost both of them forever?  Do you know that it took years for me to trust in the fact that Mulder forgave me for what I did?”

Bill feels uncomfortable and clammy.  He’s never seen his sister like this, as a child or as an adult.  She’s like fire.  Hot and terrifying.

“No,” he says.  “How could I?  Why didn’t you come to me?”

Dana raises her brow at him like he’s said something completely incredulous.  “We’re family, Bill, not friends.”

“Do you even have any friend, Dana?  Aside from Mr. Mulder?”

“I don’t need or want anyone else in my life except for Mulder.”

“Including your family?”

“Mulder is my family.  A fact I don’t ever think you’ll accept.”

“That man has poisoned you against your family.”

“That man is the reason I’m here today.  You’re right.  It is me that doesn’t want to be here.”  She turns and walks away.

“Dana.”

She doesn’t turn back though, just walks up the porch and into the house and Bill is left alone.  He doesn’t understand how he could have grown up in the same house as each of his siblings, but how they all turned out so different.  He seems to be the only one that appreciates the values his parents instilled in them and not blatantly reject the status quo.  

When Bill comes back into the house, he sees Dana and Mr. Mulder in the dining room, having a very low and animated conversation.  Her hands are in his and his head is bent towards her.  She’s shaking her head and pulling one of her arms free to gesticulate with, but he catches it and clasps their hands gently to his chest.

Bill turns away and heads back to the family room.  The boys are on the floor with Maureen, helping her arrange her dolls to her satisfaction.  Tara and his mother are on the couch in conversation.  He sits down, feeling glum and perturbed.  Dana comes into the room, Mr. Mulder behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m not feeling very well,” she says.  “Mulder is going to take me home.”

Tara glances at Bill and he shifts his gaze away from her.  

“What is it?” his mother asks.  “Do you need to lie down?  You can use the spare room.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to disrupt dinner.  I think I have a migraine coming on and I have medication at home.”

“But, Dana, it’s been so long since we’ve all been together.  Can’t you just…”

“Let Dana do what she wants to do, Mom,” Bill says.  “If she wants to go home, let her go home.”

His mother wrings her hands together.  He can’t stand the disappointment in her eyes and he doesn’t know how Dana can either.  The hugs goodbye are awkward.  The kids are confused.  

“Uncle Mulder was supposed to play Guitar Hero with us,” Michael says, after they leave.

“Some other time,” Tara tells him.  “Go wash up for dinner.”

Dinner is somber.  His mother looks like she’s on the verge of tears.  Tara tries to compensate by engaging the children in conversation, but the boys unhappily push food around on their plates and Maureen whines to be let loose.  Before they’re even done, his mother starts gathering up the dishes and bringing them into the kitchen.

“What happened?” Tara mouths at him from across the table.

Bill shrugs.  “Mom, stop.  Tara and I will take care of the dishes.  Boys, take your sister and...show your grandmother that guitar game.”

The boys looked relieved.  Matthew takes Maureen’s hand and they head to the family room.  After the leave, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall sounds immense in the silence.

“Bill…”

Bill raises his hands in surrender.  “Dana and I had a talk,” he admits.  “It didn’t go well.”

“Is that why she left?”

“She left because she didn’t want to show up at all.”

“This really meant a lot to Mom.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe the only thing you can do is just accept the fact that this is all there is.”  Tara gets up, collecting dishes before she makes her way to the kitchen.  It takes Bill some time to follow, but he gathers up plates and silverware and goes in after her.  She’s got Tupperware spread out on the counter and is trying to match lids.

“I don’t want to accept it, Tara.  I can’t.  She’s my sister.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He scratches the back of his head and thinks, watching Tara empty dishes into plastic bowls.  “Pack me up enough of those leftovers for two.  I’m...going to go out there.”

“You should take the boys with you.”

“Why?”

“It’s unlikely they’d turn the kids away.”

That hurts because it’s probably true.  He finishes clearing the dishes for Tara and she neatly packs up leftovers and stacks them on the counter.  He grabs a sweatshirt and then goes into the family room.  The boys aren’t playing the video game, they look like they’re playing Go Fish with their grandmother and sister.

“Boys, we’re going to take a drive.”

They look at each other and then look at their father.  “Are we in trouble?” Michael asks.

“No, son.  We’re just going to take a drive.”

He can tell they’re reluctant to get up, but they do.  Tara brings them their jackets and loads their arms with the Tupperware and walks them to the car.

“Where are we going?” Matthew asks, buckling his seatbelt.

“We’re going to go see your Aunt Dana and...Uncle Mulder.”

“Really?” Michael asks.

It’s an hour-long drive.  Bill can’t think of a time he’s been alone in a car with his sons for that long.  They don’t talk and the radio isn’t offering anything decent.

“You know, Matthew, your Aunt Dana was there when you were born?”

“She was?”

“She and your grandma had come out for Christmas that year.  They visited you in the hospital and you were only a few hours old.  And...your...Uncle Mulder was there too.”  Bill shifts a little in his seat and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel.  He was a little disgruntled at the time that Mr. Mulder had shown up with Dana at the hospital, but even more so when Tara insisted he have a chance to hold the baby.  He knows photos were taken that day, but he’s never seen them.

“Did Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder visit me too, Dad?” Michael asks.

“No, they were...they weren’t in town at that time.”

“Oh.”

“Have I ever told you the story of when your Aunt Dana won a shooting contest when she was eight?”

“Um, I don’t think we know any stories about Aunt Dana,” Matthew answers.  “Except a couple Grandma has told us.”

“I see.”  

“I want to hear it,” Michael says.  “I want to know the story.”

“Me too,” Matthew adds.

“She learned to shoot pretty young.  My Dad had taught us.  She was the best out of all of us, even Dad.  She just never missed.  Some kids in the neighborhood caught wind of it and said there was no way a little girl could beat them.  They were older than us, maybe your age, Matthew.  Dana said she could beat the pants off of them, just come out to the woods and name the target.  She whipped those boys good.  Six older boys against one little girl.”

“Did she win a prize?” Michael asks.

Bill thinks back on that day.  He’d felt a mixture of pride and anger.  He wanted Dana to win, but he also looked up to those boys.  Their pride had been injured and therefore he’d tried to convince Dana to throw the competition at one point, pulling her aside and telling her she was hurting their feelings and should let them win.  She looked him straight in the eye and told him no way in hell would she lose to a stupid boy just ‘cause.  He’d been afraid the boys would retaliate in some way, maybe hurt Dana or even start a fight with him, but they hadn’t.

“Respect,” Bill says.  “She won a lot of respect.”

“Sounds like something Maureen would do,” Matthew says.  He and Michael chuckle together.

“Maureen is more like your Aunt Melissa.  Dana was a real tomboy.  She had to do everything me and your Uncle Charles did.”

“How come…?” Matthew starts, and then clams up.

“How come what?”

“I know Aunt Melissa died a long time ago.  But, how come we’ve never met Aunt Dana before now?  Or Uncle Charles?”

“Is it because Uncle Charles married another boy?” Michael asks.

“Who told you that?” Bill asks.

“Mom said that’s why Grandma doesn’t like to talk about him and we should try to understand that Grandma comes from another time where that wasn’t ok, but that doesn’t mean it’s not ok.”

“She said that?”

“Mmhm.  She said that if anyone at church or other kids say it’s not ok, we just don’t listen to them because God doesn’t make mistakes and love is love and God wants us to love each other.”

Bill is quiet.  He can’t believe his devout and traditional wife has said something so progressive and even went so far as to instruct his children to go against the church.  Good for her, he thinks.  Maybe if his mother had thought for herself once in awhile they wouldn’t have such a fractured family.  He can’t believe that thought just crosses his mind.

“You boys listen to your mother,” Bill says.  “She’s a good woman and I’m glad you’re both more like her than like me.”

“You’re good too, Dad,” Matthew says.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, you do a really hard job and it’s important and you’re in charge of it.”

“And Mom says that’s why we shouldn’t bother you with trivial things,” Michael says.  “So you can relax when you’re home.”

Bill is quiet for a few moments and he glances at both boys in the rear view mirror.  “I want you boys to know that you’re never a bother to me.  Not ever, alright?  You can come to me with anything.  You understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” they both say.

“And to answer your question, you haven’t met your Aunt Dana or Uncle Charles before because I think...I think it’s hard for them to feel welcome.  That’s why I’m taking you out to Dana and Mulder’s house right now so I can make sure they know they’re welcome.”

“Will we get to meet Uncle Charles one day, too?” Michael asks.

“I promise that when we get home I’ll call him and ask him if he wants to come for a visit.”

“Cool,” Matthew says.  “Three new uncles and an aunt.”

The roads start to become more rural and desolate.  It’s only twilight, but it feels even darker without any streetlamps or other passing cars.  Bill turns off onto a dirt road and slowly bumps along the unpaved path.

“I think this is it,” Bill says, pulling up to a gate.

“Do they live on a farm?” Michael asks.  “It looks like a farm.”

“I don’t think so.”

Bill is about to call Dana’s phone when he sees Mr. Mulder step out onto the porch, holding what looks like a long-barreled shotgun.  He turns on the cab light of the car and then lowers the window and leans out, raising a hand in greeting.  Mr. Mulder looks like he’s squinting and then he goes back inside and turns on the porch light.  When he comes back out, he’s no longer holding the gun and he jogs down from the porch and down the path behind the gate.  Bill sees his sister come out onto the porch a few moments later.

“Bill?” Mr. Mulder asks once he’s close enough to be heard.  “What’re you doing out here?  Everything alright?”

“The boys and I brought leftovers,” Bill says.

“Uh.  Okay.  Let me just unlock the gate, just a second.”  Mr. Mulder begins to unlock some chains around the gate.  “Scully’s been nagging me to put this on a remote, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.  Drive on up, I’ll be right behind you.”

