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halequeenjas · 4 years

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Glitz & Glam || Camille, Cutler, Dave, Erin, Evelyn, Jasmine, Leah, Nate, Nell, & Oz

TIMING: Tonight PARTIES: @carrionxcamille @clarkesconvenience @seizethecarpe @corpse--diem @thronesofshadows @halequeenjas @nate-santos @nelllraiser @curatedfaetes SUMMARY: Just some mostly harmless fun celebrating Jasmine’s birthday.

Birthdays had always been something Jasmine enjoyed, especially her own. As a self-proclaimed lover of being the center of attention, she couldn’t help but love Nell’s idea of being carried into her own party on a palanquin. The notorious Jack the stripper was one of the men carrying her into the jazz bar that was holding her New Orleans themed birthday party. Just by the looks of it, she could tell Nell, Leah, and Bea had really outdone themselves. There was a jazz band currently playing Run the World aka one of her favorite Beyonce songs. The mask decorating station was ago along with some beads. A whole table full of beignets was calling her, but it was the tiramisu cake that Nate made at the center of it all that really caught her attention. Jasmine soaked in some of the cheers as she was carried into the center of the room.

Nate had made sure to get to the venue early enough to set up the delicate tiramisu cake in all it’s glory. Originally, he’d wanted to do much more gold leafing, but other than on the decorative macarons, it just ended up covering the beautiful layers and that wouldn’t do. He stood back and admired his creation until Jasmine herself entered in true Jasmine fashion: carried in an ornate palanquin carried by muscled men to the sounds of Beyonce. He grinned, expecting nothing less of Jasmine Hale. He applauded along with a few others and hoped beyond hope that this would be just another ordinary party with ordinary people.

Nell was one of the many cheers to accolade Jasmine as the woman was carried in by assorted and muscular men, and she gave Jack a friendly wave as he too made his course across the floor. It was hard to forget the time he’d been dressed as a sailor at Bea’s party, and then the time he was Bea’s plus one to Nell’s party. It seemed that their little gaggle of girls had decided to adopt Jack to some extent, and he was quickly becoming a permanent fixture at parties. “Yes, Jasmine!” she yelled along with the rest of the crowd, accidentally jostling the Mardi Gras mask she was wearing while cupping her hands around her mouth. Though...now that she thought of it...now was the perfect time to grab a handful of beignets while all eyes were focused on Jasmine, and she quickly made her way towards the pastry table. “Scuse me,” she offered to whoever got in her path as she worked her way toward the sweetness.

The last party Dave had been at, he hadn't been, strictly speaking, invited. He had, strictly speaking, almost drowned because he'd been trapped in a magically frozen lake. So. This could only be better. Although it felt mighty weird being invited to a party when the only time he'd really gotten to know Jasmine was by being attacked by Bloody Mary. Wasn't the neatest way of getting to know people. There were some faces he recognised, but as he waited for Jas to come in... Dave felt more than a little out of place in all this glamour. Doubly so when Jasmine (who he really only knew as an exorcist) came in on a goddamn palanquin. It was at this point that Dave concluded he would need a whole lot more beer.

Attending functions that were important to one’s friends was the right thing to do, and Evelyn also knew that she truly enjoyed Jasmine’s company, and the two of them hadn’t had too much time to spend together recently. What better way to remedy that than by attending her birthday party? Miriam had given her full approval of her outfit (which wasn’t truly something she needed, but she enjoyed having the approval of others, so it certainly didn’t hurt). Evelyn couldn’t help but grin at Jasmine’s entrance. A bit over-the-top, certainly, but charming and perfectly executed. Though she shouldn’t have expected anything less. She’d grabbed one of the beignets and was absent-mindedly picking at it, giving a small wave to Jasmine as she was carried in.

Once in the center of the room. Jasmine gracefully exited the palanquin as Jack offered her a hand. She smiled widely at the room filled with her various friends and acquaintances. As the song and cheers quieted, she called out, “Thank you so much to everyone for being here. I hope you have as much fun as I do. Please, help yourself to the open bar and assorted snacks available.” She made her way over to the bar to get herself a glass of champagne. It was, after all, a celebration. She dawned her lovely Mardi Gras green dress with gold accents with a lovely mask that included the use of crystals and gold flakes around the edges to give her an extra glamorous flair. She greeted her friends who were already at the bar and was ready for good old fashioned cheers.

From the moment she walked in, Erin had been pretty damn sure that she’d never been to a party quite as festive or extravagant as the one she’d stepped into. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense for someone like Jasmine, and hollered and cheered as loud as she could along with the group when she was literally carried into her party. Good for her, she thought, as she beelined for the mouth-watering treats that lined one of the tables. After making sure she had a glass of champagne, of course. “Excuse you,” she joked, gently nudging Nell away and snatched one of the desserts she was reaching for first.

So, Camille wasn’t going to say no to an excuse to let her hair down, especially now that she lived alone, even if she didn’t know all these people it was nice just to be out for a fun evening. The decor alone would’ve been enough to indicate that Jasmine intended to throw one hell of a party, and her over the top entrance confirmed it. She laughed and cheered along with others as she was carried in, and then realized that if she was going to be any sort of entertaining at this party a drink was probably a good idea. Thank god for an open bar. With a glass of wine in her hand Camille felt much better, and it wasn’t long before Jasmine appeared at the bar too. “Hey you!” She grinned, already feeling a bit excitable as she clinked their glasses together, “happy birthday! That was an interesting way to kick things off.”

Not one for giving speeches and drawing attention to herself, especially in the state she was currently in, Leah was happy to let Nell and the others pour accolades and love on Jasmine as she was carried into the party, grinning genuinely for the first time in a few days at the ridiculousness of it all. She looked down at her outfit, wondering if she’d managed to stop it from clashing with her new sling and cast and feeling unusually self conscious. She waved as Evelyn approached her, grabbing a beignet for herself and taking a bite. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a drink”, she said to Evelyn. “Can you drink…? With your… you know, allergies?”

Nell had already told Jasmine ‘Happy Birthday’ on multiple occasions, including when she’d shown up to help get the decorations in order— so she wasn’t all the intent on pushing through the mob to get to Jasmine at the moment. No doubt she’d make her way over there later, though. No. This was the time for powdered sugared pastries and...apparently Erin. Nell grinned up at the woman with little to no apologies, already stuffing one of the beignets into her mouth and swallowing before answering. But Erin was quick to snatch up the next one she’d had her eye on, “Hey! No, excuse you! That one’s mine- go get your own.” Nell wasn’t so proud so as not to swipe at the pastry Erin had stolen, doing her best to keep the mortician from actually eating it.

She gave another wave to Leah, grateful to recognize someone in this party besides Jasmine. Evelyn grinned. “Luckily, one can trust Jasmine to have excellent taste in alcohol, so I say absolutely.” She nodded at her friend’s next question. “I can. Well, most drinks. Can… you?” She remembered Leah mentioning issues with water, but wasn’t sure how that extended itself to other liquids. “Just perhaps not a margarita for me, but most other things work well.” She nodded. “Shall we?”

Nate shuffled himself a bit out of the way of the table to make room for anyone who wanted to grab a beignet or praline, mumbled out an ‘excuse me’ here and there. Nowadays he was far from the party animal he used to be, a man who once took up so much space at a gathering and dragged people out to the dance floor in droves. Now, he was hanging out by the food and trying to make himself as small as humanly possible, his fingers wrapped tightly around the glass of champagne he’d gotten when he came in.

Jasmine was more than happy to see Camille at the bar and was even happier that the woman had lived with Cece. New gal pals were always a win in her book and she was smiling ear to ear as she greeted her friend. “I’m so glad you made it,” she exclaimed, “And that dress looks amazing on you.” She laughed a bit at the comment on her entrance. What was a birthday without a grand entrance? Grand people deserved grand entrances. It was like the law… or something. “Thank you. I’ve always been of the go big or go home mentality. I’ll give credit where it’s due and note it was Nell’s idea. If you don’t know her, I’m sure you’ll meet her today. If anything she says sounds too crazy, she’s probably trolling you.”

Oz was not immune to a good party. More often than not, they invited chaos. Less often, they were decent opportunities to get information on targets, slip away into unguarded chambers for reconnaissance. He’d spent most of his week arguing with minor artists in the northeast, weighing their work against each other for a spot in the opening exhibition. It made him prickly and, worse, gave him little time to explore the town. Finally, he had time. Wandering through the cold streets, he drifted naturally towards the raucous music coming from Speakeasy, just in time to see a woman being carried in on a palanquin. Huh. Oz slipped in, searching for someone who’d actually been invited. There was a nervous-looking man standing by the food. Perfect. He plucked his own glass of champagne from another guest on the way over, and raised it to the man. “A toast to new friends.” Oz figured, if nothing else, he could have a bit of fun messing with this guy.

Leah nodded as well, happy to have a chance to explain a bit more to Evelyn. “I can, mostly everything. Just water is a no-go.” She thought about what Evenlyn said, nodding. No Margaritas, no salt. Evelyn had mentioned briefly that her skin reacted to salt, but this all but confirmed that the reactions were due to her supernatural status. That narrowed it down significantly. “We shall”, she grinned, popping the last bit of beignet into her mouth before they made their way over. She was determined to enjoy this night, injuries be damned. With the wall as her guide, she made her way over to the bar with Evelyn. “I do really need to treat you to lunch”, she said over her shoulder to the other woman. “It’s the least I can do after that… sizeable donation I received on Christmas. It’s too bad this is open bar, Evelyn, otherwise I’d insist on buying for you all night.”

Nate nearly jumped out of his skin when someone addressed him directly. He’d been perfectly fine standing like a wallflower, careful not to look at anyone too closely lest he see that they had horns or hooves or something equally as monstrous. He smiled at the man and raised his glass a bit, nodding in response to his cheers. “To new friends,” he managed before taking a long sip. Out of the corner of his eye, the newcomer seemed to ebb and flow out of his vision, but when he looked straight on, he was totally normal. Nate took a deep breath. Must be the champagne. “So uh...how do you know Jas?” Cutler was determined to show Jasmine that he had more than one formal outfit in his closet. He had two, to be precise - but she didn’t have to know that. He felt strangled and hot and was beginning to regret the skinny black tie, which hung short over a leafy tropical button up. His eyes were drawn away from the engrossing task of tugging and smoothing his tie by the eruption of cheers around him, followed by the entrance of Jasmine on the palanquin. The bottle of D'Autrefois Pinot Noir suddenly felt heavy at his side as it dawned on him that he was, once again, far out of his depth. She looked extravagant and expensive, as did the cake, the decorations, and everyone here. Probably-no,definitely-too busy to chat. His free hand was already gesturing abstractly in the air at the end of the bar as he thought, I’m not getting through this without a drink. A couple rubbing elbows away, he recognized Erin tussling over a beignet and made a mental note to find her if he needed a reason not to talk to the person he came here to see. Near him, someone mumbled a quiet excuse me and he straightened against the bar to make room for the passerby. “You’re good, man.” He nodded, giving a small smile of acknowledgement. Someone behind him was toasting, and he raised his glass in a pavlovian, robotic response. “New friends.” He echoed, swallowing his drink with professional flourish.

