let me be a dreamer

let me be a dreamer.

[stormlit]

🗲 STORMLIT. an independent, mutuals only multimuse, containing canon and original characters from a wide variety of fandoms and eras, as written by CLAIRE (she/her, gmt, 30+).

21+ followers only. activity may be slow due to chronic illness. please do not use double spacing or custom colours with me for accessibility reasons.

featured muses: fionn tremayne, beau rafferty, amalia braganza, molly o'sullivan, ylfa snorgelsson. featured settings/aus: iwtv, heated rivalry, doctor who, regency.

BLOGROLL: @tremaynes CARRD ᛫ MUSES ᛫ MEMES ᛫ AFFILIATES

[stormlit]

a reminder that i'm still more active on @tremaynes atm! but i definitely haven't abandoned this blog, i love my kids, more replies will be happening when they happen. <3

[stormlit]

the other thing about claudia is like yes, i do think she had a lot of pent up frustration & resentment at both l.ouis and l.estat, i do think she was more manipulative than they wanted to believe she was, i do think that for her, as with a lot of vampires, the line between love and hate is so thin and especially when that's coupled with being turned at puberty and enduring all of the shit she had to endure, it's really hard to tell where one ends and the other begins bc she loves and will always love them but she also hates and will always hate them—

but also. she was furious when she died. her last words were spitting venom at the audience, she was burning with anger as she burned, she died swearing vengeance, she was pissed off with l.ouis for what he was like during the trial, she hated a.rmand and the coven, she was pure rage, and that was how she died. and then her spirit couldn't rest, spent 70+ years alone in some kind of hell or purgatory or wherever she was, she knew she was being used as an excuse and as pity and still, still as an object in her fathers' lives instead of her own person. i do think ghost!claudia was embodying a lot of that because she was trapped in it. i do think she was a lot of her worst traits, as well as no longer hiding the things she'd kept to herself. if you die angry surely it stands to reason that you're gonna stay angry, y'know? she's already proof that when she died and became a vampire at 14, her body was frozen in that moment.

[stormlit]

i do think claudia loved her dads but i also think that was very much wrapped up in her resentment of being made to fix a broken marriage, of being made into something that should have meant freedom—and did, at first, until she matured and realise that it instead meant a small, lonely life, of being trapped in a prison they wouldn't let her leave while also not giving her the things (namely, true companionship) she needed for that not to become something that festered. and her life was never allowed to be about her, she was never anyone's first choice, even as a human she was abused and had a heart murmur that would have ultimately killed her and then as a vampire she was abused and sentenced to death for the crime of existing (which she'd never asked for and yet those that made her felt like they were the fucking saviours for it). and she had a long time to plan her way to freedom, and if that meant manipulation and murder, well, she was turned into a monster, she is her fathers' daughter, and they were the ones limiting her.

and so love became hate became venomous hate after 70+ years of death that was also lonely and unforgiving while she had to watch her death be turned into self-pity and excuses and the useless act of killing someone for her when she is no longer around for that to mean anything to, yknow? the love was always there but when you're turned as a teenager you're gonna feel things strongly and we all know teenagers are masters of the i hate you and vampires do feel things differently, all the betrayals never stopped the love forever

[stormlit]

i have so many issues with this season narratively and the way it's being given little time to breathe esp in flashbacks but my god the acting continues to be next level, delainey u made me CRY I LOVE MY VICIOUS DAUGHTER WITH HER RIGHTEOUS ANGER

[astrophager]

sidney talks about ‘ going back ‘ and i shove down a shudder waiting to happen. i know the way, don’t need to solve a puzzle already ready with its solution. it involves four light - years of travel and a coma i’m not too eager to repeat. what would be waiting for me on the other side ? perhaps oblivion is bliss, after all.

he dodges the question thanks to her more existential musings, is quite keen to keep the subject on her rather than divert it onto himself. ❛ meeting new people is overrated. ❜ he agrees knowingly, sage nod and all. ❛ the small talk isn’t worth the reward — nine times out of then they end up disappointing you, and the tenth ? well, they might be alright if you’re lucky. ❜ he thinks sidney is the tenth in his books, but rocky falls into that category too. grace finds he’s been more fortunate in his encounters in outer space than he ever was with human beings, which creates one heck of a mental crisis that he doesn’t look into too deeply. he is grateful, however for these new friends along his journey — would sidney go as far as to call them friends, or is he being too bold, too presumptuous ? — and feels he is happier than he has been in a long time, but also sadder. lonelier.