Bill drives slowly down the lane and Mr. Mulder stays in the shadow of his taillight.  He parks behind the car in front of the porch and the boys are quick to unlock their belts and scramble out of the car.

“Is this a farm?” Michael asks, running up to Mr. Mulder and taking his hand.  “Do you have cows?”

“Sorry, buddy, no cows,” Mr. Mulder answers.  “I think there might have been horses here at one time.  There are some stalls out in the field behind the house.”

Bill gathers the Tupperware from the floorboards of the passenger seat and Matthew is right behind him to help him get everything out.  Dana stands on the porch in a defensive pose, guarding her territory.

“Come in,” Mr. Mulder says.  He guides Michael up the stairs ahead of him.  Dana gives Mr. Mulder a look, but then smiles at Michael.  Tara was a genius to tell him to take the boys.

The interior surprises Bill.  It’s cozy, almost cabin-like.  There are afghans on the couch and a well-used recliner.  They’ve got a wood burning stove and a fire going.  His sister is wearing slippers.  

Mr. Mulder leads them all to the kitchen and takes the Tupperware from Matthew and from Bill.  “Be sure to thank Maggie for us,” he says.

“I will.”  There’s a few beats of silence and Bill eyes his sister.  “Dana, would you mind if we talked for a few minutes?”

She hesitates and glances at the boys.

“You guys can go on the porch,” Mr. Mulder offers.  “Maybe...these guys might like some ice cream?”

“Can we?” Michael asks, turning to Bill.

Bill nods.  Never in his life did he expect to feel gratitude towards Mr. Mulder for anything, but he does in this moment.  The boys cheer.  Dana doesn’t look happy, but she takes her brother out to the porch.

“I’m not here to fight,” Bill says.  “I just want you to know that up front.”

“Why are you here?” she asks.

“Because I don’t like the way we left things.  I want to start by apologizing for...not giving you the benefit of the doubt.  Or supporting you when you needed it.”

Dana looks surprised and a little chagrined.  Her eyes water a bit.  She wraps her arms across her middle and looks at her feet.  “Thank you,” she says.  “That means a lot.”

“I was telling the boys on the way over about that time you won the shooting contest when you were a kid.”

She snorts softly.  “You were so mad at me.”

“No, I was proud of you.  I didn’t tell you that back then, but I probably should have.  Maybe it’s because of things like that that you felt you couldn’t talk to me when you were going through a hard time.”

“Maybe.”

“What I’m not going to apologize for, though, is my life or my family.”  He pauses while she looks up and opens her mouth, but then she closes it again and nods a little.  “I don’t think I’m wrong for wanting to live in the example our parents set for us.  They were happily married for almost forty years and, God willing, I’d like to make it to my fiftieth anniversary and still be just as happy.”

“You probably will.”

“I think you might too.”

Dana raises her brow.  Bill rubs the back of his neck and exhales, deeply.  

“The kids were telling me earlier that love is love,” he says.  “And, now that I’ve seen the two of you together, I think that he kind of seems like a decent guy.”

“I wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would.”

Dana looks at her feet again and rocks back and forth on her heels for a moment.  “I would also like to apologize for keeping you in the dark about so many things for so long.  I’ve been so accustomed to needing to keep things private, I forget that I can rely on other people.  Mulder has to remind me of it at times when I start to shut him out.”

“You were like that as a kid.  Tough as nails, wouldn’t show a weakness to save your life.”

“And a quick temper.”

“Yeah, that too.”  Bill chuckles.  Dana smiles slightly.

“I’m sorry I left like that.  I hope Mom wasn’t too upset.”

“I think it might be salvaged if you thought about maybe coming by tomorrow?  The boys really seemed to take to...their Uncle Mulder.”

“He’s really great with kids,” Dana whispers and two tears fall down her cheeks.  She dips her head once more and puts a hand over her eyes.

Bill steps closer and pulls her in against his chest.  She puts her arms around him and he rubs her shoulder a little.  “I can’t imagine, Dana.  What you must feel.”

“Some days are harder than others.”

“Does he help you through it?”

“Always.”

“Okay.”

After a few moments of silence, Dana sighs and then pulls away and wipes her eyes.  Bill stops her before they go back inside.

“One more thing,” he says.  “It’s important to me that you know that I don’t agree with Mom on everything.  Just because I believe that her issues with Charles are her business, doesn’t mean I think she’s right.”

“You don’t?”

“Hell no.  That’s her son.  I would never.  The thing is, Charles has told me he chooses to limit his contact with both of us so that it won’t cause problems between us and Mom, if she knows that we speak with him.”

“I know.”

“And, thinking about what you said and just...thinking about it in general, tonight, I’ve decided that if Mom can’t handle the fact that I have a relationship with my brother, that’s also her problem.  I’m going to invite Charles and Patrick out to North Carolina for Christmas.  I want to extend the same invitation to you and Mr. Mulder as well.”

“It’s just Mulder.”

“You guys are so weird about your names.”

“That’s how we like it.”

Bill puts his hands up in surrender.  Dana opens the door and he follows.  The boys are laughing at something.  Mulder gets up from the table when he sees them and Dana walks into his arms.  He rubs her back and nods at Bill.

“Can I get you a bowl of ice cream?” Mulder asks.

“Sure.”

“Dad, did you know that Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder once arrested a man that was half-worm and lived in a sewer?!” Michael exclaims.

“Tried to arrest,” Mulder amends.  “We only caught half of him.  The tail end, unfortunately.”

“Gross!” the boys cry.

“Really, Mulder?” Bill asks.

Mulder shrugs.  Bill sighs.

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #bill scully #I never imagined I would have to get into this dudes head #perplexistan

[aboveallarescuer]

Dany and Viserys’s relationship

This is a list of all the passages from the books featuring key moments in Dany and Viserys’s relationship.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he’d built it himself.

Viserys told her tales of knights so poor that they had to sleep beneath the ancient hedges that grew along the byways of the Seven Kingdoms. Dany would have given much and more for a nice thick hedge. Preferably one without an anthill.

~

She dreamt of her dead brother.

Viserys looked just as he had the last time she’d seen him. His mouth was twisted in anguish, his hair was burnt, and his face was black and smoking where the molten gold had run down across his brow and cheeks and into his eyes.

“You are dead,” Dany said.

Murdered. Though his lips never moved, somehow she could hear his voice, whispering in her ear. You never mourned me, sister. It is hard to die unmourned.

“I loved you once.”

Once, he said, so bitterly it made her shudder. You were supposed to be my wife, to bear me children with silver hair and purple eyes, to keep the blood of the dragon pure. I took care of you. I taught you who you were. I fed you. I sold our mother’s crown to keep you fed.

“You hurt me. You frightened me.”

Only when you woke the dragon. I loved you. “You sold me. You betrayed me.”

No. You were the betrayer. You turned against me, against your own blood. They cheated me. Your horsey husband and his stinking savages. They were cheats and liars. They promised me a golden crown and gave me this. He touched the molten gold that was creeping down his face, and smoke rose from his finger.

“You could have had your crown,” Dany told him. “My sun-and-stars would have won it for you if only you had waited.”

I waited long enough. I waited my whole life. I was their king, their rightful king. They laughed at me.

“You should have stayed in Pentos with Magister Illyrio. Khal Drogo had to present me to the dosh khaleen, but you did not have to ride with us. That was your choice. Your mistake.”

Do you want to wake the dragon, you stupid little whore? Drogo’s khalasar was mine. I bought them from him, a hundred thousand screamers. I paid for them with your maidenhead.

“You never understood. Dothraki do not buy and sell. They give gifts and receive them. If you had waited ...”

I did wait. For my crown, for my throne, for you. All those years, and all I ever got was a pot of molten gold. Why did they give the dragon’s eggs to you? They should have been mine. If I’d had a dragon, I would have taught the world the meaning of our words.

Viserys began to laugh, until his jaw fell away from his face, smoking, and blood and molten gold ran from his mouth.

ADWD Daenerys VIII

“You … you mean to ride them?”

“One of them. All I know of dragons is what my brother told me when I was a girl, and some I read in books, but it is said that even Aegon the Conqueror never dared mount Vhagar or Meraxes, nor did his sisters ride Balerion the Black Dread. Dragons live longer than men, some for hundreds of years, so Balerion had other riders after Aegon died … but no rider ever flew two dragons.”

~

“Tell me of this other Daenerys. I know less than I should of the history of my father’s kingdom. I never had a maester growing up.” Only a brother.

ADWD Daenerys VII

The parchment was written in the Common Tongue. The queen unrolled it slowly, studying the seals and signatures. When she saw the name Ser Willem Darry, her heart beat a little faster. She read it over once, and then again.

“May we know what it says, Your Grace?” asked Ser Barristan.

“It is a secret pact,” Dany said, “made in Braavos when I was just a little girl. Ser Willem Darry signed for us, the man who spirited my brother and myself away from Dragonstone before the Usurper’s men could take us. Prince Oberyn Martell signed for Dorne, with the Sealord of Braavos as witness.” She handed the parchment to Ser Barristan, so he might read it for himself. “The alliance is to be sealed by a marriage, it says. In return for Dorne’s help overthrowing the Usurper, my brother Viserys is to take Prince Doran’s daughter Arianne for his queen.”

The old knight read the pact slowly. “If Robert had known of this, he would have smashed Sunspear as he once smashed Pyke, and claimed the heads of Prince Doran and the Red Viper … and like as not, the head of this Dornish princess too.”

“No doubt that was why Prince Doran chose to keep the pact a secret,” suggested Daenerys. “If my brother Viserys had known that he had a Dornish princess waiting for him, he would have crossed to Sunspear as soon as he was old enough to wed.”

“And thereby brought Robert’s warhammer down upon himself, and Dorne as well,” said Frog. “My father was content to wait for the day that Prince Viserys found his army.”

“Your father?”