“That is good to know.” Evelyn nodded. “Yes, I just find that avoiding things like that is better.” Even if she still wasn’t entirely sure how she would react to salted items, it was easier to explain things that was versus explaining that she just couldn’t walk over salt lines. But that was something to discuss when it was just the two of them, and when they weren’t celebrating a dear friend’s birthday. “We will make a plan of it,” she offered Leah a gentle smile. “Besides, that donation was more than earned and was far less than you deserve. If it makes you feel better, you can order for me, how does that sound? Red wine is always a plus in my book.”

“You snooze you lose, kid--hey!” Erin laughed as Nell pawed at the macaron on it’s way to her mouth. She put her arm up, blocking off the shorter woman with just enough time to pop the treat into her mouth. “Get away, there’s like a hundred more!” She said, pointing to the table with a full mouth. She washed it down with the last sip of the champagne in her glass and grabbed a few more treats. There were more than a few familiar faces but she could see the woman of the hour from here. Grabbing a few treats in a napkin for the short walk, she headed towards the bar. “Happy Birthday, lady!” She greeted. “I’m pretty sure that was the most fabulous entrance I’ve ever seen in my life. Which, you know. Makes absolute sense considering…” she didn’t need to finish her sentence, just gestured towards Jasmine with a big grin.

“I can’t remember the last time I went to a party, which meant I had to come.” Camille smiled and sipped her wine, brushing a hand down the front of her dress. It was vaguely on theme- apparently purple was a mardi gras colour- which was good enough considering the small wardrobe she had to work with. “Thanks. Though I don’t look as good as you, obviously.” Her eyes strayed over to the food table, and the woman mentioned. “Oh, I think we’ve met.” Camille looked in thought for a moment, as if trying to remember her. Like she could forget. “Yeah… At a coffee shop. Just briefly, we nearly mixed up our orders.” She laughed, “she seemed nice. I’m sure she won’t say anything crazy- is that a habit of hers?”

Someone else had echoed Oz’s toast behind him, and Oz shifted his body just so, inviting the person into the conversation without explicitly acknowledging them. The wider a circle could get, the more it’d look like Oz belonged here. Oz grinned, all teeth. “I don’t, actually.” The man seemed to be avoiding his gaze. Oz was hot, but he’d never pushed a man (or otherwise, for that matter) from averting his eyes from his good looks. Did he know this man, somehow? Faces swam in his memory, but none matched with the person in front of him. He filed that information away, searching for a quick half-truth. “I’ve been looking for someone who does know her, but I’ve only found you.” Oz winked, taking a quick swig of his champagne. He shrugged, amicably. “It’s not a party if you’re not meeting new people, I say.” He tossed a quick grin to the man who’d joined in on the faux-toast. “Speaking of…” He held out his hand to the newcomer, another shark-wide grin. “Osric.” A wink over his shoulder to the shy man. “But you can both call me Oz, if you like.”

“You said it, not me,” Jasmine said with a small laugh to indicate she was in fact joking. It was one thing to call herself beautiful and another entirely to claim she was the most gorgeous person in the room… no matter how true it was. When Camille said she had already met Nell, Jasmine would have bet actual money that it was because Nell had trolled her on the internet. As it turned out, that wasn’t the case. “Oh, good! I’m glad to hear that. And let’s just say she has a penchant for messing with people. It can be highly amusing depending on who you are.” When Erin walked up to join them for a drink, she gave a welcoming wave and smile. “Erin, hey! Have you met my friend Camille?” She gestured to the lovely woman in purple standing beside her. “Thanks, it was Nell’s idea, but I think I pulled it off fabulously. Well, me and the attractive muscled men.”

Nell didn’t leave her crusade of taking back the pastry unfinished until Erin had finally and wholly eaten it, determined to make Erin regret taking the macaron that Nell had been eyeing at least a little bit. But as the other woman drifted towards Jasmine, Nell followed suit- but not before stacking an impressively sized tower of pastries into her tiny gremlin hands. “Happy Birthday!” Nell yelled at Jasmine for what was probably the third or fourth time that day. She’d only just caught the tail end of Jasmine’s conversation while walking up, and cocked her head to the side while catching her name. “Of course you pulled it off fabulously. The muscled men were just accessories, and we know it. You were the crown jewel.” With that she ate another of the many pastries in her hands whole.

Leaning against the bar for support, Leah’s eyes widened at Evelyn. “Please”, she chided, “That was more than enough. I don’t think we’ve ever had this much surplus in our budget before… it’s... incredible.” She thought on it, nodding. Evelyn’s idea would have to do, at least for now. The bartenders, for their part, worked quickly, and she handed Evelyn a glass of Pinot Noir, grining. “In honor of the birthday girl, …her favorite”, she said sipping on her own glass. “How do you know Jas?”, she wondered, watching Jasmine in her element. It was a relief that this party was going over so well. Jasmine, above almost everyone, deserved such an extravagant celebration.

She eyed Leah, a bit of a concerned look crossing her face. But whatever had happened to her, Evelyn wasn’t going to force her to say anything. She didn’t think that Leah was quite as private as she was, but she also didn’t want to pry too much. “Well, you and the library deserve it. So it was my pleasure. She took the glass from Leah, “and an excellent favorite it is, if I do say so myself.” She took a small sip before answering - first glancing over to where Jasmine was standing, before focusing back on Leah. “When I first moved here - well, it will be five years come April - she sold me my house. We got along quite well and I suppose just sort of naturally clicked. How about yourself?” She asked, tapping her fingers against the wine glass. Cutler hummed reciprocally, only half listening to the toaster in front of him. Behind his flowery words, he had a magnetic quality about him. He was attractive, sure, but this wasn’t something so tangible. Whatever was causing the third in their circle to avert his gaze was the same thing that held Cutler’s attention even as champagne bottles popped behind the bar and little pieces of gold confetti itched at his beard. “Oz.” He repeated, pumping their hand shake with a relaxed grip. “Cutler.” He took another sip of his drink and looked between the two men before deciding to weigh in on their conversation. “So, Oz. You don’t know Jasmine? Are you party crashing?” The last drops of his whisky crashed against the side of his glass as he set it on the bar and gestured for one more. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna rat you out. Friend.” He winked, imitating Oz’s earlier action.

Erin turned to the other woman with a bright smile. “I haven’t! Nice to meet you. I’m Erin,” she said before putting down her empty glass and plucking up a fresh flute. She felt only a little out of her element at the moment, surrounded by the glitz and glamour of the theme of the party, but it wasn’t a bad feeling at all. Jasmine’s excitement was downright infectious. “Oh, beautiful accessories. Good call,” she agreed. Glancing between Nell and Jasmine, she subtly pointed to one of those muscled men who’d carried her in. “Wait, isn’t that the same guy from your party, Nell?”

Nate stepped to the side again, widening his circle out of muscle memory. Luckily the new guy seemed totally normal too. He breathed a sigh of relief and continued to try and ignore the watery edges of the man who didn’t seem to know Jas at all. Not that he could blame the guy if he was crashing, this was probably going to be the event of the season. Not to mention Nate hadn’t always been invited to every party he’d been to. He smiled a bit more easily, though the guy - Oz - had something about his smile that made him feel like prey. “Nate,” he introduced himself to the two men before taking another long sip. “Definitely not a Hale party without new friends, that’s for sure.”

Camille returned the smile and sipped her drink, “It’s nice to meet you too, Erin.” She nudged Jasmine gently in the side, “we shouldn’t inflate her ego too much.” She teased, “I dread to think what mode of transportation she’ll manage to find next year when her birthday rolls around again.” Camille gave Nell what she hoped was a warm enough smile, despite the nerves that disturbed her at seeing the other woman again. This was a party, surely she wouldn’t say anything out of turn. Though Erin’s question served to distract her from that fear, “How have I never seen this guy before? He is like… The intimidating kind of hot.” She spoke in a hushed tone, so to not be overheard by said man.

“You’re too sweet”, Leah said with a shy grin, sipping more wine. It was going down easier than she expected, and that was saying something. She was determined to find a way to pay the woman back- along with Mercy and Arthur, too, one way or another. Her eyebrows raised in realization at Evelyn’s anecdote, and she nodded. “She meets so many people that way, it’s incredible. She sold me my house as well, but well… we met years before that. We’ve been best friends since we were kids”, she explained, smiling nostalgically. “Despite White Crest’s antics we’ve managed to stick together with another friend of ours for forever. It’d feel strange not to be in her life now, honestly.”

Another wide grin was on her face as Nell approached. Jasmine was grateful for how she pulled this whole shindig off. “Thank you, Nellie. And thank you for planning this perfect party. I don’t know how any of my future birthdays could ever top this.” She gestured around at the decor and crowd. They’d cross that bridge when they got to it. She laughed as Erin and Nell spoke and agreed, “My favorite kind of accessory. Think one of them knows how to cook and is down for being a trophy husband?” Jasmine looked over at who Erin was gesturing to. “Oh, Jack? He was at both Bea’s and Nell’s birthday parties. He’s pretty much a birthday staple at this point. A very, very hot birthday staple.” At the mention of her next mode of transportation, Jasmine giggled and took another sip of champagne. “I’m sure we’ll think of something to top this entrance for next year.” She gave Nell a playful nudge as she spoke. Maybe a magic carpet or like a Britney Spears “Baby One More Time” tour style of flying over the crowd. There was an amused grin on her face as Camille spoke of Jack. “Oh, he’s definitely super hot, but don’t let it be intimidating. He’s a nice guy. Plus, you’re also really hot. And a delight!”

“Oh yeah, that’s Jack!” Nell said brightly, giving another wave in the stripper’s direction. She was pretty sure Bea had brought him over for dinner sometimes at this point. “I think he’s Bea’s friend now.” Or maybe she was wrong. It was hard to keep track of things when she was under constant demon cult barrage. Nell’s gaze lingered a little too long on Camille, still having far too many questions when it came to the woman’s necromancy origins. Unfortunately, now wasn’t the place to ask them. “Oh, Jack’s not intimidating, really. He’s actually very sweet.” Sending Jasmine another grin, she rearranged her pile of pastries to make sure none of them fell. “I’m just glad I could help. You know I love makin’ parties. And I’m sure we’ll think of something for next year.”

Oz feigned a grimace at Cutler’s words, the back of his mind sparking with intent. It was always useful to start lacing webs of promises early, especially ones that had been lined up so neatly for him. “Ah, thanks friends.” Little too thick? Eh. “Promise you two will cover for me if things ever go south?” He shrugged amicably. “I’m new in town, and I’d like to avoid making enemies. For now.” Oz huffed out an awkward, fake laugh.