grace curls his hands around a divine gift as far as he’s concerned, relishes the sharp scent as he hovers over the steaming rim of it. he is still very new to this idea of so many other life forms sharing the galaxies, has always figured they would not be alone, but it had first been the astrophage, then rock spiders, and now . . . his whole world has opened up like a shell, and he imagines hers has, too. ❛ what’s next for you ? i suppose you’ll see the sights, explore the cosmos — i make a lousy chauffeur, but if there’s somewhere in particular you have your vision set on . . . i’m guessing going back isn’t an option for you. ❜

me neither.

[stormlit]

❝ i still think there are good people out there. like...somewhere i could belong. but i'd like people more if they weren't tryin' to kill me. or wipe me. ❞ folks out here really don't like a droid that isn't solely for their own use, it seems; sid doesn't know if there are any others with sentience out there, or if she's all alone in the multiverse, a unique version of something that should have been manufactured in its thousands, but she hopes they're okay. she hopes they're living their lives. she hopes she finds them, one day, and figures out more about herself. she's still not sure if she's truly awake, or if this too is part of her programming. do humans worry about whether they've really got free will, or is it something they know they have? ❝ but that means i get to try to kill 'em right back. and my grenades are better. ❞

she bets swiss army knives never had a grenades attachment, but this swiss army wife sure does!

dr grace's question makes sid shrug, absently rolling one of her skates back and forth as she considers. what is next for you, sundry sidney? ❝ oh, i'm not from earth, anyway. i don't think there is an earth where i'm from. but no. i don't wanna go back. ❞ they'd kill her, if a thing such as her can be killed, and not simply dismantled. and sidney doesn't have a belly, and she doesn't have lungs, but the thought makes something twist inside her, anyway, her internal wires getting all tangled. if she needed to breathe, she would be finding it hard. ❝ i was just...running. nowhere in particular. long as it ain't towards handy andi. they're the folks that made me. ❞

[n0bodyson]

❝ that's. . . oddly sweet. ❞ ella's laugh is bright, genuine as her features scrunch slightly with her amusement. sure, she is used to the odd practices of most american sports by now, but there is always something new for her to learn. no matter how ridiculous it might be. the thought of beau as a little boy, learning to skate for the first time in some neighborhood ice rink or a frozen-over pond, is enough for her. just as she has memories of being around baseball with her father, ella knows that there are similar ones for beau, too. despite growing up thousands of miles away from each other, they had much more in common than they realized.

it takes everything in her power to keep from looking down at her feet again. every slight wobble of her foot has her wanting terribly to look at the ice below to try and find a softer place to land. but he keeps a tight hold of her hands, and it is so much easier to study beau's features and each soft smile that curves at his lips. god, how did she ever think that anything she felt towards beau was platonic? her desperate grasp on her career had shadowed every possibility of a life they would have together. even on his quiet days, days when it all becomes too much and he releases the tight grip of his emotions; he is still one of, if not the best, thing that has ever happened to her.

❝ do you really think you could handle another one of me talking your ear off? ❞ the look on her face is almost bashful, her cheeks flushing a darker pink, before she allows herself to finally look back at her feet with his instruction. ella does her best to concentrate, shifting her weight back just slightly, and finally feels herself gliding more than stepping now. ❝ you don't have to thank me, beau. i'm glad i could be here for you. this is the happiest i've seen you in a little while. ❞

[stormlit]

❝ sure. right before they teach us how to check people into the boards, ❞ beau grins, because there's no getting away from the nature of his sport. perhaps it's not the next lesson — they have to be competent on their skates, first, and big enough that it's safe — but he knows there's violence in hockey. beau may do his best to stay out of the big fights, leaving that to the defenders, but...it's an outlet, all the same. it's sanctioned, and it's not as though he's so calm because he never feels anger. only because he doesn't act on it, because he takes the feeling and keeps it inside, where it can hurt nobody. it eating away at him, sometimes, doesn't count.

but beau on this ice, this beau, has no desire to do even that; he's gentle and he's content and he is so fucking proud of ella for being willing to give this a go, even though it's clearly so far out of her comfort zone it might as well be on the other side of the world. and this might never have happened, if neither of them had been brave enough to take the risk. he can't imagine it, now; there is no part of his life that would survive not spending his life with ella tremaine.