“Prince Doran.” He sank back onto one knee. “Your Grace, I have the honor to be Quentyn Martell, a prince of Dorne and your most leal subject.”

Dany laughed.

The Dornish prince flushed red, whilst her own court and counselors gave her puzzled looks. “Radiance?” said Skahaz Shavepate, in the Ghiscari tongue. “Why do you laugh?”

“They call him frog,” she said, “and we have just learned why. In the Seven Kingdoms there are children’s tales of frogs who turn into enchanted princes when kissed by their true love.” Smiling at the Dornish knights, she switched back to the Common Tongue. “Tell me, Prince Quentyn, are you enchanted?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“I feared as much.” Neither enchanted nor enchanting, alas. A pity he’s the prince, and not the one with the wide shoulders and the sandy hair. “You have come for a kiss, however. You mean to marry me. Is that the way of it? The gift you bring me is your own sweet self. Instead of Viserys and your sister, you and I must seal this pact if I want Dorne.”

ADWD Daenerys VI

“Your Grace should not be here, breathing these black humors.”

“I am the blood of the dragon,” Dany reminded him. “Have you ever seen a dragon with the flux?” Viserys had oft claimed that Targaryens were untroubled by the pestilences that afflicted common men, and so far as she could tell, it was true. She could remember being cold and hungry and afraid, but never sick.

ADWD Daenerys V

“Will they joust for me? I should like that.” Viserys had told her stories of the tourneys he had witnessed in the Seven Kingdoms, but Dany had never seen a joust herself.

ADWD Daenerys IV

“Have you forgotten who I am?”

“No. Have you?”

Viserys would have his head off for that insolence. “I am the blood of the dragon. Do not presume to teach me lessons.” When Dany stood, the lion pelt slipped from her shoulders and tumbled to the ground. “Leave me.”

ADWD Daenerys III

Her brother Viserys had once feasted the captains of the Golden Company, in hopes they might take up his cause. They ate his food and heard his pleas and laughed at him. Dany had only been a little girl, but she remembered.

~

She turned her back upon the night, to where Barristan Selmy stood silent in the shadows. “My brother once told me a Westerosi riddle. Who listens to everything yet hears nothing?”

“A knight of the Kingsguard.” Selmy’s voice was solemn.

ADWD Daenerys II

Safe. The word made Dany’s eyes fill up with tears. “I want to keep you safe.” Missandei was only a child. With her, she felt as if she could be a child too. “No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died, and Viserys … I want to protect you but … it is so hard. To be strong. I don’t always know what I should do. I must know, though. I am all they have. I am the queen … the … the …”

“… mother,” whispered Missandei.

“Mother to dragons.” Dany shivered.

“No. Mother to us all.” Missandei hugged her tighter. “Your Grace should sleep. Dawn will be here soon, and court.”

“We’ll both sleep, and dream of sweeter days. Close your eyes.” When she did, Dany kissed her eyelids and made her giggle.

Kisses came easier than sleep, however. Dany shut her eyes and tried to think of home, of Dragonstone and King’s Landing and all the other places that Viserys had told her of, in a kinder land than this … but her thoughts kept turning back to Slaver’s Bay, like ships caught in some bitter wind.

~

“...He was a good knight but a bad king, for he had no right to the throne he sat. That was when I knew that to redeem myself I must find the true king, and serve him loyally with all the strength that still remained me.”

“My brother Viserys.”

~

“Have you forgotten Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon?”

“Never. That was Lannister work, Your Grace.”

“Lannister or Stark, what difference? Viserys used to call them the Usurper’s dogs. If a child is set upon by a pack of hounds, does it matter which one tears out his throat? All the dogs are just as guilty. The guilt …” The word caught in her throat. Hazzea, she thought, and suddenly she heard herself say, “I have to see the pit,” in a voice as small as a child’s whisper.

~

Viserys had told her all the tales when she was little. He loved to talk of dragons. She knew how Harrenhal had fallen. She knew about the Field of Fire and the Dance of the Dragons. One of her forebears, the third Aegon, had seen his own mother devoured by his uncle’s dragon. And there were songs beyond count of villages and kingdoms that lived in dread of dragons till some brave dragonslayer rescued them.

ADWD Daenerys I

Five Aegons had ruled the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. There would have been a sixth, but the Usurper’s dogs had murdered her brother’s son when he was still a babe at the breast. If he had lived, I might have married him. Aegon would have been closer to my age than Viserys. Dany had only been conceived when Aegon and his sister were murdered. Their father, her brother Rhaegar, perished even earlier, slain by the Usurper on the Trident. Her brother Viserys had died screaming in Vaes Dothrak with a crown of molten gold upon his head. They will kill me too if I allow it. The knives that slew my Stalwart Shield were meant for me.

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

Westeros had seven gods at least, though Viserys had told her that some septons said the seven were only aspects of a single god, seven facets of a single crystal. That was just confusing. The red priests believed in two gods, she had heard, but two who were eternally at war. Dany liked that even less. She would not want to be eternally at war.

~

“When I sent you down into the sewers, part of me hoped I’d seen the last of you. It seemed a fitting end for liars, to drown in slavers’ filth. I thought the gods would deal with you, but instead you returned to me. My gallant knights of Westeros, an informer and a turncloak. My brother would have hanged you both.” Viserys, would have, anyway. She did not know what Rhaegar would have done.

~

“You protected my father for many years, fought beside my brother on the Trident, but you abandoned Viserys in his exile and bent your knee to the Usurper instead. Why? And tell it true.”

“Some truths are hard to hear. Robert was a ... a good knight ... chivalrous,
brave ... he spared my life, and the lives of many others ... Prince Viserys was only a boy, it would have been years before he was fit to rule, and ... forgive me, my queen, but you asked for truth ... even as a child, your brother Viserys oft seemed to be his father’s son, in ways that Rhaegar never did.”

“His father’s son?” Dany frowned. “What does that mean?”

The old knight did not blink. “Your father is called ‘the Mad King’ in Westeros. Has no one ever told you?”

“Viserys did.” The Mad King. “The Usurper called him that, the Usurper and his dogs.” The Mad King. “It was a lie.”

“Why ask for truth,” Ser Barristan said softly, “if you close your ears to it?”

~

When her handmaid brought the book, Dany had no trouble finding the page where she had left off, but it was no good. She found herself reading the same passage half a dozen times. Ser Jorah gave me this book as a bride’s gift, the day I wed Khal Drogo. But Daario is right, I shouldn’t have banished him. I should have kept him, or I should have killed him. She played at being a queen, yet sometimes she still felt like a scared little girl. Viserys always said what a dolt I was. Was he truly mad? She closed the book. She could still recall Ser Jorah, if she wished. Or send Daario to kill him.

~

“Was my father truly mad?” she blurted out. Why do I ask that? “Viserys said this talk of madness was a ploy of the Usurper’s ...”

“Viserys was a child, and the queen sheltered him as much as she could. Your father always had a little madness in him, I now believe. Yet he was charming and generous as well, so his lapses were forgiven. His reign began with such promise ... but as the years passed, the lapses grew more frequent, until ...”

Dany stopped him. “Do I want to hear this now?”

Ser Barristan considered a moment. “Perhaps not. Not now.”

“Not now,” she agreed. “One day. One day you must tell me all. The good and the bad. There is some good to be said of my father, surely?”

“There is, Your Grace. Of him, and those who came before him. Your grandfather Jaehaerys and his brother, their father Aegon, your mother ... and Rhaegar. Him most of all.”

ASOS Daenerys V

“What if we were to build siege towers? My brother Viserys told tales of such, I know they can be made.”

~

“Why are you here?” Dany demanded of him. “If Robert sent you to kill me, why did you save my life?” He served the Usurper. He betrayed Rhaegar’s memory, and abandoned Viserys to live and die in exile. Yet if he wanted me dead, he need only have stood
aside ...

~

“Your Grace, I am sorry I misled you. It was the only way to keep the Lannisters from learning that I had joined you. You are watched, as your brother was. Lord Varys reported every move Viserys made, for years. Whilst I sat on the small council, I heard a hundred such reports. And since the day you wed Khal Drogo, there has been an informer by your side selling your secrets, trading whispers to the Spider for gold and promises.”

ASOS Daenerys IV

She bulled over him. “You have been a better friend to me than any I have known, a better brother than Viserys ever was. You are the first of my Queensguard, the commander of my army, my most valued counselor, my good right hand. I honor and respect and cherish you—but I do not desire you, Jorah Mormont, and I am weary of your trying to push every other man in the world away from me, so I must needs rely on you and you alone. It will not serve, and it will not make me love you any better.”

~

“Tell me more of my brother Rhaegar, if you would. I liked the tale you told me on the ship, of how he decided that he must be a warrior.”

“Your Grace is kind to say so.”


“Viserys said that our brother won many tourneys.”

~

Dany pulled the lion pelt tighter about her shoulders. “Viserys said once that it was my fault, for being born too late.” She had denied it hotly, she remembered, going so far as to tell Viserys that it was his fault for not being born a girl. He beat her cruelly for that insolence. “If I had been born more timely, he said, Rhaegar would have married me instead of Elia, and it would all have come out different. If Rhaegar had been happy in his wife, he would not have needed the Stark girl.”

“Perhaps so, Your Grace.” Whitebeard paused a moment. “But I am not certain it was in Rhaegar to be happy.”

“You make him sound so sour,” Dany protested.

“Not sour, no, but ... there was a melancholy to Prince Rhaegar, a sense ...” The old man hesitated again.

“Say it,” she urged. “A sense ...?”

“... of doom. He was born in grief, my queen, and that shadow hung over him all his days.”

Viserys had spoken of Rhaegar’s birth only once. Perhaps the tale saddened him too much.

ASOS Daenerys III

“Your pretty crown might buy another century,” said the fat one in Valyrian. “Your crown of the three dragons.”

Dany waited for his words to be translated. “My crown is not for sale.” When Viserys sold their mother’s crown, the last joy had gone from him, leaving only rage.