“Hardly - or, perhaps, selectively,” Evelyn sighed for a moment, though she kept a small smile on her face. Perhaps she was, if so many people kept insisting upon it. “I do suppose that a job like hers lends itself to that. She does manage it expertly, from what I can tell.” She was grateful to have met someone like Jasmine back then - in part because she didn’t judge Evelyn for being relatively young and able to pay for the house in full right to start, but also for the genuine feeling that their conversations had held, even from the beginning. Even though, as far as she knew, Jasmine was human. “She did? Well, she certainly has a way about the town, so that makes sense.” Her expression softened, and for a moment she glanced down at the floor. What was it like to have a friend since childhood? “That’s great! I’ve heard that can happen, if you have a friend for long enough. Becomes weird to imagine your life without them. I’m glad you two have one another,” she replied genuinely. Grabbing her phone for one moment, she took a photograph of her wine glass, sending a text to Miriam quickly before focusing back on her friend. “A friend could not make it, and so I told her I’d keep her updated on what is going on.” She provided as an explanation. “Does Jasmine try to throw parties like this for you, too? Or did she ever, in all your years of knowing one another?”

Nate nodded, absently picking up a few beignets to occupy his hands and mouth. It had been so long since he’d been to a party or around a bunch of guys that he’d nearly forgotten how to hold a conversation. His heart was hammering but he tried not to show it, instead focusing on what he could control. “Oh yeah, of course.” He glanced around the room full of laughter and drinking and dancing, wondering how anything could go south. “I’ll help you out in any way I can, enemies here are...well they’re not great to have.”

Cutler wasn’t sure if it was the drink or the infectious nature of the other man’s grin, but he felt compelled to agree. “Sure, I’ll cover for you. I don’t think you have much to worry about, though. Seems like an open-invite deal. Don’t see them cracking down on party crashers. Talk about a mood ruiner.” His eyes went from the beignets back up to the third man’s mouth, now stuffed. “Enemies?” Something at the back of his mind began to pulse nervously. All this talk of enemies and trouble, perhaps. “You guys make a lot of enemies? You’d level with me if you were planning something, right?”

Leah smiled softly at Evelyn’s explanation, reminding her of their previous conversation about emojis. “Some people like taking pictures of their food and drinks just for fun. As some sort of documentation, I suppose.” She shook her head at Evelyn’s question, taking another gulp of wine. “I think Jasmine and Bea- that’s our other friend-, I think they know I’d just about die if they subjected me to something like this. Too much attention, I think...I wouldn’t enjoy it at all. I prefer a quiet dinner with close friends, usually. Did you ever have big extravagant birthday parties?” She imagined she must have, coming from the childhood she did. Though she did remember her mentioning that she didn’t have any siblings, or many friends growing up since she never went to school. Leah hoped her question wasn’t insensitive.

Dave breathed in deeply as he took in the scenery, feeling distinctly out of place in his only mildly frayed shirt and cargo shorts, but that was what Jasmine had signed up for. As he inhaled, he caught the scent of a brackish pond, like someone had just been fishing and had fallen in or something. It was deeply familiar. He turned his attention over to a trio of men, where the smell was coming from, walking over. "Evenin' folks. Mind if I join? Don't know too many folks at this party." And most of them were young.

“A hot air balloon?” Camille chimed in with her idea, giggling as she took another sip from her glass. She turned her gaze back to Nell, “this is a really impressive party, by the way. Like, wow.” A compliment couldn’t hurt in making sure her secrets were kept for now, right? Plus it was true. Cam had organized a few parties for co-workers before but this was beyond anything she’d ever done. “Oh.” She waved a hand dismissively, “a delight I may be, but I can’t compete with abs like that. Not that- it’s still too soon for me to be thinking about guys and what have you, probably.” She thought of Carrington for a moment and tried not to blush, hiding her face with another gulp from her wine glass. “How do you two know Jasmine, then?” She asked, trying to steer the topic another way.

Nate’s eyes went wide. “Planning something? Here? Ohhh absolutely not,” he laughed, eyeing Jasmine. The idea of ruining her lavish party with some sort of prank or scheme was far beyond Nate, even in his prankster years. “Talk about making an enemy.” He tossed another beignet into his mouth. “No, more like...you peeve someone off and they leave strang packages on your doorstep for a month. Or blast music at all hours of the night. Or suddenly your car goes missing. Nothing super doom and gloom.” At least that’s what Nate had experienced, not that he ever made many enemies. He turned to the new addition and smiled, the expression freezing on his face when the man spoke. Needle sharp teeth extended from his gums where normal human teeth should have been. His words were friendly enough, but altogether ruined by the fact that he looked like Jaws had a baby with a person. “Y-yeah! The more the merrier!”

Oz masked a smile at the newcomer’s appearance, happy to be able to avoid any probing questions from Cutler’s direction. A tingle of power echoed the men’s words in the back of his head. “Absolutely! We were just having a conversation about how I didn’t know anybody at this party. My invite…” He let the sentence trail off. Whatever they’d construct was fine, especially given the promises. Nate, however, looked less than pleased at their new arrival. “The more the merrier,” he echoed. What was going on here…?

“I am trying to attempt to be some variation of with the times, I suppose.” Not that Evelyn figured Leah would mind too much - or at all - if she were not, but some part of her still found herself feeling a bit too out of touch at times. “I sort of had gathered as much. Quiet dinner, or a time spent with films or books, seems far more up your alley.” The name Bea sounded vaguely familiar to her, but she’d have to focus on that more later. “Oh, I have been part of many extravagant parties, birthdays absolutely included in that. My father threw me a party with about two thousand people… somehow… for my fourteenth birthday. I think he just wanted to show me off. I do not know where he found that many people and I spent most of my time to the side. I had other large parties, but that was the biggest. Since coming here, I have found that I sometimes prefer things more lowkey, I’d rather spend time with a few people I care about than many people I,” find boring, too human, and do not care for, “do not know. So I suppose things can change. I have nothing against attention, but I think finally having friends,” she shrugged, “gives a new perspective. I am glad Jasmine gets all this attention though, she deserves it.”

“Maybe getting carried out could just be your thing each year, you know? Just add a new spin to it. But always, always include the muscle men. I think that part goes without saying but I needed to emphasize it.” Erin glanced over at Nell’s pile of treats and snagged another one from her. Her grin brightened when she noticed Cutler across the way, and after wishing Jasmine another happy birthday, she excused herself and made her way over to the circle of guys loitering by the desserts. “Hey! I didn’t know you knew Jasmine,” she said upon approaching. “Looking snazzy, though. It’s good to see you!” Cutler glanced toward the newcomer, not expecting to have to cover for his new acquaintance quite so soon. He made another noncommittal grunt of agreement and nodded a chin toward him. “Not true, Oz. You know me.” He smiled, the half-truth only a little sour on his tongue. The predatory look on his accomplice’s face didn’t alleviate any of the discomfort that was beginning to turn his stomach. “Of course we don’t mind-” He was cut off by the appearance of Erin at his side, a welcome distraction. “Hey! You clean up nice yourself.” He lifted the wine bottle in his hand woefully and leaned in a little closer to be heard. “Only a little. I was going to give her this, but I..” He turned his head to see her, doting upon her loyal attendees. “...I think she’s busy.”

“I think you’re doing great, Evelyn. Blending right in!”. Leah smiled at Evelyn’s correct assumptions about her, finishing up her last few sips of wine. “You’ve already read me like a book, it seems”, she mused. She listened carefully as her friend told her another extravagant story about her childhood, this one just as interesting as the last she’d heard. “That sounds… incredible,... but perhaps a bit uncomfortable?” It seemed by the way she was describing it that Evelyn felt more like a trophy piece to her father than his daughter. “I’m glad, at least, that you’ve been able to establish more of your own rhythm in life. That’s perhaps the hardest part of coming into adulthood and separating from the people who raised you.” She thought for a moment, waiting a beat before speaking again. “But hey- m

“Hot air balloon sounds fun, but Erin may be right. Having the muscled men is really part of the appeal,” Jasmine joked. Well, maybe it wasn’t so much a joke as it was said jokingly. Almost instantly she was shaking her head, “You can compete with his abs. Don’t undersell yourself, you’re a catch.” She would take none of her friends not believing they shouldn’t shoot their shot. “And hey, if he’s not into it, he’s not into it. That’s a different story entirely though. Ask guys out on dates whenever it feels right for you.” While she was single herself, Jasmine liked to think she had a wealth of wisdom to provide on the subject of dating. Rule number one was always no mimes. Don’t trust anyone on Tinder in this town was a close second. That was how you became someone’s dinner. Decidedly not the type of snack anyone wanted to be. “Anyway, I think it’s time for a toast.” She took that moment to welcome herself onto the stage where the band was playing and clink her glass. “Everyone, I purpose a toast. To another year of thriving and happiness with some of the greatest people in town.” She raised her glass to the crowd before finishing off the flute of champagne. It was now time for dancing and she had the feeling one of the muscled men who carried her in would make for a perfect dancing partner.

#wickedswriting #birthday love #glitz & glam #camille #cutler #dave #erin #evelyn #jasmine #leah #nate #nell #oz

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gotmilk5101520 · 4 years

Text

Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia Watch Episode 9 Bittersweet Sixteen

Have a happy birthday Jim. Oh wait.

Suddenly in the sky.

“He looks like he's screaming" “He's excited" Excited for the day, am i right?

“No one should be alone on their birthday" I want to be alone for my birthday.

Jin Lake Jr. Age 16

“I think a bird or something tore away a piece of your drawing, Tobes”

“Ah, that was Aaarrrgghh. He thought the cake was real” The cake was a lie.

“It's not like I destroyed her house or anything”

“Oh, wait. It is”

“Have you thought about it? Telling her, i mean?”

"Not for another 3 episodes”

“Toby-Pie! Why is this box empty?”

“Ugh”

“Aaarrrgghh ate the kitty litter again” Again?

What did you put in those pancakes?

“I can't wait to cook you something with it” “Just promise me you won’t eat it” “Why would i eat it?”

“But, Jim, tonight”

“Celebration!”

I know that feeling all too well boys.

“Oh, my gosh. Was it the kitty litter?” Kitty litter makes you go crazy.

“Surprise!” How nice of some of the trolls to join in on the surprise.

“Happy birthing day, Master Jim!” Birthing day. That’s trolls call birthdays.

“The Hero's Forge!”

“Sacred proving grounds”

“For Trollhunters past, present, and future”

“Reduced to mockery”

Vendel the Party Pooper.

“And what better way to celebrate your birthing day”

“Than to work on forestalling your”

“Dying day” Assuming our dying day isn’t also our birthday.