❝ i'd love it, actually. ❞ he loves that she talks. he loves that she's outgoing. he would listen to her all day, if he could. sure, sometimes he needs quiet, sometimes his battery is so drained that he can't handle anything but silence and isolation, but most of the time, ella's the exception; beau wants to be around her, and he wants to know what she's thinking, even when he doesn't have the words to keep up. that's a race she's always going to win. ❝ there you go, ❞ he murmurs, smile soft as he guides them around kane's kids. ❝ gonna be outskating me in no time. and i am happy. you're here, in this place i love. ❞ as though it's that simple. because it is.

[stormlit]

amalia does not have fledglings, and she's very reluctant to make any given the trauma of her own turning—and, more manipulatively, the fact that she wouldn't be able to read their minds. she has very little physical strength; the psychic is where she excels. she might consider turning a lover, but she also prefers relationships with other vampires over those with humans.

i do however think that she becomes someone who is known to kind of adopt other people's fledglings, particularly young women who were turned in traumatic circumstances and want nothing to do with their makers, and ends up guiding and teaching them. it's not a coven, she hates covens and views them as cult-like, but nonetheless it becomes known: if you need guidance and a safe haven, you find amalia. she'll look out for you.

[stormlit]

sorry to bianca for having to spend centuries in that dusty workshop tomb while m.arius cared more about twmbk than her

[alysmond]

The day you were born I was shakin’ like a leaf on an old oak tree Then you stayed like a thorn Red roses raining’ down til they flooded me

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE Season 1, Episode 7 | Season 3, Episode 5

[n0bodyson]

it is the most out of place that ella has felt since she first moved to new york with her father. sure, most people here know who she is; whether they know her as beau's girlfriend, or from the friends of other players who had her as their agent. her discomfort lies in the fact that she might be the most un-athletic person out here. it's not the fear of injury or the pain of falling that concerns her, she doesn't want to embarrass him in front of all of his teammates and their families. it's a ridiculous fear, she knows, but it doesn't waver how hard she holds onto beau's hands.

❝ really? they teach you how to fall? ❞ learning how to fall, what a crazy thought. having only been in the hockey world for a short time, there is still a lot of the sport that she doesn't know about. watching as the kids around them tumble around on the ice and pop right back up, ella believes that to be true. no matter how odd it might seem in her mind.

blue eyes glance back up to meet beau's gaze, a smile almost instinctively spreading across her lips. she nods her head at his instruction and makes a strong effort not to look down at her feet this time. ella tries to focus on pushing from the ball of her foot, but the tip of her skate continues to get caught every few few feet. the anxiety calms a bit just from keeping her eyes on him, a laugh soon escaping her lips. the sentiment that sits deep inside her heart, now seems to come out so easily. ❝ hopefully, our kids will have your athleticism. they certainly won't get any from me. ❞

[stormlit]

❝ sure. we crash into each other a lot, falling's inevitable. gotta protect the wrists and head. and it teaches us that we can get back up again. ❞ that's the important part, really; maybe they get hit into the boards, maybe they get punched, but they pick themselves up and they keep going. beau's lost count of the number of injuries he's played through, and that's just with normal checks. he'll drop gloves, if it comes to it, he ain't afraid to, but he's not an instigator. nor is he an enforcer. you shake it off, you get back up, you keep going. no matter how bad. most players he knows do that, even when a lot of people would want to call it quits. but nobody ever thought hockey players were sane. ❝ you're not gonna fall, though. i got you. ❞

the fact that this is way outside ella's comfort zone hasn't missed beau; he's well aware of the fact that she's doing this for him, that she would probably rather be anywhere else right now. it's got to be hard, seeing the kids skate like they were born on the ice, while she's struggling to keep her balance. he'd feel just as bad watching some kids be great dancers, or something. but he's so proud of her for being willing to give it a go anyway, so happy to have her here, in this place that he loves. this is the part of hockey he enjoys; the team, the family, the ice. and ella has been a part of that for a long time, even before they were together.