~

“I was alone for a long time, Jorah. All alone but for my brother. I was such a small scared thing. Viserys should have protected me, but instead he hurt me and scared me worse. He shouldn’t have done that. He wasn’t just my brother, he was my king. Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can’t protect themselves?”

“Some kings make themselves. Robert did.”


“He was no true king,” Dany said scornfully. “He did no justice. Justice ... that’s what kings are for.”

ASOS Daenerys II

“My brother visited Pentos, Myr, Braavos, near all the Free Cities. The magisters and archons fed him wine and promises, but his soul was starved to death. A man cannot sup from the beggar’s bowl all his life and stay a man. I had my taste in Qarth, that was enough. I will not come to Pentos bowl in hand.”

“Better to come a beggar than a slaver,” Arstan said.

“There speaks one who has been neither.” Dany’s nostrils flared. “Do you know what it is like to be sold, squire? I do. My brother sold me to Khal Drogo for the promise of a golden crown. Well, Drogo crowned him in gold, though not as he had wished, and
I ... my sun-and-stars made a queen of me, but if he had been a different man, it might have been much otherwise. Do you think I have forgotten how it felt to be afraid?”

~

Dany shrugged him off. “Viserys would have bought as many Unsullied as he had the coin for. But you once said I was like Rhaegar ...”

“I remember, Daenerys.”

“Your Grace,” she corrected. “Prince Rhaegar led free men into battle, not slaves. Whitebeard said he dubbed his squires himself, and made many other knights as well.”

“There was no higher honor than to receive your knighthood from the Prince of Dragonstone.”

“Tell me, then—when he touched a man on the shoulder with his sword, what did he say? ‘Go forth and kill the weak’? Or ‘Go forth and defend them’? At the Trident, those brave men Viserys spoke of who died beneath our dragon banners—did they give their lives because they believed in Rhaegar’s cause, or because they had been bought and paid for?”

ASOS Daenerys I

Once on a voyage to Braavos, as she’d watched the crew wrestle down a great green sail in a rising gale, she had even thought how fine it would be to be a sailor. But when she told her brother, Viserys had twisted her hair until she cried. “You are blood of the dragon,” he had screamed at her. “A dragon, not some smelly fish.”

He was a fool about that, and so much else, Dany thought. If he had been wiser and more patient, it would be him sailing west to take the throne that was his by rights. Viserys had been stupid and vicious, she had come to realize, yet sometimes she missed him all the same. Not the cruel weak man he had become by the end, but the brother who had sometimes let her creep into his bed, the boy who told her tales of the Seven Kingdoms, and talked of how much better their lives would be once he claimed his crown.

~

“Viserys talked of those skulls,” said Dany. “The Usurper took them down and hid them away. He could not bear them looking down on him upon his stolen throne.”

~

“...Next you’ll claim you squired for him.”

“I make no such claim, ser. Myles Mooton was Prince Rhaegar’s squire, and Richard Lonmouth after him. When they won their spurs, he knighted them himself, and they remained his close companions. Young Lord Connington was dear to the prince as well, but his oldest friend was Arthur Dayne.”

“The Sword of the Morning!” said Dany, delighted. “Viserys used to talk about his wondrous white blade. He said Ser Arthur was the only knight in the realm who was our brother’s peer.”

Whitebeard bowed his head. “It is not my place to question the words of Prince Viserys.”

“King,” Dany corrected. “He was a king, though he never reigned. Viserys, the Third of His Name. But what do you mean?” His answer had not been one that she’d expected. “Ser Jorah named Rhaegar the last dragon once. He had to have been a peerless warrior to be called that, surely?”

~

Dany turned back to the squire. “I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?”

 A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

It was not by choice that she sought the waterfront. She was fleeing again. Her whole life had been one long flight, it seemed. She had begun running in her mother’s womb, and never once stopped. How often had she and Viserys stolen away in the black of night, a bare step ahead of the Usurper’s hired knives? But it was run or die. Xaro had learned that Pyat Pree was gathering the surviving warlocks together to work ill on her.

ACOK Daenerys IV

Viserys, was her first thought the next time she paused, but a second glance told her otherwise. The man had her brother’s hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac.

~

Then phantoms shivered through the murk, images in indigo. Viserys screamed as the molten gold ran down his cheeks and filled his mouth.

ACOK Daenerys III

The crown was the only offering she’d kept. The rest she sold, to gather the wealth she had wasted on the Pureborn. Xaro would have sold the crown too—the Thirteen would see that she had a much finer one, he swore—but Dany forbade it. “Viserys sold my mother’s crown, and men called him a beggar. I shall keep this one, so men will call me a queen.” And so she did, though the weight of it made her neck ache.

Yet even crowned, I am a beggar still, Dany thought. I have become the most splendid beggar in the world, but a beggar all the same. She hated it, as her brother must have. All those years of running from city to city one step ahead of the Usurper’s knives, pleading for help from archons and princes and magisters, buying our food with flattery. He must have known how they mocked him. Small wonder he turned so angry and bitter. In the end it had driven him mad. It will do the same to me if I let it. Part of her would have liked nothing more than to lead her people back to Vaes Tolorro, and make the dead city bloom. No, that is defeat. I have something Viserys never had. I have the dragons. The dragons are all the difference.

ACOK Daenerys II

She wondered whether Aegon’s Red Keep had a pool like this, and fragrant gardens full of lavender and mint. It must, surely. Viserys always said the Seven Kingdoms were more beautiful than any other place in the world.

~

The Dothraki sacked cities and plundered kingdoms, they did not rule them. Dany had no wish to reduce King’s Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.

But before she could do that she must conquer.

The Usurper will kill you, sure as sunrise, Mormont had said. Robert had slain her gallant brother Rhaegar, and one of his creatures had crossed the Dothraki sea to poison her and her unborn son. They said Robert Baratheon was strong as a bull and fearless in battle, a man who loved nothing better than war. And with him stood the great lords her brother had named the Usurper’s dogs, cold-eyed Eddard Stark with his frozen heart, and the golden Lannisters, father and son, so rich, so powerful, so treacherous.

How could she hope to overthrow such men? When Khal Drogo had lived, men trembled and made him gifts to stay his wrath. If they did not, he took their cities, wealth and wives and all. But his khalasar had been vast, while hers was meager. Her people had followed her across the red waste as she chased her comet, and would follow her across the poison water too, but they would not be enough. Even her dragons might not be enough. Viserys had believed that the realm would rise for its rightful king ... but Viserys had been a fool, and fools believe in foolish things.

~

It pleased her to hear that the Usurper’s dogs were fighting amongst themselves, though she was unsurprised. The same thing happened when her Drogo died, and his great khalasar tore itself to pieces. “My brother is dead as well, Viserys who was the true king,” she told the Summer Islander. “Khal Drogo my lord husband killed him with a crown of molten gold.” Would her brother have been any wiser, had he known that the vengeance he had prayed for was so close at hand?

~

“I am not the frightened girl you met in Pentos. I have counted only fifteen name days, true ... but I am as old as the crones in the dosh khaleen and as young as my dragons, Jorah. I have borne a child, burned a khal, and crossed the red waste and the Dothraki sea. Mine is the blood of the dragon.”

“As was your brother’s,” he said stubbornly.

“I am not Viserys.”

ACOK Daenerys I

Her father had been slain before she was born, and her splendid brother Rhaegar as well. Her mother had died bringing her into the world while the storm screamed outside. Gentle Ser Willem Darry, who must have loved her after a fashion, had been taken by a wasting sickness when she was very young. Her brother Viserys, Khal Drogo who was her sun-and-stars, even her unborn son, the gods had claimed them all. They will not have my dragons, Dany vowed. They will not.

~

Such little things, she thought as she fed them by hand, or rather, tried to feed them, for the dragons would not eat. They would hiss and spit at each bloody morsel of horsemeat, steam rising from their nostrils, yet they would not take the food ... until Dany recalled something Viserys had told her when they were children.

Only dragons and men eat cooked meat, he had said.

When she had her handmaids char the horsemeat black, the dragons ripped at it eagerly, their heads striking like snakes.

~

“...Viserys was cruel and weak and frightened, yet he was my brother still. His dragon will do what he could not.”

~

“My handmaids say there are ghosts here.”

“There are ghosts everywhere,” Ser Jorah said softly. “We carry them with us wherever we go.”

Yes, she thought. Viserys, Khal Drogo, my son Rhaego, they are with me always.

~

“...The Hightowers are an ancient family, very rich and very proud.”

“And loyal,” Dany said. “I remember, Viserys said the Hightowers were among those who stayed true to my father.”

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys X

“Princess ...” he began.

“Why do you call me that?” Dany challenged him. “My brother Viserys was your king, was he not?”

“He was, my lady.”

“Viserys is dead. I am his heir, the last blood of House Targaryen. Whatever was his is mine now.”

“My ... queen,” Ser Jorah said, going to one knee.

AGOT Daenerys IX

Viserys stood before her, screaming. “The dragon does not beg, slut. You do not command the dragon. I am the dragon, and I will be crowned.” The molten gold trickled down his face like wax, burning deep channels in his flesh. “I am the dragon and I will be crowned!” he shrieked, and his fingers snapped like snakes, biting at her nipples, pinching, twisting, even as his eyes burst and ran like jelly down seared and blackened cheeks.

AGOT Daenerys VIII

The child kicked inside her, as if he had heard. Dany remembered the story Viserys had told her, of what the Usurper’s dogs had done to Rhaegar’s children. His son had been a babe as well, yet they had ripped him from his mother’s breast and dashed his head against a wall. That was the way of men. “They must not hurt my son!” she cried. “I will order my khas to keep him safe, and Drogo’s bloodriders will—”

AGOT Daenerys VII

Ogo and his son had shared the high bench with her lord husband at the naming feast where Viserys had been crowned, but that was in Vaes Dothrak, beneath the Mother of Mountains, where every rider was a brother and all quarrels were put aside. It was different out in the grass. Ogo’s khalasar had been attacking the town when Khal Drogo caught him.