“Master Jim does not appear to be himself”

“I expected the celebration of his birthing day to add some spring to his step”

“Birthdays really aren't Jim's thing”

“For creatures with such a short lifespan, i would think they would be cherished”

“Uh, not for Jim. They always reminded him of the day when his dad disappeared”

“Interesting”

“I did not know Jim's father was a magician” “Jimbo is convinced that he is”

“Mm, not "Magic" disappeared”

“More like "Walked out cause he's a deadbeat" disappeared”

“I'd just moved into the house across the street, and Jim's dad got him this sweet bike kit for his fifth birthday”

“And then, he just took off”

“The pieces laid there in the garage for years”

“Last i heard, the guy ran off with his girlfriend to be a ski bum in Vermont” I can relate to Jim. My dad walked out on me, my mom, and my sister, when i was baby. I never met him or anything so this kinda hits me even harder.

And no one sees it.

“All right, chief. You ready for your birthday gift?”

“Are we gonna sue someone?”

“Nah, that's next year's gift” Where are the fanfics where they celebrate Jim’s seventeenth birthday and they do sue someone? Who is the person they sue? Also Claire should be there wondering what the hell is happening.

And no one sees this thing flying in the sky.

“What the--?”

“What the heck! What was that?”

“Steve?” Suddenly Steve.

“This is really not a good time right now, Steve”

“Time for what?”

“Whatever! This, you!” “Is this cause of the whole Romeo and Juliet? I told you, and everyone before. I want to leave!”

And there he goes.

“Ah, Vendel! Just the troll we've been looking for”

“Don't stop looking on my account” Like i said before, Vendel is the most relatable character in the series.

“Easy on the scruff” NotEnrique’s scruff getting grabbed count: 1

Wait. How were they able to get NotEnrique? Shouldn’t he be at home? Has no one checked on him while he was in Trollmarket?

“You called me crazy, but who's the mad troll now”

“Huh?” Still you Blinky.

“Ey! I only came here cause you promised me socks to eat”

“And you'll get them”

“They better be argyle”

“And smelly” Blinky’s had it with him.

“Hole” Wait was that hole always there?

“You can trust the Trollhunter”

“In the face of the greatest danger, he will stand steadfast and gallant”

“WAAAGGGH!!!”

“WAHHHHHH!!!”

Or trip and fall.

So, instead of running away and giving them problems. He stays and sleeps.

Have some Jim is done with his birthday face.

“Stalklings are one of the only species of troll immune to the effects of sunlight” Wait you said “One of the only species” not “The only species” Yeah there’s also changelings, but what other species of trolls are immune to sunlight?

“That looks not nearly as scary as what attacked me” Never judge a book by it’s cover.

“Fear not, Master Jim”

“As long as you are not alone, you will be remain unharmed”

“You mean, i can't be alone for the rest of my life?”

“Is that a problem? You seem quite social” I’m not social. So if a stalkling comes after me, then i’m dead.

“I told him you became a monk and renounced all earthly possession, but he didn't believe me!” Monk Jim au.

“Claire! I... I thought you said you weren't ever gonna speak to me again”

“Actually, i said i hoped i'd never see you again. But then i realized something. First is that: I’m one of the main characters, so i have to see you everyday. And second: The thought of not seeing your cute face again was too much” “Wait, what was that last part?” “Nothing”

This image perfectly describes these three.

“The thing is, i asked around”

“I couldn't find a single person who was there”

“Be straight with me. What really happened?”

Claire’s getting more and more sus.

“What's she talking about?”

“Steve totaled his Vespa. He's got a concussion. And Miss. Janeth says he can’t be Romeo anymore” “I thought Steve would be happy about this” “Oh, he is. When called, he forgot to hang up and we heard screaming “YES! I’m finally free!”“

“Uh, okay, but I'm still confused” Me, after a new Kingdom Hearts game

“Forgive me!”

You two could’ve kissed here, but whatever you tried i guess.

And everyone continues to not see the stalkling.

“Hey, it's me. I have to stay a little late at the clinic”

“What?”

“But some knucklehead crashed his Vespa, and I have to work up the x-rays” Wait.

Oh, that knucklehead.

“Come on, Tobes. Pick up. Please, pick up!”

“You've reached the Toby phone!” He’s dead.

The one way to get us to stop playing video games.

“Sixteenth birthday, but do I get a Vespa? No”

“I get a food processor and a killer flying troll” The things we all want for our birthdays.

“For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command”

“Because I really, really don't want to die!” Didn’t need to say all that, but okay.

“If I go”

“We go!”

Jim survives that.

“This is why I hate birthdays” A birthday he wants to forget.

“This better not be another surprise because I really don't think I can handle any more” He’s done with all the surprises.

“These are the pieces of a 1955 Vespa!”

“Jim's dad got him this sweet bike kit for his fifth birthday”

“And then, he just took off”

“The pieces laid there in the garage for years”

“I thought perhaps one day we could build it together”

“After your training, of course”

“Thank you. Thank you!”

“This is the best gift I've ever gotten!”

“Oh, well”

*Cries in Troll*

“When is your birthing day?”

“Like I'd ever tell you, wingman” Uh. Toby, this is something we all would like to know.

No roller skates, mustaches, maces, sharks, bombs and poop. Okay. Weird, but okay.

*Talks in Troll*

“It is almost complete”

“And Gunmar will rise again”

“Baa-haa-haa-haa-haa!”

Hopefully Jim’s seventeenth birthday will be better.

I’m feeling a little crispy.

#trollhunters #milk watches trollhunters #tales of arcadia

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nattikay · 4 years

Text

Do you miss it?

Based on a prompt by @nb-demon in which Jim is “fixed” via a stone that allows him to shift forms like a changeling....except uh probably not exactly what you had in mind because hoo boy do I stand by the idea that troll!Jim does not need to be “fixed” whoop ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Ao3 link

Jim turned the smooth stone over in his hand. It shimmered lightly in a way not unlike the sheen of the blue stone in his amulet. The amulet that had changed his life forever when it called out his name nearly forty years ago.

“I’ve been…researching transformation magic,” Douxie the wizard had told him when he presented the stone. “Because of the way Merlin’s potion worked, it can never be truly reversed…but this should allow you to take a human appearance at your leisure. Like a changeling without the need for a familiar. In case…in case you miss it.”

“O-oh,” Jim had stammered as he accepted the gift, pocketing it gently. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t this. “T…thanks. That’s…really thoughtful of you.”

Douxie nodded. “I thought it was only fair. It took a long time to develop, but…I figured you should have the chance to choose the form in which you live without the threat of evil breathing down you neck. Let me know if you have any problems.”

And with that he simply left, off to take care of whatever business wizards do. Jim, too, had duties to tend to, and for the next few hours left the stone in the back of his pocket and mind.

That had been this morning. Now Jim was sitting alone in his home, perched on the lip of his bathtub as he carefully examined the magical stone.

Did he miss being human? He wasn’t sure. Sure, there were days—the particularly tough days that trollhunting lent itself to—when he yearned for the nostalgic days of his human childhood, racing bikes with Toby and eating dinner with his mom. But those days were so far behind him. So much had changed. He had changed—and not just in the obvious ‘I’m partially a different species’ way. He’d grown up, made new memories and experiences.

Jim glanced up into the mirror across the floor, studying his face. His features were a bit more mature—jaw stronger, shoulders broader, scruff thicker—but despite fast-approaching his 53rd birthday, he looked remarkably similar to how he had the day he defeated Gunmar. He supposed his troll half was responsible for that. Trolls, after all, generally lived for many centuries. He hadn’t asked many ages, but he knew that Blinky, at least, was over 600. Whether he would make it as long as a full-fledged troll, only time would tell—but it certainly seemed he’d outlive most humans.

Claire, too, no longer looked her age. When she began officially training in sorcery she had gained a wizard’s longevity. Though she certainly appeared more mature than the teenager she’d been when she first began to dabble in the magical world, no one would guess just by looking at her that she was really in her early 50s. In fact, when they were alone together, a part of Jim almost genuinely forgot their true ages.

Of the original trio, only Toby showed the true passage of time. He’d kept remarkably upbeat and positive as his ginger-brown hair grayed and his face wrinkled, but while their friendship remained true, Jim knew that this gap would continue to widen until one day it would reach a length he could not cross.

Jim’s brows furrowed. His heart ached to think of loosing his lifelong best friend to human age when he, as a half-troll, still had so much life left to live.

He glanced back down at the smooth stone in his hands. Did he miss being human?

Had he been presented with this opportunity before, he would have leaped at it. He had made the choice to go half-troll—with the imminent threat of Gunmar and Morgana, it had felt necessary. And, indeed, the improved strength, speed, and stamina he gained from it certainly helped win the battle.

But once the battle had been won? Well, there had been a lot to get used to. After a lifetime of barely even noticing whether or not the sun was out, suddenly needing to avoid it was a jarring adjustment. His entire palate and nutritional needs changed and his body both felt and looked so strange, so foreign. With the need for trollish strength and speed over, it would have been so much easier, so much more comfortable and familiar to revert to a human form, had it been possible.

But…

It had actually been years since Jim had to worry about the sun. As the Trollhunter he had access to a variety of stones he could add to his amulet to grant special abilities, including one that immunized him to the trollish sunlight weakness. It was still wise to be careful, and limit his time in the sun if and when possible, but nonetheless the workaround had been effective.

While he was no longer found enjoyment in some of his old favorite foods, he’s found new favorites. It had taken a fair while of experimenting to find the balance of his new palate, and now he couldn’t imagine not being able to eat his spiced metal-mouse stew that had taken Trollmarket by storm.

And his body…well, it had taken adjustments, but after a while he had come to accept it as it was. Claire had helped a lot with that.

Claire. Her love for him had not wavered for an instant, no matter what he looked like. In fact, he recalled her bashfully admitting not long after beginning their exodus to New Jersey, she rather liked his new appearance. Yes, she’d insisted, even the horns and the teeth and the blue skin.

This year would be their 35th wedding anniversary.

They’d even had children together, all four of whom had now grown and left the nest, but still visited frequently. They had been fully bracing themselves for the thought that this would not be possible—would a half-troll still be able to have a baby with a human, or would he be like a mule, unable to breed?

Finding out Claire was pregnant for the first time was one of the most exciting moments of his life…though even that could not compare to the day their daughter was born nine months later, looking surprisingly normal save for unusual pinkish coloration that never quite went away and the two tiny bumps on her little head that would later grow into stubby horns.

Jim turned the stone over in his hands again and again. His life had turned out pretty well, all things considered. Would it have been better if he were human?

This should allow you to take a human appearance at your leisure, Douxie had said. Like a changeling without the need for a familiar.

Like a changeling…so nothing permanent. He’d be able to switch back if he changed his mind. So what could be the harm in…trying?

Jim closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he focused on the magic in the stone. He felt himself shifting…

…and opened his eyes to see an older, startlingly human man staring back at him in the mirror.