❝ long as they get your brains. and sociability, christ. ❞ beau's perfectly happy with who he is, but he wants their kids to enjoy being in crowds, to want to be the life of the party. especially if they go into hockey; he knows his inability to be at ease in interviews means folks think he's standoffish. he's not, he's just not a talker. ❝ your weight's too far forward, that's why you're gettin' caught. glide through your whole foot, not just the toes, that's it, ❞ he murmurs, encouraging. ❝ hey. i'm really glad you're here. thank you. ❞

[n0bodyson]

❝ thank you, honey. ❞ all ella has ever heard for her entire life is that she's too much. she's too nice, too affectionate, too over-bearing, too loud----- she's just too much for everyone else around her. everything in her life had been taken away from her in such a short amount of time; her family now fractured and gone, years of never being good enough for something as simple as a smile or a kind word for everything that she did, everything that she sacrificed. wouldn't anyone who experienced the same hold onto everything that they have with a white-knuckled grip?

beau never makes her feel too much. even in his quiet nature, he has always embraced her for who she is.

crawling her way to the other side of the bed, ella hums softly under her breath as she swings her legs over to get to her feet again. pulling a random dresser drawer open, she finds the first shirt of his on top and tosses it over to the bed. making quick work of her bra, she tosses it in the general direction of the laundry hamper, though it still misses terribly. it might drive her crazy any other time, but in her wine-drunk haze, ella can't bring herself to care. instead, she pulls the shirt over her head, and folds back the blankets and duvet before sliding easily into her side of the bed.

❝ i think i can handle this much. ❞ her voice is warm as she reaches over to squeeze his knee affectionately. ❝ you should get ready for bed, too. you are the one with two interviews tomorrow, i can afford to lose out on a little bit of sleep this time. ❞

[stormlit]

this is the kind of life beau always dreamed of having, but never thought would be his. he's spent his entire life taking care of other people, and while he adores his sisters, it's very different, taking up the parental slack while still a child yourself, to this. this is domesticity, this is love. there's no weight to it, no resentment or irritation. because yeah, this time ella is the one who needs the assistance, the adorably tipsy one, but how many times has she caught him when he's needed it? when his ability to control and bottle things up disappears, and he's left drowning?

tonight, he's taking care of her. but she takes care of him, too. every single day. it's not remotely unbalanced.

❝ i'm gonna have to buy more shirts, if you keep stealin' 'em, ❞ beau grumbles, without any kind of heat. not angry heat, at least; his eyes catch on her for a moment, staring a little too long at her legs. she looks good. he'd let her steal all his clothes, when she looks like this. he snorts softly, though he does finally stop fussing long enough to get out of his jeans, folding them over the chair in the corner and getting into some loose, soft sleep pants.

❝ god, don't remind me. ❞ he had, in fact, forgotten, though his calendar would have reminded him in the morning. he kisses the top of ella's head as he passes her, nose pressed into her hair for a moment before he pulls himself away, heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. ❝ i'm sure they'll miss out on some real good conversation if i'm a little tired. ❞

[tremaynes]

good morning we're under a red high heat warning where i am which means chronic illness flare up time! i'm around, idk how much writing will get done. feel free to add me on d.iscord or fionn on w.ire

[astrophager]

❛ nope, nope, and extra nope. we have roombas ? ❜ nobody's asked him before if he's going back to earth, nobody except rocky. it's a little different : at least the eridian understands the dilemma, has been there for each step of its grasp. first the acceptance of his laika - like fate, then the revelation that he could hope, that he was allowed to live, that there was a chance. it's not as easy a celebration as it seems, and there's no telling if he's even saved earth, but even with definite proof, he's not sure he'd go back.

i'm not sure what there is to go back to. plenty for others, if yáo and ilyukhina had made the trip for example, their loved ones would clamour for them. i don't have that luxury, and that's okay. i've made peace with it. the truth is erid gave me more than earth ever did.

❛ they're like, little disc - shaped floor robots that clean. they're . . . not very good. ❜ he is quite eager to expand on that last point, even if only to detract from the previous ones. rocky gets his strife about going back home, about not really knowing where home is, but explaining that to a near stranger seems like a step up. grace accepts the coffee with a beaming smile and grateful nod, truthfully a little excited to try his first ever droid - made beverage. it's certainly a notch higher than a standard coffee machine.