~

“You are your brother’s sister, in truth.”

“Viserys?” She did not understand.

“No,” he answered. “Rhaegar.”

~

“This is the way of war. These women are our slaves now, to do with as we please.”

“It pleases me to hold them safe,” Dany said, wondering if she had dared too much. “If your warriors would mount these women, let them take them gently and keep them for wives. Give them places in the khalasar and let them bear you sons.”

Qotho was ever the cruelest of the bloodriders. It was he who laughed. “Does the horse breed with the sheep?”

Something in his tone reminded her of Viserys. Dany turned on him angrily. “The dragon feeds on horse and sheep alike.”

AGOT Daenerys VI

She had never seen the Seven Kingdoms either, no more than Drogo, yet she felt as though she knew them from all the tales her brother had told her. Viserys had promised her a thousand times that he would take her back one day, but he was dead now and his promises had died with him.

~

If I were not the blood of the dragon, she thought wistfully, this could be my home. She was khaleesi, she had a strong man and a swift horse, handmaids to serve her, warriors to keep her safe, an honored place in the dosh khaleen awaiting her when she grew old ... and in her womb grew a son who would one day bestride the world. That should be enough for any woman ... but not for the dragon. With Viserys gone, Daenerys was the last, the very last. She was the seed of kings and conquerors, and so too the child inside her. She must not forget.

~

“You have not laughed since your brother the Khal Rhaggat was crowned by Drogo,” said Irri. “It is good to see, Khaleesi.”

Dany smiled shyly. It was sweet to laugh. She felt half a girl again.

~

Dany was near tears as they carried her back. The taste in her mouth was one she had known before: fear. For years she had lived in terror of Viserys, afraid of waking the dragon. This was even worse. It was not just for herself that she feared now, but for her baby. He must have sensed her fright, for he moved restlessly inside her. Dany stroked the swell of her belly gently, wishing she could reach him, touch him, soothe him. “You are the blood of the dragon, little one,” she whispered as her litter swayed along, curtains drawn tight. “You are the blood of the dragon, and the dragon does not fear.”

AGOT Daenerys V

As Doreah and Irri arranged her cushions, she searched for her brother. Even across the length of the crowded hall, Viserys should have been conspicuous with his pale skin, silvery hair, and beggar’s rags, but she did not see him anywhere.

~

“Where is my brother?” Dany asked. “He ought to have come by now, for the feast.”

“I saw His Grace this morning,” he told her. “He told me he was going to the Western Market, in search of wine.”

“Wine?” Dany said doubtfully. Viserys could not abide the taste of the fermented mare’s milk the Dothraki drank, she knew that, and he was oft at the bazaars these days, drinking with the traders who came in the great caravans from east and west. He seemed to find their company more congenial than hers.

“Wine,” Ser Jorah confirmed, “and he has some thought to recruit men for his army from the sellswords who guard the caravans.” A serving girl laid a blood pie in front of him, and he attacked it with both hands.

“Is that wise?” she asked. “He has no gold to pay soldiers. What if he’s betrayed?” Caravan guards were seldom troubled much by thoughts of honor, and the Usurper in King’s Landing would pay well for her brother’s head. “You ought to have gone with him, to keep him safe. You are his sworn sword.”

“We are in Vaes Dothrak,” he reminded her. “No one may carry a blade here or shed a man’s blood.” “Yet men die,” she said. “Jhogo told me. Some of the traders have eunuchs with them, huge men who strangle thieves with wisps of silk. That way no blood is shed and the gods are not angered.” “Then let us hope your brother will be wise enough not to steal anything.” Ser Jorah wiped the grease off his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned close over the table. “He had planned to take your dragon’s eggs, until I warned him that I’d cut off his hand if he so much as touched them.”

For a moment Dany was so shocked she had no words. “My eggs ... but they’re mine, Magister Illyrio gave them to me, a bride gift, why would Viserys want ... they’re only stones ...”

“The same could be said of rubies and diamonds and fire opals, Princess ... and dragon’s eggs are rarer by far. Those traders he’s been drinking with would sell their own manhoods for even one of those stones, and with all three Viserys could buy as many sellswords as he might need.”

Dany had not known, had not even suspected. “Then ... he should have them. He does not need to steal them. He had only to ask. He is my brother ... and my true king.”

“He is your brother,” Ser Jorah acknowledged.

“You do not understand, ser,” she said. “My mother died giving me birth, and my father and my brother Rhaegar even before that. I would never have known so much as their names if Viserys had not been there to tell me. He was the only one left. The only one. He is all I have.” “Once,” said Ser Jorah. “No longer, Khaleesi. You belong to the Dothraki now. In your womb rides the stallion who mounts the world.”

~

A sense of dread closed around her heart. “Go to him,” she commanded Ser Jorah. “Stop him. Bring him here. Tell him he can have the dragon’s eggs if that is what he wants.” The knight rose swiftly to his feet.

“Where is my sister?” Viserys shouted, his voice thick with wine. “I’ve come for her feast. How dare you presume to eat without me? No one eats before the king. Where is she? The whore can’t hide from the dragon.”

~

Dany gave a wordless cry of terror. She knew what a drawn sword meant here, even if her brother did not.

Her voice made Viserys turn his head, and he saw her for the first time. “There she is,” he said, smiling. He stalked toward her, slashing at the air as if to cut a path through a wall of enemies, though no one tried to bar his way.

“The blade ... you must not,” she begged him. “Please, Viserys. It is forbidden. Put down the sword and come share my cushions. There’s drink, food ... is it the dragon’s eggs you want? You can have them, only throw away the sword.”

“Do as she tells you, fool,” Ser Jorah shouted, “before you get us all killed.”

Viserys laughed. “They can’t kill us. They can’t shed blood here in the sacred city ... but I can.” He laid the point of his sword between Daenerys’s breasts and slid it downward, over the curve of her belly. “I want what I came for,” he told her. “I want the crown he promised me. He bought you, but he never paid for you. Tell him I want what I bargained for, or I’m taking you back. You and the eggs both. He can keep his bloody foal. I’ll cut the bastard out and leave it for him.” The sword point pushed through her silks and pricked at her navel. Viserys was weeping, she saw; weeping and laughing, both at the same time, this man who had once been her brother.

Distantly, as from far away, Dany heard her handmaid Jhiqui sobbing in fear, pleading that she dared not translate, that the khal would bind her and drag her behind his horse all the way up the Mother of Mountains. She put her arm around the girl. “Don’t be afraid,” she said. “I shall tell him.”

She did not know if she had enough words, yet when she was done Khal Drogo spoke a few brusque sentences in Dothraki, and she knew he understood. The sun of her life stepped down from the high bench. “What did he say?” the man who had been her brother asked her, flinching. It had grown so silent in the hall that she could hear the bells in Khal Drogo’s hair, chiming softly with each step he took. His bloodriders followed him, like three copper shadows. Daenerys had gone cold all over. “He says you shall have a splendid golden crown that men shall tremble to behold.”

Viserys smiled and lowered his sword. That was the saddest thing, the thing that tore at her afterward ... the way he smiled. “That was all I wanted,” he said. “What was promised.”

When the sun of her life reached her, Dany slid an arm around his waist. The khal said a word, and his bloodriders leapt forward. Qotho seized the man who had been her brother by the arms. Haggo shattered his wrist with a single, sharp twist of his huge hands. Cohollo pulled the sword from his limp fingers. Even now Viserys did not understand. “No,” he shouted, “you cannot touch me, I am the dragon, the dragon, and I will be crowned!”

Khal Drogo unfastened his belt. The medallions were pure gold, massive and ornate, each one as large as a man’s hand. He shouted a command. Cook slaves pulled a heavy iron stew pot from the firepit, dumped the stew onto the ground, and returned the pot to the flames. Drogo tossed in the belt and watched without expression as the medallions turned red and began to lose their shape. She could see fires dancing in the onyx of his eyes. A slave handed him a pair of thick horsehair mittens, and he pulled them on, never so much as looking at the man.

Viserys began to scream the high, wordless scream of the coward facing death. He kicked and twisted, whimpered like a dog and wept like a child, but the Dothraki held him tight between them. Ser Jorah had made his way to Dany’s side. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Turn away, my princess, I beg you.”

“No.” She folded her arms across the swell of her belly, protectively.

At the last, Viserys looked at her. “Sister, please ... Dany, tell them ... make them ... sweet sister ...”

When the gold was half-melted and starting to run, Drogo reached into the flames, snatched out the pot. “Crown!” he roared. “Here. A crown for Cart King!” And upended the pot over the head of the man who had been her brother.

The sound Viserys Targaryen made when that hideous iron helmet covered his face was like nothing human. His feet hammered a frantic beat against the dirt floor, slowed, stopped. Thick globs of molten gold dripped down onto his chest, setting the scarlet silk to smoldering ... yet no drop of blood was spilled.

He was no dragon, Dany thought, curiously calm. Fire cannot kill a dragon.

AGOT Daenerys IV

Dany followed on her silver, escorted by Ser Jorah Mormont and her brother Viserys, mounted once more. After the day in the grass when she had left him to walk back to the khalasar, the Dothraki had laughingly called him Khal Rhae Mhar, the Sorefoot King. Khal Drogo had offered him a place in a cart the next day, and Viserys had accepted. In his stubborn ignorance, he had not even known he was being mocked; the carts were for eunuchs, cripples, women giving birth, the very young and the very old. That won him yet another name: Khal Rhaggat, the Cart King. Her brother had thought it was the khal’s way of apologizing for the wrong Dany had done him. She had begged Ser Jorah not to tell him the truth, lest he be shamed. The knight had replied that the king could well do with a bit of shame ... yet he had done as she bid. It had taken much pleading, and all the pillow tricks Doreah had taught her, before Dany had been able to make Drogo relent and allow Viserys to rejoin them at the head of the column.