Jim examined the appearance in shock. He hadn’t seen himself as a human since he was sixteen years old. Of course this form would look different now. Even still, seeing it for real…

He was about half a foot shorter than he’d been before, his dark hair grayed. He’d lost his scruff but kept his sideburns, as well a shadow of hair around his mouth and chin that suggested he ought to shave (unless he wanted to start growing the beard). His skin, though wrinkled, was soft and decidedly not blue.

He was surprised how strange and fragile he felt in this body. In fact, it almost felt as strange as that day he’d woken up on his mother’s couch as a half-troll for the first time…

With a start, Jim suddenly realized that at this point in his life, he’d spent more time as a half-troll than he had as a human. Being half-troll was more normal to him than being human.

“Jim!” a familiar call came from the front door as Claire walked into the underground house. “Are you home? Laura’s here to visit!”

Jim grinned, shaking his head lightly as he reached out to the magic in the stone, re-assuming his half-troll appearance.

“In here, I’ll be out in a minute,” he called back, leaving the stone on the sink as he left to greet his wife and youngest daughter.

No, his life had not been perfect. He’d gone through more than his share of hardships, both before and after finding the amulet, before and after turning half-troll. But it wasn’t without the happy times, either. Throughout all his challenges, he’d been surrounded by friends and family, love and support. Each obstacle he’d faced and overcome helped shape him into who he was today.

Despite the hardships, in the end, he was happy. His life didn’t need fixing. It merely needed living.

And if he could go back, he would’t change a thing.

#trollhunters #tales of arcadia #jim lake jr #troll jim #fanfic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#gotta go to aikido now so I don't have time to edit and therefore apologize in advance for typos and the like

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bad-at-names-and-faces · 4 years

Text

Decisions

Chapter 26 chapter index

Arendelle, September 23rd, 1864

Dear Henry,

I got your letter this week, and I would have replied several days ago, but I’ve been quite busy covering for my mother, who seems to have gone into hiding. All is well, so they tell me, and I really have no idea what's going on, but Frederick and I have been picking up the slack. When I saw Mother today she even wanted me to attend some of the meetings for her. This morning’s meeting will be with your Mr. Meyer, so perhaps you'll hear about it later. There's been some fuss about the naval pensions we pay to Corona, but it sounded like the issue was settled so I really don't know why my mother still seems to care. Oh, and one of our other ambassadors disappeared into the wilds of America.

I look forward to hearing more from you, and I'll write more when I have time again!

Sincerely,

Inga

Inga paused as she was addressing the letter. She looked outside and walked out to the balcony.

She looked around and whispered, "Gale?"

***

“It’s strange going so long without talking to anyone else,” Elizabeth remarked.

“We’ve had someone delivering food to us,” Lars reminded her.

“Oh, you know what I mean. But I suppose that delivery boy would have told us if anything exciting happened,” she sighed, resting her head on his chest. “He certainly was eager to tell us about the issue with the mislabeled fish at the market the other day. We weren’t even getting any fish!”

“I remember my mother telling a story about Father yelling at someone he had hired on his ship for trying to tell him he had caught a more expensive kind of fish,” Lars laughed a little.

“It’s so funny, back home, I was just wanting to hide away and find a quiet moment, and here I am, nervous that I’m missing something.”

“I understand,” he laughed. “I keep expecting Mr. Meyer to come through the door and ask me why I’m not ready for today’s meeting.”

“I think your brother is quite competent, in his own way,” Elizabeth laughed. “I suppose your mother enjoys having him around an extra week or two. I know Father was planning to sail off the day after our wedding.”

“She has been catching up with him, that’s true,” Lars smiled. “Do you mind that you won’t get to go with your mother and sisters? I know you haven’t seen your aunt in Wesselton in quite some time.”

“No, that’s not a problem, really,” Elizabeth sighed. “Mother isn’t particularly close to her, even, but it was Father’s next stop.”

“I remember Karl saying there were plans to take the Maldonian prince on to Wesselton if he didn’t decide to stay longer in Arendelle.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I can only think of one reason he wouldn’t be sure about how long he stays on here, and I’m pretty sure he’ll be sailing right on schedule.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard this gossip. What do you know?”

“Really, the only thing I’d really call gossip was from my own sisters,” Elizabeth grumbled. “I was half afraid that Inga would never want to talk to me again after my sisters were pestering her about getting engaged to Prince Henry. Inga didn’t even get a full day in Corona before those girls were making assumptions.”

It was Lars’s turn to laugh. “What did happen while you were there? I don’t think you finished telling me.”

“Well, I already told you what happened that first day, with the saddle,” she smiled, sitting up again. “Now, never speak a word of this to anyone else, but… I’m not surprised there were rumors the morning after that ball.”

Lars sat up and gave Elizabeth a puzzled look.

“Now, don’t get me wrong. As far as I know, Inga is technically correct,” she insisted. “There’s no engagement, or any official agreement, and I’d never want to be the source of rumors about that. I told my sisters to mind their own business. But… she and Prince Henry got along rather well, I thought, especially after the footman brought out the extra bottle of sherry.”

“What about you?” he asked with a teasing look.

“You know I can’t stand sherry,” she swatted him gently. “I think I was the only one there who stopped at wine with dinner.”

OoOoO

“Your Excellency,” Inga greeted Mr. Meyer as she entered the room.

“Your Highness,” he returned with a small bow.

“And…” she hesitated, “how should I greet Lieutenant Nilsen this week?”

“I think Lieutenant Nilsen will work,” the Ambassador chuckled. “We wouldn’t want too much confusion with his brother.”

“I don’t think there’s much risk of that,” Inga smiled politely.

The Lieutenant laughed. “Should we offer congratulations, Your Highness?”

“What?” Inga exclaimed, barely holding her temper. She didn’t want to sound defensive, but every question and insinuation reminded her how much of her life people considered their own business. “If there’s been an official announcement, I’d like to know.”

The Ambassador shot a glance at his temporary secretary. “Your Highness, you will excuse the lieutenant. He hasn’t had his brother’s training. There has, of course, been no announcement, official or otherwise, from either court.”

“Indeed,” Inga sighed. “May I ask where you heard this?”

“Sorry,” the lieutenant apologized sincerely. “Don’t blame my brother, or Elizabeth. Neither of them said a word, but I did hear her sisters talking at the reception, and nobody seemed to contradict them.” “I’m sure His Excellency will be sure to contradict any unsubstantiated rumors,” Inga said dryly, looking directly at the Ambassador.

“I assure you, Your Highness,” the Ambassador replied, almost sheepishly.

“Very well,” Inga replied. “We were going to discuss steamship service?”

***

“Anna, sending Lars? Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“If you can think of a better idea, let me know. The fact is, the actual requirements for the position of ambassador are almost nonexistent. The only time we didn’t bother refilling a position was when our ambassador to the Southern Isles conveniently left his post twenty-one years ago.”

“But does it have to be right away? They’ve been at war for how many years now? This doesn’t seem like the time to be sending someone over there, does it?”

“Is it the time to leave the position empty?”

“But him? Lars and Elizabeth are young, and I don’t know what the foreign newspapers are saying, but it doesn’t sound safe.”

“Then we don’t send him to the capital. It’s not like Arendelle has proper embassies anywhere.”

“What about the draft riots?”

“Those were last year. Things sound safe enough now… Well, away from the battles, of course, but he wouldn’t be drafted, since he would have diplomatic immunity.”

“Fine, what’s to stop him from taking a farm just like the last one?”

“And if he does?”

***

“Olaf?” Inga said as she approached the stables.

“Inga! Hi! What are you doing here?”

She glared a moment, then softened. “Have you seen Elsa?”

“No, why?”

“Well…” Inga paused. “Actually, I think maybe you could help me.”

“Okay! What?”

“This summer, you started telling us about the time that Papa was going rock climbing with the prince from Corona...”

“Yeah? And?”

“Prince Henry, in Corona, was telling me that Papa took his father to see the trolls because, well, everyone else was gone at Christmas. I don’t remember hearing about that before. Were you there?”

“Oh, the time Anna and Elsa and that princess from Corona were on that trip?”

“Yes.”

“I went to the North Mountain to see Marshmallow.”

“Oh,” Inga sighed. “And were Mama and Elsa really gone long?"

"No,” Olaf replied, matter-of-fact. “Elsa was back a few months earlier, and then she left again when that Eugene guy left."

“Wait, what? Where was my mother that whole time?”

“I think she was in Corona. She didn’t want to talk about it. You know, you’d think if she spent that long somewhere, she’d at least talk about it, don’t you?”

***

Frederick was expecting to see Peder and Anton waiting when he arrived for dinner. He was not expecting to see his parents there for the first time in five days, especially since he hadn't seen them when Elsa had left that morning.

“Mother? Father? You’re feeling better?”

“Yes, we’re fine,” his father replied, looking uneasily at Anna.

“I’m glad to hear it!” Frederick began excitedly. “When I was talking to Admiral Sorensen this morning, he said he thinks I could do a short training run in April.”

“Training run? With our Admiral?” his mother exclaimed, sounding panicked. “What’s this about?”

“Um,” Frederick muttered. “You said it would be fine when I asked.”

“Did I?” Anna looked at Kristoff. “Did we?”

“Yes, when I brought you that letter about the American Ambassador,” Frederick groaned.

“Are you sure?” Anna asked.

“I’m pretty sure you told me you were fine with it,” Frederick insisted, “unless you were talking about something else.”

Anna and Kristoff looked at each other. Frederick wished they would have told him before if they had a problem with the idea but he held back from complaining more. The admiral had been enthusiastic when Frederick had told him that his mother approved, and he knew that it wouldn’t look good for her to walk back on that.

“Oh, so, have you figured anything out with that?” Frederick asked.

“Figured out what?” Inga echoed as she walked in.

“The American Ambassador,” he reminded his sister.

“Of course,” Inga replied. “Do you have any idea what you’ll do about that, or are you just going to wait until they’re done fighting over there?”

“See?” Kristoff whispered a little too loudly to Anna.

Inga looked curiously between them, then raised her eyebrows at Frederick.

Anna spoke up. “I haven’t met with the council yet, and I’ll need to speak with Mr. Meyer, of course-”

“Why would you need to speak to Mr. Meyer?” Inga asked, then frowned. “Wait, he’d need to approve if you’re picking Lars? Why him, though?”

“He seemed like a good candidate,” Anna stated.

“We discussed it,” Kristoff added. “The timing might be an issue. We’d have to wait until a replacement arrives from Corona, at the very least.”

“Do you think Corona will even agree to it?” Frederick asked, “I mean, Lars is part of their diplomatic corps-”

“And he’ll have to agree,” Inga pointed out. “You can’t just send him off to a place like that. And what about his mother?”

Frederick nodded. “Really, wouldn’t it make more sense to ask if anyone in the council has a candidate? I mean, sure, his mother is from Arendelle, but that doesn’t seem like a good reason to pick him over someone else.”

“Well,” Anna said, biting her lip, “like I said, it’s not settled. So until it is, let’s drop the subject, and have dinner.”