❛ yeah, i don't think i'd count the guys you blew up. it's not exactly a meet - cute. you know what ? we don't need to put a number on it. plenty more fish in the sea. ❜ grace takes a measured and confident sip, trusting in the process, and smacks his lips together, drinks more before his verdict. ❛ okay, this is delicious. ❜

[stormlit]

home is not a concept sid understands, exactly; she wasn't born so much as roller skated off an assembly line into beta testing she was not awake for and does not remember (though the memories are still somewhere in her logs, she imagines, should she go digging for them), she didn't grow up anywhere, she has no family save a creator she's never met and cannot find. there isn't a place she belongs—and, as a one of a kind, she has no people like herself. other droids, sure, but she's yet to find another with true sentience.

what she does have, however, is empathy. even if it's born from the programming requiring her to anticipate her owner's every need, even if it's hard to imagine things she has no actual concept is, it's not going to stop her trying. sid doesn't know what it feels like, to be so far from a home planet, but she can do her best. she's always doing her best. ❝ don't you wanna go back? i betcha we could figure out a way. ❞

sid feels sorry for the little floor robots. people said she wasn't very good, too. ❝ i'm sure they're tryin' their best. ❞ does earth not have the tech for other kinds—for cleaner droids, or multifunctional tools like herself? it's a good thing — sid doesn't want droids to be stuck as servants to their creators, even if they haven't woken up like she has — she just finds it strange that earth is behind. that it's sent a guy to space but doesn't have that.

❝ maybe i don't need to meet new people. i like the ones i know. or, well, i like you. i guess i didn't like the ones that wanted me scrapped. ❞ dr grace is nice, though. maybe he looks at her a little funny, sometimes, but he also treats her like a person. ❝ yeah, validation! ❞

[saintslegion]

@stormlit !

both hands grip the blade. large & strong enough to have dealt with plenty of vampires, he thinks to himself. messy work, though. not too fond of it. " we doin' this or what? actually, wait, lemme ask something. you want to give me a speech about how you're actually not that bad? i might listen this time! "

[stormlit]

❝ is or what actually an option? ❞ amalia regards the blade — machete, perhaps? — with what appears to be boredom, more than anything else. if she's afraid for her life, she's certainly not about to show it, is she? that's a kind of weakness someone like her can ill afford. she does not, however, imagine the hunter is really giving her a choice, which is why there is intentional distance between them. amalia does not possess the cloud gift, but she can still move much faster than he can. she'd just like to be able to give herself something of a headstart. ❝ i have no desire to fight you, you know. ❞

[viewkill]

@stormlit liked!

his sights are fixed on her, he wears a stony expression on his face that gives nothing away. after a few moments of, presumably, mutual tension, he slightly lowers his aim. " you look nothing like the file, " a pause follows, a wry smirk falls onto his face. " i doubt my superiors standards have fallen so low as to get it that wrong. "

[stormlit]

his aim lowers; yelena's does not. his hesitation is good, not just because this would be a really boring way for her to die, after everything, but because it exposes a little weakness in his armour, a place she can dig her fingers in and get at soft, vulnerable skin. ❝ superiors usually do not have superior brains. ❞ she didn't get a photo, with her job, just a description. yelena thinks the guy's accent might be a little wrong, but he's certainly armed enough to be her mark. ❝ did they forget to mention that i'm a woman, again? that happens, sometimes. very annoying. very sexist. you look exactly like the photo i got. ❞

[redstrng]

that damn journal. i know it's going to be the death of us all one day -- haven't i told them about the great laws? maybe not. though that wicked little girl would continue writing in her journal even if it meant our downfalls so no reason to introduce the laws to them now. who's going to enforce them anyway?

ah. she's hungry. she's always hungry. it may be my favorite part of her. the ways we can bond in our immortality. " let me think. " i don't really need to think, i just like to tease her, my lips curling as the newspaper is now away from me. louis sleeps peacefully ; he'll never even know we left. " let's go for a drive then, yes? "

[stormlit]

❝ lestaaat! ❞ the whine is, of course, unnecessary; claudia has already determined that les, who enjoys killing at least as much as she does, is going to indulge her in this. maybe it's to stop her hunger becoming a gnawing annoyance she feels the need to share with the rest of the house, maybe it's because he likes having someone to teach his monstrous ways to, what with louis being all boring and self-righteous about it—but claudia doesn't much care about the why. she mostly just cares that he says yes.

naturally he does, with enough hours before sunrise to keep them safe, and claudia answers him with a bright smile and a kiss pressed to his cheek as she all but skips to the door. ❝ can i drive? ❞