~

Beyond the horse gate, plundered gods and stolen heroes loomed to either side of them. The forgotten deities of dead cities brandished their broken thunderbolts at the sky as Dany rode her silver past their feet. Stone kings looked down on her from their thrones, their faces chipped and stained, even their names lost in the mists of time. Lithe young maidens danced on marble plinths, draped only in flowers, or poured air from shattered jars. Monsters stood in the grass beside the road; black iron dragons with jewels for eyes, roaring griffins, manticores with their barbed tails poised to strike, and other beasts she could not name. Some of the statues were so lovely they took her breath away, others so misshapen and terrible that Dany could scarcely bear to look at them. Those, Ser Jorah said, had likely come from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai.

“So many,” she said as her silver stepped slowly onward, “and from so many lands.”

Viserys was less impressed. “The trash of dead cities,” he sneered. He was careful to speak in the Common Tongue, which few Dothraki could understand, yet even so Dany found herself glancing back at the men of her khas, to make certain he had not been overheard. He went on blithely. “All these savages know how to do is steal the things better men have built ... and kill.” He laughed. “They do know how to kill. Otherwise I’d have no use for them at all.”

“They are my people now,” Dany said. “You should not call them savages, brother.”

“The dragon speaks as he likes,” Viserys said ... in the Common Tongue. He glanced over his shoulder at Aggo and Rakharo, riding behind them, and favored them with a mocking smile. “See, the savages lack the wit to understand the speech of civilized men.” A moss-eaten stone monolith loomed over the road, fifty feet tall. Viserys gazed at it with boredom in his eyes. “How long must we linger amidst these ruins before Drogo gives me my army? I grow tired of waiting.”

“The princess must be presented to the dosh khaleen ...”

“The crones, yes,” her brother interrupted, “and there’s to be some mummer’s show of a prophecy for the whelp in her belly, you told me. What is that to me? I’m tired of eating horsemeat and I’m sick of the stink of these savages.” He sniffed at the wide, floppy sleeve of his tunic, where it was his custom to keep a sachet. It could not have helped much. The tunic was filthy. All the silk and heavy wools that Viserys had worn out of Pentos were stained by hard travel and rotted from sweat.

Ser Jorah Mormont said, “The Western Market will have food more to your taste, Your Grace. The traders from the Free Cities come there to sell their wares. The khal will honor his promise in his own time.”

“He had better,” Viserys said grimly. “I was promised a crown, and I mean to have it. The dragon is not mocked.” Spying an obscene likeness of a woman with six breasts and a ferret’s head, he rode off to inspect it more closely.

~

“I will give my brother his gifts tonight,” she decided as Jhiqui was washing her hair. “He should look a king in the sacred city. Doreah, run and find him and invite him to sup with me.” Viserys was nicer to the Lysene girl than to her Dothraki handmaids, perhaps because Magister Illyrio had let him bed her back in Pentos. “Irri, go to the bazaar and buy fruit and meat. Anything but horseflesh.”

“Horse is best,” Irri said. “Horse makes a man strong.”

“Viserys hates horsemeat.”

[...] While her handmaids prepared the meal, Dany laid out the clothing she’d had made to her brother’s measure: a tunic and leggings of crisp white linen, leather sandals that laced up to the knee, a bronze medallion belt, a leather vest painted with fire-breathing dragons. The Dothraki would respect him more if he looked less a beggar, she hoped, and perhaps he would forgive her for shaming him that day in the grass. He was still her king, after all, and her brother. They were both blood of the dragon.

She was arranging the last of his gifts—a sandsilk cloak, green as grass, with a pale grey border that would bring out the silver in his hair—when Viserys arrived, dragging Doreah by the arm. Her eye was red where he’d hit her. “How dare you send this whore to give me commands,” he said. He shoved the handmaid roughly to the carpet.

The anger took Dany utterly by surprise. “I only wanted ... Doreah, what did you say?”

“Khaleesi, pardons, forgive me. I went to him, as you bid, and told him you commanded him to join you for supper.”

“No one commands the dragon,” Viserys snarled. “I am your king! I should have sent you back her head!”

The Lysene girl quailed, but Dany calmed her with a touch. “Don’t be afraid, he won’t hurt you. Sweet brother, please, forgive her, the girl misspoke herself, I told her to ask you to sup with me, if it pleases Your Grace.” She took him by the hand and drew him across the room. “Look. These are for you.”

Viserys frowned suspiciously. “What is all this?”

“New raiment. I had it made for you.” Dany smiled shyly.

He looked at her and sneered. “Dothraki rags. Do you presume to dress me now?”

“Please ... you’ll be cooler and more comfortable, and I thought ... maybe if you dressed like them, the Dothraki ... ” Dany did not know how to say it without waking his dragon.

“Next you’ll want to braid my hair.”

“I’d never ... ” Why was he always so cruel? She had only wanted to help. “You have no right to a braid, you have won no victories yet.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Fury shone from his lilac eyes, yet he dared not strike her, not with her handmaids watching and the warriors of her khas outside. Viserys picked up the cloak and sniffed at it. “This stinks of manure. Perhaps I shall use it as a horse blanket.”

“I had Doreah sew it specially for you,” she told him, wounded. “These are garments fit for a khal.” “I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, not some grass-stained savage with bells in his hair,” Viserys spat back at her. He grabbed her arm. “You forget yourself, slut. Do you think that big belly will protect you if you wake the dragon?”

His fingers dug into her arm painfully and for an instant Dany felt like a child again, quailing in the face of his rage. She reached out with her other hand and grabbed the first thing she touched, the belt she’d hoped to give him, a heavy chain of ornate bronze medallions. She swung it with all her strength.

It caught him full in the face. Viserys let go of her. Blood ran down his cheek where the edge of one of the medallions had sliced it open. “You are the one who forgets himself,” Dany said to him. “Didn’t you learn anything that day in the grass? Leave me now, before I summon my khas to drag you out. And pray that Khal Drogo does not hear of this, or he will cut open your belly and feed you your own entrails.”

Viserys scrambled back to his feet. “When I come into my kingdom, you will rue this day, slut.” He walked off, holding his torn face, leaving her gifts behind him.

Drops of his blood had spattered the beautiful sandsilk cloak. Dany clutched the soft cloth to her cheek and sat cross-legged on her sleeping mats.

“Your supper is ready, Khaleesi,” Jhiqui announced.

“I’m not hungry,” Dany said sadly. She was suddenly very tired.

AGOT Daenerys III

Her handmaid Irri and the young archers of her khas were fluid as centaurs, but Viserys still struggled with the short stirrups and the flat saddle. Her brother was miserable out here. He ought never have come. Magister Illyrio had urged him to wait in Pentos, had offered him the hospitality of his manse, but Viserys would have none of it. He would stay with Drogo until the debt had been paid, until he had the crown he had been promised. “And if he tries to cheat me, he will learn to his sorrow what it means to wake the dragon,” Viserys had vowed, laying a hand on his borrowed sword. Illyrio had blinked at that and wished him good fortune.

Dany realized that she did not want to listen to any of her brother’s complaints right now. The day was too perfect. The sky was a deep blue, and high above them a hunting hawk circled. The grass sea swayed and sighed with each breath of wind, the air was warm on her face, and Dany felt at peace. She would not let Viserys spoil it.

~

Dany did not need to look. She was barefoot, with oiled hair, wearing Dothraki riding leathers and a painted vest given her as a bride gift. She looked as though she belonged here. Viserys was soiled and stained in city silks and ringmail.

He was still screaming. “You do not command the dragon. Do you understand? I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, I will not hear orders from some horselord’s slut, do you hear me?” His hand went under her vest, his fingers digging painfully into her breast. “Do you hear me?”

Dany shoved him away, hard.

Viserys stared at her, his lilac eyes incredulous. She had never defied him. Never fought back. Rage twisted his features. He would hurt her now, and badly, she knew that.

Crack.

The whip made a sound like thunder. The coil took Viserys around the throat and yanked him backward. He went sprawling in the grass, stunned and choking. The Dothraki riders hooted at him as he struggled to free himself. The one with the whip, young Jhogo, rasped a question. Dany did not understand his words, but by then Irri was there, and Ser Jorah, and the rest of her khas. “Jhogo asks if you would have him dead, Khaleesi,” Irri said.

“No,” Dany replied. “No.”

Jhogo understood that. One of the others barked out a comment, and the Dothraki laughed.

Irri told her, “Quaro thinks you should take an ear to teach him respect.”

Her brother was on his knees, his fingers digging under the leather coils, crying incoherently, struggling for breath. The whip was tight around his windpipe.

“Tell them I do not wish him harmed,” Dany said.

Irri repeated her words in Dothraki. Jhogo gave a pull on the whip, yanking Viserys around like a puppet on a string. He went sprawling again, freed from the leather embrace, a thin line of blood under his chin where the whip had cut deep.

“I warned him what would happen, my lady,” Ser Jorah Mormont said. “I told him to stay on the ridge, as you commanded.”

“I know you did,” Dany replied, watching Viserys. He lay on the ground, sucking in air noisily, red-faced and sobbing. He was a pitiful thing. He had always been a pitiful thing. Why had she never seen that before? There was a hollow place inside her where her fear had been.

“Take his horse,” Dany commanded Ser Jorah. Viserys gaped at her. He could not believe what he was hearing; nor could Dany quite believe what she was saying. Yet the words came. “Let my brother walk behind us back to the khalasar.” Among the Dothraki, the man who does not ride was no man at all, the lowest of the low, without honor or pride. “Let everyone see him as he is.”

“No!” Viserys screamed. He turned to Ser Jorah, pleading in the Common Tongue with words the horsemen would not understand. “Hit her, Mormont. Hurt her. Your king commands it. Kill these Dothraki dogs and teach her.”