***

Anna closed her eyes and knocked at the door on the guest wing. It opened slowly.

“Your Majesty!” Mrs. Nilsen exclaimed. “I wasn’t expecting a visit from you.”

“May I come in?” Anna whispered, trying to hide her nervousness.

“Of course!” Mrs. Nilsen stepped back to let Anna in, carefully closing the door behind her.

"Elsa told me," was all that Anna managed.

"I know," Mrs. Nilsen replied, offering a chair. "I was wondering whether you would come to me."

"I… I suppose I should say thank you," Anna sighed as she sat down.

"It never felt like a duty," the woman assured her. "He's always been a delightful child. Karl would have grown up very lonely otherwise, even if we had stayed in Arendelle."

“But you were… you were practically in exile for twenty years,” Anna said, looking away.

“They were very good to us. And I do understand why it had to be that way.”

“You do? I thought-”

“No,” Mrs. Nilsen confessed quickly, “nobody told me anything until your sister came to Corona last month, but it was obvious.”

“How much did you figure out?”

“I think I know everything,” she sighed. “And I have never spoken a word of it to anyone else, except your sister. I don’t think it would do anyone any good to know. When I was talking with your sister back in Corona last month, I…I mentioned him. I think you know who I mean. The look on her face, I knew I’d guessed correctly.”

“What… how did you guess?”

“I wasn’t always sure about it. But I kept up with news from Arendelle, and I read about your family here. I knew there had to be a reason. For several years I had prepared myself for someone to come claim him.”

Anna sighed and looked out the window for several minutes. She still didn’t feel comfortable talking about this, particularly with Mrs. Nilsen of all people. She hoped she was being completely honest about being happy with her life the last twenty years. Elsa had told her that Margit was planning to move back to Arendelle permanently, so Anna needed to bring up her plan before any official decisions were made.

“I need to ask another question.”

***

“Your Majesty, this is a most unusual choice.”

“Do you have any other suggestions, Your Grace?” she replied to the duke.

The council members mumbled quietly to each other. A few were gesturing, most ended up shrugging. There was some half whispered discussion of alternative candidates, but most agreed this was not where they would want to send friends and relations any time soon.

“He is very young,” one of the guild masters pointed out.

“I realize it is a bit unorthodox, perhaps? But he is qualified.”

They settled on her Majesty's proposal.�� Pending agreement from Corona, and the arrival of a replacement secretary for their ambassador, the council approved the nomination of Lars Nilsen for Arendelle’s Ambassador to America. The council decided to hold off on discussing where, exactly, to send him until a later date.

***

It was a cool morning in late September. Mr. Meyer looked at his diary. Today was the day his private secretary was to be returning from his honeymoon. He had been forced into granting him the leave. He looked out his window into the town. It was still early morning, and he imagined that the young couple would not want to leave until after breakfast. The young man’s brother had nice enough penmanship, but he seemed to have no sense of decorum. And now he had heard from his old friend on the council that he would need to find a new secretary. Lars Nilsen had some explaining to do.

***

Lars and Elizabeth returned to Arendelle just before lunchtime that Tuesday. The Ambassador was waiting for them just inside the castle gate. The couple were disappointed, but not surprised that Lars was being called back to his duties so quickly after their arrival.

“Your Excellency!” Lars called out as he walked towards Mr. Meyer.

“Mr. Nilsen, I need you to come with me,” Mr. Meyer said sternly.

“May my wife and I unpack first?” Lars asked, looking over at Elizabeth and smiling, feeling some satisfaction in being able to use those words.

Elizabeth smiled and walked over, taking his arm. “Your Excellency,” she greeted the Ambassador, who nodded in return.

“On second thought,” the Ambassador hemmed, “I think she may as well hear what I need to tell you. You can unpack later.”

They followed the Ambassador inside and up to his quarters. Once they were both inside, the Ambassador closed the door behind him.

“Mr. Nilsen,” he began with a sternness that went beyond his typical formality, “I had understood that you hadn’t learned very much about your family connections here.”

“That is true, sir,” Lars replied.

“And your mother, she hasn’t said anything since she arrived?”

“No, sir, she showed us the house where she used to live. It was a very tiny one by the harbor. She told me none of the men working by the docks were anyone she remembered, and nobody seemed to remember her. Halima did, a little bit, but she was, as I expected, a friendly acquaintance, and nothing more.”

“And,” the Ambassador probed, “the former queen…”

“I’m not sure, sir,” Lars responded with some confusion, not certain where his employer’s line of questioning was leading. “I’m only aware that she was acquainted with her."

"If I may," Elizabeth interrupted, "she paid several visits to Mrs. Nilsen's home in Corona. They seemed to be on familiar terms, as far as I could tell."

The Ambassador gave a sigh. "Well, perhaps that's it, then. Mr. Nilsen, I'll be honest, I don't understand why your mother has two different royal families interested in her family, and I'd say it was none of my business, except it looks like I'm going to need to find myself a new secretary now."

"Excuse me, sir?" Lars asked, trying to sound as calm as he could. Elizabeth grabbed his arm tightly looking at him with a worried expression.

"Queen Anna has approval from her council to make you the new ambassador to America."

"But…" Lars trailed off, trying to make sense of the news. He looked at Elizabeth, whose worry had transformed almost immediately into confusion.

"You can decline, of course," the Ambassador reminded him. "It might be awkward, naturally, as rejecting this kind of honor isn't something to be taken lightly."

***

Inga once again managed to get the most recent letter from Corona out of the stack of mail before anyone else saw it. She looked at the date: it had been a week and a half. She sighed.

Corona, September 24th, 1864

Dear Inga,

I’m not sure how I got your last letter so quickly. I’m sure you’ll tell me at some point, but you don’t have to now. I hope your meeting went well. And please tell me more of the story about your ambassador in America, it sounds interesting!

I haven’t been particularly useful here. We sit in on the meetings, but there really isn’t much to talk about. They want to send us on tour, me and Hilde, I mean. I’ll make sure we visit Arendelle, if they’re serious about it, but they don’t even know if it will be this year or next year, so who knows.

Sincerely,

Henry

P.S. I’m still waiting for a recent picture of you!

After fetching a piece of paper to reply, she found a copy of the family’s recent photograph. That would have to do, even if it wasn’t just herself, which she had the feeling would have been more to his liking.

Arendelle, October 8th, 1864

Dear Henry,

I’m happy to hear my letter got there so quickly! I hope I can explain it to you at some point.

I’m going to go ahead and send you the family portrait we had a photographer take right after I got back to Arendelle last month. I ended up holding my baby sister for this one, but believe me, it’s not as bad as it could have been. As far as the situation with the ambassador, I don’t know much more about what happened to the old one. Since I’m not sure if anyone besides you will be reading this letter, I can’t say too much about who was picked to be the new one until you officially hear about it. I don’t understand the choice, and I don’t know if your mother will be upset by this, too.

Tonight we have a ball for the Prince of Maldonia, who will be ending his visit this weekend. I’ll be very relieved to see him gone, and I’m sure he is very disappointed with me.

Sincerely,

Inga

Inga walked out to the balcony, looking around to see if anyone was nearby.

“Gale?”

#my fic #kristanna #chapter 26 #frozen fic #frozen fanfic

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lovelessmako · 4 years

Text

Ve Chapter 6

The one where they meet!

The first thing Kivet noticed when he approached the town was a large crowd with the sound of clanging coins coming from the center. Upon getting closer, he was able to see a young woman in the center, scantily dressed in clothes adorned with beads and other noisey items. They clinked together as she danced in a fluid motion around the makeshift stage. Upon first inspection, she was a basic Troll. Blue skin and large horns. What gained his attention, however, was a pair of large speckled wings upon her back. Only Ve had wings upon their back; harpies had theirs connected to their arms. Ve had been known to take the form of other species in order to blend in, but they usually kept their wings showing out of pride. This woman must've been the Ve that the Dyrad had told him about. She caught his eye and smirked. He continued to watch until she finished her hypnotic dance. She smiled to the crowd, flashing her sharp teeth, and walked around collecting coins from her fans.

She turned back to Kivet and smoothly walked over to him.

"Ve." She spoke gently, like a relived mother. "I haven't seen a living Ve in quite some time."

"I've encountered many fallen as well." He wasn't sure why she was speaking aloud but assumed it was simply habit and did the same.

"You're too late."

He froze, "too late for what?"

"The Duke. You're here to kill him, correct?"

She noticed his shocked expression and let out a small laugh. "Why else would a Ve be here?"

She had a point, "so he ran?"

"Oh no, I got him. Nobility aren't that great at fighting. Only took about an hour to break in and off him."

He was impressed, beautiful and strong; everything a Ve could want in a woman. Was he swooning? He felt like he was swooning. The Troll features weren't ideal, but they likely helped her to earn more money among the locals. The light blue etchings around her skin formed what he knew to be called tears as well as a crown. The crown marking was something that only Troll nobility had and he was even more impressed that she was able to replicate the three half circles. Down her arms were swirls of markings he didn't know the name of, and even her stomach was littered in swipes. It was like a master painter, proud of her work.

"You're staring at me."

He hadn't realized that he was making her uncomfortable."nice uh," he gestured vaguely at her, "art."

She laughed, a dark hearty sound, "are you calling me art?" After a minute she took pity on his stuttering. "You know, I had a lot of fun taking on that duke. How about a friendly competition? We both take on another target and whoever kills them first wins?"

She actually LIKED killing?! Just what had he gotten himself into? "I dont normally go after targets. I mostly just get rid of random mutts I come across."

She wrinkled her nose in thought, "that could be fun. More of a challenge to find people...and won't know what to expect...very well!" Her teeth glistened dangerously as you made her decision, "I accept those terms."

It didn't take long for the girl, Kivet realized he still didn't know her name, to find a target. She walked along, seductively, putting slightly more than neccessary emphasis on the movement of her hips as she walked with her shoulders back as to draw more attention to her chest. A chest that Kivet embarrassingly realized could be seen through the thin fabric. The victim was an intoxicated human that had come to flirt with her. Kivet watched in shock as she rubbed against him in a sinful manner, letting out small moans when he grabbed her back. While he was distracted with her breasts, she brought a hand to his neck and jammed what appeared to be a letter opener into the flesh there before quickly pulling it back out.

"You bitch!" She yelped, suprised to see that she didn't succeed. Didn't she know that neck injuries had to be precise? Humans have been known to live upwards of 20 minutes after a wound like that. And, while force was applied, the blade was too dull to do any real damage so long as the human managed to stop the bleeding. The human swung at her and she quickly turned to smoke to avoid the blow. Both parties appeared very confused by the ability and Kivet cursed the academy she had went to for not teaching her about such a basic skill.