The exile knight looked from Dany to her brother; she barefoot, with dirt between her toes and oil in her hair, he with his silks and steel. Dany could see the decision on his face. “He shall walk, Khaleesi,” he said. He took her brother’s horse in hand while Dany remounted her silver. Viserys gaped at him, and sat down in the dirt. He kept his silence, but he would not move, and his eyes were full of poison as they rode away. Soon he was lost in the tall grass. When they could not see him anymore, Dany grew afraid. “Will he find his way back?” she asked Ser Jorah as they rode.

“Even a man as blind as your brother should be able to follow our trail,” he replied.

“He is proud. He may be too shamed to come back.”

Jorah laughed. “Where else should he go? If he cannot find the khalasar, the khalasar will most surely find him. It is hard to drown in the Dothraki sea, child.”

Dany saw the truth of that. The khalasar was like a city on the march, but it did not march blindly. Always scouts ranged far ahead of the main column, alert for any sign of game or prey or enemies, while outriders guarded their flanks. They missed nothing, not here, in this land, the place where they had come from. These plains were a part of them ... and of her, now.

“I hit him,” she said, wonder in her voice. Now that it was over, it seemed like some strange dream that she had dreamed. “Ser Jorah, do you think ... he’ll be so angry when he gets back ... She shivered. “I woke the dragon, didn’t I?”

Ser Jorah snorted. “Can you wake the dead, girl? Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon, and he died on the Trident. Viserys is less than the shadow of a snake.”

His blunt words startled her. It seemed as though all the things she had always believed were suddenly called into question. “You ... you swore him your sword ...”

“That I did, girl,” Ser Jorah said. “And if your brother is the shadow of a snake, what does that make his servants?” His voice was bitter.

“He is still the true king. He is ...”

Jorah pulled up his horse and looked at her. “Truth now. Would you want to see Viserys sit a throne?”

Dany thought about that. “He would not be a very good king, would he?”

“There have been worse ... but not many.” The knight gave his heels to his mount and started off again.

Dany rode close beside him. “Still,” she said, “the common people are waiting for him. Magister Illyrio says they are sewing dragon banners and praying for Viserys to return from across the narrow sea to free them.”

“The common people pray for rain, healthy children, and a summer that never ends,” Ser Jorah told her. “It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace.” He gave a shrug. “They never are.”

Dany rode along quietly for a time, working his words like a puzzle box. It went against everything that Viserys had ever told her to think that the people could care so little whether a true king or a usurper reigned over them. Yet the more she thought on Jorah’s words, the more they rang of truth.

“What do you pray for, Ser Jorah?” she asked him.

“Home,” he said. His voice was thick with longing.

“I pray for home too,” she told him, believing it.

Ser Jorah laughed. “Look around you then, Khaleesi.”

But it was not the plains Dany saw then. It was King’s Landing and the great Red Keep that Aegon the Conqueror had built. It was Dragonstone where she had been born. In her mind’s eye they burned with a thousand lights, a fire blazing in every window. In her mind’s eye, all the doors were red.

“My brother will never take back the Seven Kingdoms,” Dany said. She had known that for a long time, she realized. She had known it all her life. Only she had never let herself say the words, even in a whisper, but now she said them for Jorah Mormont and all the world to hear.

Ser Jorah gave her a measuring look. “You think not.”

“He could not lead an army even if my lord husband gave him one,” Dany said. “He has no coin and the only knight who follows him reviles him as less than a snake. The Dothraki make mock of his weakness. He will never take us home.”

AGOT Daenerys II

“Best we get Princess Daenerys wedded quickly before they hand half the wealth of Pentos away to sellswords and bravos,” Ser Jorah Mormont jested. The exile had offered her brother his sword the night Dany had been sold to Khal Drogo; Viserys had accepted eagerly. Mormont had been their constant companion ever since.

Magister Illyrio laughed lightly through his forked beard, but Viserys did not so much as smile. “He can have her tomorrow, if he likes,” her brother said. He glanced over at Dany, and she lowered her eyes. “So long as he pays the price.”

Illyrio waved a languid hand in the air, rings glittering on his fat fingers. “I have told you, all is settled. Trust me. The khal has promised you a crown, and you shall have it.”

“Yes, but when?”

“When the khal chooses,” Illyrio said. “He will have the girl first, and after they are wed he must make his procession across the plains and present her to the dosh khaleen at Vaes Dothrak. After that, perhaps. If the omens favor war.”

Viserys seethed with impatience. “I piss on Dothraki omens. The Usurper sits on my father’s throne. How long must I wait?”

Illyrio gave a massive shrug. “You have waited most of your life, great king. What is another few months, another few years?”

Ser Jorah, who had traveled as far east as Vaes Dothrak, nodded in agreement. “I counsel you to be patient, Your Grace. The Dothraki are true to their word, but they do things in their own time. A lesser man may beg a favor from the khal, but must never presume to berate him.”

Viserys bristled. “Guard your tongue, Mormont, or I’ll have it out. I am no lesser man, I am the rightful Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. The dragon does not beg.”

Ser Jorah lowered his eyes respectfully. Illyrio smiled enigmatically and tore a wing from the duck. Honey and grease ran over his fingers and dripped down into his beard as he nibbled at the tender meat. There are no more dragons, Dany thought, staring at her brother, though she did not dare say it aloud.

~

Viserys was seated just below her, splendid in a new black wool tunic with a scarlet dragon on the chest. Illyrio and Ser Jorah sat beside him. Theirs was a place of high honor, just below the khal’s own bloodriders, but Dany could see the anger in her brother’s lilac eyes. He did not like sitting beneath her, and he fumed when the slaves offered each dish first to the khal and his bride, and served him from the portions they refused. He could do nothing but nurse his resentment, so nurse it he did, his mood growing blacker by the hour at each insult to his person.

Dany had never felt so alone as she did seated in the midst of that vast horde. Her brother had told her to smile, and so she smiled until her face ached and the tears came unbidden to her eyes. She did her best to hide them, knowing how angry Viserys would be if he saw her crying, terrified of how Khal Drogo might react. Food was brought to her, steaming joints of meat and thick black sausages and Dothraki blood pies, and later fruits and sweetgrass stews and delicate pastries from the kitchens of Pentos, but she waved it all away. Her stomach was a roil, and she knew she could keep none of it down.

~

Her brother Viserys gifted her with three handmaids. Dany knew they had cost him nothing; Illyrio no doubt had provided the girls. Irri and Jhiqui were copper-skinned Dothraki with black hair and almond-shaped eyes, Doreah a fair-haired, blue-eyed Lysene girl. “These are no common servants, sweet sister,” her brother told her as they were brought forward one by one. “Illyrio and I selected them personally for you. Irri will teach you riding, Jhiqui the Dothraki tongue, and Doreah will instruct you in the womanly arts of love.” He smiled thinly. “She’s very good, Illyrio and I can both swear to that.”

~

Khal Drogo commanded his bloodriders to bring forth his own horse, a lean red stallion. As the khal was saddling the horse, Viserys slid close to Dany on her silver, dug his fingers into her leg, and said, “Please him, sweet sister, or I swear, you will see the dragon wake as it has never woken before.”

The fear came back to her then, with her brother’s words. She felt like a child once more, only thirteen and all alone, not ready for what was about to happen to her.

AGOT Daenerys I

Her brother held the gown up for her inspection. “This is beauty. Touch it. Go on. Caress the fabric.”

Dany touched it. The cloth was so smooth that it seemed to run through her fingers like water. She could not remember ever wearing anything so soft. It frightened her. She pulled her hand away. “Is it really mine?”

“A gift from the Magister Illyrio,” Viserys said, smiling. Her brother was in a high mood tonight. “The color will bring out the violet in your eyes. And you shall have gold as well, and jewels of all sorts. Illyrio has promised. Tonight you must look like a princess.”

A princess, Dany thought. She had forgotten what that was like. Perhaps she had never really known. “Why does he give us so much?” she asked. “What does he want from us?” For nigh on half a year, they had lived in the magister’s house, eating his food, pampered by his servants. Dany was thirteen, old enough to know that such gifts seldom come without their price, here in the free city of Pentos.

“Illyrio is no fool,” Viserys said. He was a gaunt young man with nervous hands and a feverish look in his pale lilac eyes. “The magister knows that I will not forget my friends when I come into my throne.”

Dany said nothing. Magister Illyrio was a dealer in spices, gemstones, dragonbone, and other, less savory things. He had friends in all of the Nine Free Cities, it was said, and even beyond, in Vaes Dothrak and the fabled lands beside the Jade Sea. It was also said that he’d never had a friend he wouldn’t cheerfully sell for the right price. Dany listened to the talk in the streets, and she heard these things, but she knew better than to question her brother when he wove his webs of dream. His anger was a terrible thing when roused. Viserys called it “waking the dragon.”

Her brother hung the gown beside the door. “Illyrio will send the slaves to bathe you. Be sure you wash off the stink of the stables. Khal Drogo has a thousand horses, tonight he looks for a different sort of mount.” He studied her critically. “You still slouch. Straighten yourself” He pushed back her shoulders with his hands. “Let them see that you have a woman’s shape now.” His fingers brushed lightly over her budding breasts and tightened on a nipple. “You will not fail me tonight. If you do, it will go hard for you.

You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?” His fingers twisted her, the pinch cruelly hard through the rough fabric of her tunic. “Do you?” he repeated.

“No,” Dany said meekly.

Her brother smiled. “Good.” He touched her hair, almost with affection. “When they write the history of my reign, sweet sister, they will say that it began tonight.”

When he was gone, Dany went to her window and looked out wistfully on the waters of the bay. The square brick towers of Pentos were black silhouettes outlined against the setting sun. Dany could hear the singing of the red priests as they lit their night fires and the shouts of ragged children playing games beyond the walls of the estate. For a moment she wished she could be out there with them, barefoot and breathless and dressed in tatters, with no past and no future and no feast to attend at Khal Drogo’s manse.

Somewhere beyond the sunset, across the narrow sea, lay a land of green hills and flowered plains and great rushing rivers, where towers of dark stone rose amidst magnificent blue-grey mountains, and armored knights rode to battle beneath the banners of their lords. The Dothraki called that land Rhaesh Andahli, the land of the Andals. In the Free Cities, they talked of Westeros and the Sunset Kingdoms. Her brother had a simpler name. “Our land,” he called it. The words were like a prayer with him. If he said them enough, the gods were sure to hear. “Ours by blood right, taken from us by treachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragon remembers.”

And perhaps the dragon did remember, but Dany could not. She had never seen this land her brother said was theirs, this realm beyond the narrow sea. These places he talked of, Casterly Rock and the Eyrie, Highgarden and the Vale of Arryn, Dorne and the Isle of Faces, they were just words to her. Viserys had been a boy of eight when they fled King’s Landing to escape the advancing armies of the Usurper, but Daenerys had been only a quickening in their mother’s womb.

Yet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother told her the stories. The midnight flight to Dragonstone, moonlight shimmering on the ship’s black sails. Her brother Rhaegar battling the Usurper in the bloody waters of the Trident and dying for the woman he loved. The sack of King’s Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper’s dogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar’s heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. The polished skulls of the last dragons staring down sightlessly from the walls of the throne room while the Kingslayer opened Father’s throat with a golden sword.

She had been born on Dragonstone nine moons after their flight, while a raging summer storm threatened to rip the island fastness apart. They said that storm was terrible. The Targaryen fleet was smashed while it lay at anchor, and huge stone blocks were ripped from the parapets and sent hurtling into the wild waters of the narrow sea. Her mother had died birthing her, and for that her brother Viserys had never forgiven her.

She did not remember Dragonstone either. They had run again, just before the Usurper’s brother set sail with his new-built fleet. By then only Dragonstone itself, the ancient seat of their House, had remained of the Seven Kingdoms that had once been theirs. It would not remain for long. The garrison had been prepared to sell them to the Usurper, but one night Ser Willem Darry and four loyal men had broken into the nursery and stolen them both, along with her wet nurse, and set sail under cover of darkness for the safety of the Braavosian coast.

She remembered Ser Willem dimly, a great grey bear of a man, half-blind, roaring and bellowing orders from his sickbed. The servants had lived in terror of him, but he had always been kind to Dany. He called her “Little Princess” and sometimes “My Lady,” and his hands were soft as old leather. He never left his bed, though, and the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sickly sweet odor. That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever.

They had wandered since then, from Braavos to Myr, from Myr to Tyrosh, and on to Qohor and Volantis and Lys, never staying long in any one place. Her brother would not allow it. The Usurper’s hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one.

At first the magisters and archons and merchant princes were pleased to welcome the last Targaryens to their homes and tables, but as the years passed and the Usurper continued to sit upon the Iron Throne, doors closed and their lives grew meaner. Years past they had been forced to sell their last few treasures, and now even the coin they had gotten from Mother’s crown had gone. In the alleys and wine sinks of Pentos, they called her brother “the beggar king.” Dany did not want to know what they called her.

“We will have it all back someday, sweet sister,” he would promise her. Sometimes his hands shook when he talked about it. “The jewels and the silks, Dragonstone and King’s Landing, the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, all they have taken from us, we will have it back.” Viserys lived for that day. All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known.

~

The girl pulled the rough cotton tunic over Dany’s head and helped her into the tub. The water was scalding hot, but Daenerys did not flinch or cry out. She liked the heat. It made her feel clean. Besides, her brother had often told her that it was never too hot for a Targaryen. “Ours is the house of the dragon,” he would say. “The fire is in our blood.”

~

“Drogo is so rich that even his slaves wear golden collars. A hundred thousand men ride in his khalasar, and his palace in Vaes Dothrak has two hundred rooms and doors of solid silver.” There was more like that, so much more, what a handsome man the khal was, so tall and fierce, fearless in battle, the best rider ever to mount a horse, a demon archer. Daenerys said nothing. She had always assumed that she would wed Viserys when she came of age. For centuries the Targaryens had married brother to sister, since Aegon the Conqueror had taken his sisters to bride. The line must be kept pure, Viserys had told her a thousand times; theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Dragons did not mate with the beasts of the field, and Targaryens did not mingle their blood with that of lesser men. Yet now Viserys schemed to sell her to a stranger, a barbarian.

~

He rested his hand on the hilt of the sword that Illyrio had lent him, and said, “Are you sure that Khal Drogo likes his women this young?”

“She has had her blood. She is old enough for the khal,” Illyrio told him, not for the first time. “Look at her. That silver-gold hair, those purple eyes ... she is the blood of old Valyria, no doubt, no doubt ... and highborn, daughter of the old king, sister to the new, she cannot fail to entrance our Drogo.” When he released her hand, Daenerys found herself trembling.

“I suppose,” her brother said doubtfully. “The savages have queer tastes. Boys, horses, sheep ...”

“Best not suggest this to Khal Drogo,” Illyrio said.

Anger flashed in her brother’s lilac eyes. “Do you take me for a fool?”

The magister bowed slightly. “I take you for a king. Kings lack the caution of common men. My apologies if I have given offense.” He turned away and clapped his hands for his bearers.

~

Dany could smell the stench of Illyrio’s pallid flesh through his heavy perfumes.

Her brother, sprawled out on his pillows beside her, never noticed. His mind was away across the narrow sea. “We won’t need his whole khalasar,” Viserys said. His fingers toyed with the hilt of his borrowed blade, though Dany knew he had never used a sword in earnest. “Ten thousand, that would be enough, I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers. The realm will rise for its rightful king. Tyrell, Redwyne, Darry, Greyjoy, they have no more love for the Usurper than I do. The Dornishmen burn to avenge Elia and her children. And the smallfolk will be with us. They cry out for their king.” He looked at Illyrio anxiously. “They do, don’t they?”

“They are your people, and they love you well,” Magister Illyrio said amiably. “In holdfasts all across the realm, men lift secret toasts to your health while women sew dragon banners and hide them against the day of your return from across the water.” He gave a massive shrug. “Or so my agents tell me.”

Dany had no agents, no way of knowing what anyone was doing or thinking across the narrow sea, but she mistrusted Illyrio’s sweet words as she mistrusted everything about Illyrio. Her brother was nodding eagerly, however. “I shall kill the Usurper myself,” he promised, who had never killed anyone, “as he killed my brother Rhaegar. And Lannister too, the Kingslayer, for what he did to my father.”

“That would be most fitting,” Magister Illyrio said. Dany saw the smallest hint of a smile playing around his full lips, but her brother did not notice. Nodding, he pushed back a curtain and stared off into the night, and Dany knew he was fighting the Battle of the Trident once again.

~

Dany noticed that her brother’s hand was clenched tightly around the hilt of his borrowed sword. He looked almost as frightened as she felt.

~

Magister Illyrio’s words were honey. “Many important men will be at the feast tonight. Such men have enemies. The khal must protect his guests, yourself chief among them, Your Grace. No doubt the Usurper would pay well for your head.”

“Oh, yes,” Viserys said darkly. “He has tried, Illyrio, I promise you that. His hired knives follow us everywhere. I am the last dragon, and he will not sleep easy while I live.”

The palanquin slowed and stopped. The curtains were thrown back, and a slave offered a hand to help Daenerys out. His collar, she noted, was ordinary bronze. Her brother followed, one hand still clenched hard around his sword hilt.

~

Her brother took her by the arm as Illyrio waddled over to the khal, his fingers squeezing so hard that they hurt. “Do you see his braid, sweet sister?”

Drogo’s braid was black as midnight and heavy with scented oil, hung with tiny bells that rang softly as he moved. It swung well past his belt, below even his buttocks, the end of it brushing against the back of his thighs.

“You see how long it is?” Viserys said. “When Dothraki are defeated in combat, they cut off their braids in disgrace, so the world will know their shame. Khal Drogo has never lost a fight. He is Aegon the Dragonlord come again, and you will be his queen.”

Dany looked at Khal Drogo. His face was hard and cruel, his eyes as cold and dark as onyx. Her brother hurt her sometimes, when she woke the dragon, but he did not frighten her the way this man frightened her. “I don’t want to be his queen,” she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. “Please, please, Viserys, I don’t want to, I want to go home.”

“Home?” He kept his voice low, but she could hear the fury in his tone. “How are we to go home, sweet sister? They took our home from us!” He drew her into the shadows, out of sight, his fingers digging into her skin. “How are we to go home?” he repeated, meaning King’s Landing, and Dragonstone, and all the realm they had lost.

Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio’s estate, no true home surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him. His fingers dug hard into her arm, demanding an answer. “I don’t know ...” she said at last, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her eyes.

“I do,” he said sharply. “We go home with an army, sweet sister. With Khal Drogo’s army, that is how we go home. And if you must wed him and bed him for that, you will.” He smiled at her. “I’d let his whole fuck you if need be, sweet sister, all forty thousand men, and their horses too if that was what it took to get my army. Be grateful it is only Drogo. In time you may even learn to like him. Now dry your eyes. Illyrio is bringing him over, and he will not see you crying.”

Dany turned and saw that it was true. Magister Illyrio, all smiles and bows, was escorting Khal Drogo over to where they stood. She brushed away unfallen tears with the back of her hand.

“Smile,” Viserys whispered nervously, his hand failing to the hilt of his sword. “And stand up straight. Let him see that you have breasts. Gods know, you have little enough as is.”

Daenerys smiled, and stood up straight. 

#daenerys targaryen #viserys targaryen #dany passages #dany relationships #a dance with dragons #a storm of swords #a clash of kings #a game of thrones