Kivet ran forward to grab the human's shoulder and recieved an elbow to the nose as punishment. The distraction gave her an opportunity to slam her head into their's, knocking them out and to the ground. All in all a messy situation that gained a lot of attention. Kivet sidestepped the unconcious man and laced the fingers of one hand with those of the stumbling and stunned woman, using his other hand to try and cull the blood from his own nose.

Nobody in the crowd stepped forward but Kivet caught a shouted "fucking whore" and made a mental note to come back for the man later.

Once they were out of ear and eyeshot, Kivet snapped, the area around him turning shadowy as the grass under his feet quickly turned brown. "What did you think you were doing?!"

She flinched and yanked her hand back, "I read it in a book..."

"Back. Of. The. Neck! At the base of the skull. And not with something so dull. And intoxicated people are the WORST targets. They have some kind of immunity to most physical attacks. You should've learned that in Academy!" He softens seeing how she was refusing to meet his eyes. She mumbled something. "Out with it then."

"I said I never went to Academy..."

"But it's the law! Everyone has to go! Your parents should've signed you up at 15."

"They died when I was a baby. I was raised by humans. Until a few years ago that is, then it was a Golem." It was against the law to interact with a Ve unless absolutely necessary. Still, she was alive because of them. "No other family either," she continued, "other than siblings."

"If you didn't receive the proper training then why are you fighting? You could get hurt."

She huffed, trying to save face by acting annoyed. "That Golem owned me for years. I want to fight. To feel strong for once."

"Owned?" Rage started to bubble up. Humans were fucked up creatures but surely they wouldn't sell someone they were tasked with raising.

"I don't want to talk about it. Let's just focus on our next target."

"I...never got your name." It was stupid of him to not ask earlier.

She seemed suprised as if she had only just realized it herself. "Is..Isaac."

It sounded off to Kivet but perhaps it was simply a human name. "Kivet of the Broknsawv clan. What is your clan, Isaac?"

"I uh..I don't know." She didn't even know her clan?! This poor woman.

"That's alright. We can figure it out together."

"Wait!" She seemed excited, "I'm coming with you? Even after I fucked up!?"

"Of course. What kind of jerk would I be to leave you here? Besides, you still have to show me how you took down that noble and his guards."

#monster boy #gay monsters #tw death #shadow demon #shadow creature #monster boyfriend #original story

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aidanchaser · 4 years

Text

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero, @magic713m, @ccboomer, @aubsenroute, @somebodyswatson

Chapter Thirty The White Tomb

Harry stood in the hallway of the seventh floor corridor, in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, as he had so many times that year. Except this time, he knew exactly what he needed to say to get into the Room of Requirement.

“I need the place where everything is hidden,” he repeated to himself as he paced the corridor. He did not know what the black cat at his feet was thinking as it followed him back and forth, but the Room of Requirement seemed immune to confusion. The stone parted for a small door, the same door Harry had entered to hide his Potions book.

He opened it, and the cat hurried inside. Harry followed, and as soon as he had closed the door, the cat was gone.

Regulus Black brushed dirt from the sleeve of his robe. “Where to?” he asked.

Harry did not say anything, but he gestured down one of the aisles. He and Regulus passed the large stuffed troll, and he turned, heading towards where the Vanishing Cabinet had once stood. He did not know what McGonagall had done with the Cabinet, but she had had it removed from the grounds as soon as her meeting with the Ministry had ended. Harry searched the aisles nearby for the cupboard that he had used to hide the Half-Blood Prince’s book.

“You really think Voldemort hid a Horcrux in here?” Regulus asked.

“I think he would have wanted to hide it in the Chamber of Secrets, but this is closer to Dumbledore’s office. And I can’t think of any other reason he came to interview for a job he knew he wouldn’t get.”

“Dumbledore thought he wanted the sword.”

Harry swallowed hard. “Well, he has it now.”

He wondered where that left them in the hunt for Horcruxes. Not only was he unsure how to destroy the Horcruxes without the Sword of Godric Gryffindor, he did not know what he would do if Voldemort were to make the sword into another Horcrux.

Harry rounded a corner and at the end of the makeshift aisle he saw the acid-burned cabinet, with a pock-marked wizard’s bust atop it, decorated in a wig and a tiara. It was nearly identical to the circlet that Rowena Ravenclaw’s statue in Ravenclaw Tower wore.

“There,” Harry pointed, and climbed up onto the cabinet to retrieve the diadem.

The silver was tarnished, but the shape of the circlet and the arch of the eagle’s wings were identical to what Harry had seen on Ravenclaw’s statue. If it was not the real diadem, it was an excellent replica. He ran his thumb over the words engraved into the band.

Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.

Harry climbed down from the cabinet and handed the diadem to Regulus.

“How do we know if it’s real?” Harry asked.

Regulus turned it over in his hands. “I’m not sure. I suppose we could put it on.”

Harry did not have the patience for Regulus’ dry sense of humour, not with Dumbledore’s funeral in just a few hours. “Don’t you have any useful ideas?”

“My excursion into Horcrux hunting should have killed me, and I only survived by chance. I gave Dumbledore the locket because I was at a loss of how to destroy it. So no, I don’t have any useful ideas. I’m afraid we’ll just have to hold onto this diadem and hope we find a way to destroy it.”

Harry set the diadem on the ground and backed away from it. He fired off a series of Blasting Curses, Severing Charms, and even the Fire-Making Spell. The diadem bounced around on the floor, crashing into flagstones and broken furniture, but it did not crack nor bend nor even chip. Harry retrieved it.

“It’s durable enough to be a Horcrux,” he said, and slipped it into his dress robes.

“If it truly is one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes,” said Regulus, “then the cup and the snake are all that’s left.”

“I don’t even know where to start looking…” Harry ran his hand through his hair and gazed at the Room of Requirement. “You don’t suppose we’re lucky enough that he hid both in here?”

“No, I don’t suppose we could get that lucky.”

Harry sighed, and started the walk through the piles of lost objects and back to the corridor. “That’s just as well. I’m not coming back to Hogwarts.”

This information did not surprise Regulus, but nothing seemed to surprise Regulus.

“It would be unwise of you to run off before the Trace is lifted.”

“I know. I’ll wait until then. And after that… I don’t suppose you know where Dumbledore was looking.”

“Last he said to me was Paris, but I think Dumbledore decided that the city was not important enough to the Dark Lord after all. He was convinced that, despite the Dark Lord’s international travels during his rise to power, England was always his beginning, the place he first discovered the world of magic. It would be the most important to him.”

“Glad we’ve narrowed it down to that. Shouldn’t be too hard, then.”

Regulus’ lips twitched in what was probably a smile. “You plan to search alone, then?”

“Yeah. Unless you’re coming with me.”

Regulus hesitated for so long that Harry glanced behind him to make sure Regulus had not shifted back into a cat, but Regulus the human still trailed after him.

Finally, Regulus said, “Dumbledore gave me another task before he died, one I will have to carry out alone. But I thought you might ask Cedric Diggory, or one of your other friends, to join you.”

Harry had no intention of putting Cedric, Ron, Hermione, Neville, or Ginny in any more danger than he already had. “I hadn’t thought about it,” he lied. “What could Dumbledore have asked you to do that’s more important than finding the Horcruxes?”

Regulus did not answer, and this time, when Harry looked back, there was a black cat trailing after him. Harry thought, if nothing else, being an Animagus made it very easy to get out of unwelcome conversations.

Harry walked down to the Great Hall. He had no interest in leaving the diadem unattended in his trunk for the day, and went straight to what would traditionally have been an exuberant end of the year feast. Regulus followed, at least until he reached the doors of the Hall, where he sat down and watched.

Everyone in the Great Hall was wearing dress robes, like Harry. The banners that hung between the windows did not sport house colours; instead, they were solid black. The four house tables, too, had been removed, and in their place, one long table filled the hall. Many students had been taken home by their parents, and so the remaining Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Gryffindor students gathered for their final meal together at a single table. Overhead, candles drifted in a gloomy sky, even though bright summmer sunlight streamed through the windows. It was as if the castle itself was grieving.

Harry walked past Crabbe and Goyle, sitting close to each other and muttering. It was strange to see them without Malfoy, but Harry was not surprised that they had been kept in the dark about Malfoy’s plan. They both glared at him as he passed, but Harry was unbothered.

Cho Chang was not much farther down, seated in a cluster of Ravenclaw students. She made eye contact with Harry, the first eye contact they had made all year. Harry knew she was only here after a fight with her parents in which she had insisted on staying for Dumbledore’s funeral, though it had not been quite as loud as the fight Seamus had had with his mother when he had insisted on staying for the funeral.

Seamus and Dean sat together, next to Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot. Neville, fresh from the hospital wing, waved at Harry. His arm was still in a sling, and there was still bruising around his eye from the curse that had knocked him unconscious. Ron and Hermione were nearby, as well as Ginny and Luna. Luna saw Harry coming and got to her feet so Harry could sit by Ginny.

“Luna, you don’t —”

“It’s alright, Harry,” Luna said. She smiled in her usual dreamy sort of way. Somehow, her smile did not feel out of place at this somber event. She patted his arm as she passed him, and slipped into a seat near a group of Ravenclaw girls. Harry sat next to Ginny. She kissed his cheek and put her hand in his.

Harry looked down at their clasped hands, thinking about what he still had to tell her, what he had to make sure she knew before they left Hogwarts…

“Did you get it?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded.

“Do you think it’s really…?” Neville did not need to finish his question; Harry understood.

“Can’t be sure, but I threw a dozen curses at it, and it’s held up.”

Hermione pushed some of her food around on her plate. It did not look like she had eaten any of it. “I wish we could use the diadem. Some wisdom on how to destroy it would be nice.”

“Putting on that ring nearly killed Dumbledore,” Harry said. “And if he hadn’t, then maybe…”

“I know, I know,” Hermione said, “it was just wishful thinking.”

Ginny put her other hand on his wrist, and he realised how tightly he was holding onto her. He loosened his grip, but instead of pulling away, she just laced her fingers between his.

At the staff table, Professor McGonagall — Headmistress McGonagall — had left the centre seat empty. She sat to the right instead. Harry did not see Hagrid, but he did not blame Hagrid for being unable to attend this breakfast. In his place sat Madame Maxime, who had arrived the day before in her Abraxan winged horse-drawn carriage. Snape was of course gone, unable to be found by the Ministry. In his place sat Rufus Scrimgeour, and not far from him was a collection of Ministry delegates. This included Percy Weasley, Cedric Diggory, and a young man with blonde hair that Harry vaguely remembered as a former Gryffindor Prefect. The Longbottoms and Kingsley Shacklebolt stood in the wings, present as both mourners and guards.

McGonagall stood, and the quiet conversations around the Hall ceased as readily as they always had for Dumbledore.

“It is nearly time,” she said. “Please follow your Heads of Houses out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me.”

The mixed crowd split into their respective houses. Slughorn, wearing emerald green robes with detailed silver embroidery that seemed to dance on the fabric, led the Slytherins out first. Behind him went Professor Sprout, who was wearing the cleanest robes Harry had ever seen her in, with no visible patches. Flitwick was in a black suit and tie, which Harry thought odd. He knew Flitwick supposedly had goblin in his family, but he did not know Flitwick also had Muggle family.

Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Neville followed McGonagall. She wore fine black robes, and a ruby broach at her throat. Harry’s parents had sent him similar dress robes: simple, with the only extravagant detail in the black-on-black embroidery along the edges. Ron had the robes Fred and George had bought for him when they had opened their shop, and Hermione had chosen to wear a simple black Muggle dress. She kept her hair pinned away from her face, but she had not worked to Charm it flat as she had for the Yule Ball. Her lip trembled as they stepped out onto the grounds, but like McGonagall, Hermione seemed determined to appear strong. Neville’s dress robes were similar to Harry’s, and Ginny’s black robes were cut untraditionally, so that they flared at the hips and were open in the front, revealing the trousers she wore underneath. It was respectful and disreputable enough that Harry thought it suited her perfectly.

As they passed through the doors leading into the Great Hall, the patient black cat trotted alongside Harry and Ginny.

The procession continued down to the edge of the Black Lake. There were hundreds of chairs set up along its shore, all facing a white marble slab. The sun reflected off of it, and Harry had to shield his eyes and look away. A crowd had gathered at the castle gates. Ministry officials stood on either side, checking every mourner for Dark objects or other dangerous items. Harry recognised a number of the wizards who entered.

There were the Order of the Phoenix members: Mad-Eye Moody, Evangeline Vance, the Longbottoms, Fabian and Gideon Prewett, along with the rest of the Weasleys, from Molly and Arthur to Fred and George; Bill was there, mostly recovered, but supported by Fleur Delacour on one side and Charlie Weasley on the other; Arabella Figg, Dedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones, and even Mundungus Fletcher followed. Tonks and Remus were not far behind. Harry thought Tonks looked much more like herself — her face was round and her hair was once again its usual pink, but her eyes were soft and green. Harry thought they didn’t quite look like her, though there was something familiar about them. He realised why when he saw that she and Remus were holding hands.

Harry searched anxiously for Sirius, and found him only a few paces from Tonks and Remus. He wore a Muggle waistcoat and tie, as did a few of the mourners. The black cat left the crowd of students and hurried to Sirius’ side.

Behind Sirius walked James and Lily. They were whispering furiously to each other, and Harry wasn’t sure why, until he followed his mother’s glare to a cluster of Ministry officials, led by a stout woman with a black velvet bow in her hair. Harry’s stomach lurched in anger and it took all he had to not reach for his wand and curse her from where he stood, but McGonagall ushered him into a chair and he was forced to turn away and take a seat.

But it was not just wizards, earnestly or otherwise, who came to mourn Dumbledore. An eerie music, mournful, but unlike Fawkes’ melody, filled the air. Harry was unsure where it was coming from until Ginny pointed to the Black Lake. Just beneath the surface of the water he could make out the shapes of the merpeople, singing in their language to mourn Dumbledore’s passing. It was eerie and raised the hair on the back of his neck, but Harry trusted that their sorrow, at least, was genuine.

And then he heard a girlish giggle that filled his entire body with anger, not unlike the anger he had felt chasing Snape down the steps of the castle. He turned swiftly to see an embarrassed looking Umbridge attempting to dab her eyes and look sorrowful, but her façade was interrupted by another giggle and a hiccup. She no longer looked mournful — she looked mortified. Another giggle passed her lips, louder than the last, and she seemed unable to control it. When it happened a fourth time, she stood up and excused herself, but it seemed there was another uncontrollable giggle for every mourner she had to pass, until she had left the gathering entirely.

Harry found James and Sirius not far behind where she had been sitting, looking rather pleased with themselves. He caught a glimpse of Sirius slipping his wand up his sleeve, and he had a feeling if he were to use Priori Incantato on Sirius’ wand or his father’s wand, he would find that the last spell they had used had been the Tickling Charm. Lily was doing a very good job of pretending not to notice them, but he saw her hand slide into James’ and squeeze it gently.

Ginny nudged him, and he turned at her direction towards the back of the gathering. Harry’s heart leapt into his throat and tears filled his eyes. Coming up the aisle, now that everyone had been seated, was Hagrid. His face was red and puffy from crying, and in his arms he carried a large bundle, wrapped in purple velvet, spangled in gold. He squeezed Ginny’s hand and she squeezed back. He felt a few of her tears fall onto his hand. Hermione, too, had given in to her tears, and her cheeks were as streaked as Hagrid’s. Neville was crying and sniffling into a handkerchief. Ron sat up very straight, and was incredibly pale as he watched Hagrid place Dumbledore’s body on the white marble table.

Hagrid retreated, blowing his nose loudly into a handkerchief as he did so. He made his way to the back of the gathering to stand beside Grawp, his Giant brother, who had been dressed in an enormous pair of trousers and a jacket. Grawp patted Hagrid on the head as Hagrid sat down.

At the forest’s edge, Harry saw movement in the shade of the trees. He squinted, and was able to make out the centaurs, listening to the eulogy. The edge of the Black Lake rippled as the merpeople, too, lifted their heads above the surface to hear how Dumbledore would be remembered.

A small wizard stood from a chair in the front row and began to speak. He had a gentle voice, musical, vastly different from the dramatic eulogy Slughorn had offered Aragog a few months ago. The sound was pleasant, but Harry could not hear the speech well through the hundreds gathered, many of them crying quietly. He caught a few odd words, “Nobility of spirit” … “intellectual contribution” … “greatness of heart” … All things that spoke to the hero Dumbledore would be remembered as, but none that spoke to the professor that Harry had known. He did not see Dumbledore as the man who had dueled Grindelwald and Voldemort and won; he saw Dumbledore as a soft-spoken teacher, who had listened when Harry was concerned, who had taught Harry the value of love, and who had trusted Harry to finish this war.

Harry touched the diadem hidden in his dress robes. He would have to find a way to destroy it, a way to end this without dying himself, and without letting anyone else die to protect him. He knew that the Wizarding world had lost a great symbol of strength, a pillar in the fight against Darkness, but Harry had lost a teacher and protector. Even his parents, try as they might, could not protect him from this fight. And they had tried so hard. They had shielded him at every turn they could, and it had not been enough. Voldemort had returned, and Dumbledore had died, and Harry was left to face Voldemort. Whether he accepted the title of “The Chosen One” or not, the new symbol of strength in the fight against Voldemort was, for all the people at this funeral, truly him.

The small officiate finished his speech and returned to his seat. Harry looked around, wondering who else would get up and speak. He expected the Minister, but Harry didn’t care what the Minister had to say. He thought it would be nice to hear from McGonagall, but she did not rise. No one did.

And then the table erupted into bright blue flame. A few of the mourners screamed, startled as the fire rose higher and higher, and strange shapes twisted in the smoke. Harry saw, hidden in the flame and smoke, the shape of a phoenix, and then the fire was gone, replaced by a white marble tomb, sealing Dumbledore’s body.

A shower of arrows fired from the treeline, but did not come close to reaching the crowd. As they struck the earth, each one flashed gold, Then the centaurs disappeared into the forest. The merpeople returned to the lake. The mourners began to stand.

Harry turned to Ginny, knowing this was their last moment together, before they each returned home with their parents. He would have to tell her his plan. She pulled her gaze from the white stone coffin and he knew from the hard look in her eyes that she already knew what he was going to say.

“Ginny, I…”

“Don’t,” she said sharply.

“How do you know —”

“You're going to tell me we can't be together because you have to go after Voldemort, and I don't want to hear it.”

“No.” Harry mentally revised what he had been planning to say. “I mean, I want to tell you that, but I won’t.”

“Good.”

“But you know I have to leave, right? I don’t want to put you in danger —”

“It’s a war, Harry. We’re all in danger.”

Harry ran his hand through his hair. “Okay, but I don’t know how long this will take. I can’t ask you to wait for me to be done fighting Voldemort.”

“I’ll only have to wait a year.”

“What?”

“Because then I won’t have the Trace anymore, and I can join you.”

Harry shook his head. “No, I’m doing this alone —”

She laughed. It was not joyous, but it was a bit out of place for a funeral, and a few wrinkled heads turned to glare at her. She did not seem to mind. “Hey, Ron,” she said.

Ron leaned against the chair in front of him and looked back at Ginny. “What?”

“Harry thinks he’s going off to find you-know-whats alone.”

“Fat chance, mate,” said Ron. “Besides, you think you’d last without Hermione? We’re both coming with you.”

Hermione turned to Harry, even as she wiped tears from her cheeks. “You can’t —” She paused to let out sob. “You can’t get rid of us, Harry.”

Harry let out a slow, deep breath and begrudgingly remembered how stubborn and loyal his friends were. He would not stop trying to dissuade them, but he was not sure that his efforts would be especially effective.

“Neville?” Harry said. “You’re being quiet.”

Neville was still staring at Dumbledore’s tomb. Harry imagined that squinting against the bright sunlight had to be painful with his swollen eye, but Neville did not seem bothered. Finally, he said, “No, I don’t think I’ll go.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry said quickly. “No one should go.”

“No,” Neville said again, “I think Ron and Hermione should go. And Ginny and I can join you next year. But I want to stay at Hogwarts. I think… I think with Dumbledore gone, someone’s going to have to be here. You’re the Chosen One, Harry, and you’ve got to fight Voldemort, but I think I want to stay and fight for Hogwarts.”

Harry frowned. “But McGonagall…” but he did not need to finish his thought out loud. McGonagall was not Dumbledore. If Voldemort had asked Malfoy and Snape to kill Dumbledore, then Voldemort must have some faith that he could gain control over both the Ministry and Hogwarts. Neville had just been quicker to figure that out.

Harry reached into the pocket of his dress robes and pulled out the familiar piece of blank, worn parchment that he carried on him at all times. He passed it to Neville. “Then you take the map,” he said. “You’ll need it if you’re going to lead Dumbledore’s Army.”

Fat tears rolled off Neville’s cheeks and barely missed the worn map. He scrubbed at his face quickly. “Th-thanks, Harry. I promise I’ll give it back to you.”

“Sure. Soon as all this is over.”

Hermione began to sob fully, as if Neville’s tears were contagious. Ron pulled her into his arms, and caught the tears from her, too. A few drops fell from his cheeks and into her hair.

Ginny gave Harry a kiss. “I’ll see you for Bill’s wedding, right? Guess I can’t get rid of Fleur now.”

Harry had not expected an invitation, but he supposed that all the Weasleys were rather fond of him, not just Ginny. “Yeah — yeah, of course.”

He kissed her once more, then slipped away to find his parents. He thought that his tall parents would be easy to find in a crowd, but it was hard to pick out anyone in a sea of black-robed mourners. It did not help, either, that many people were interested in talking to him and shaking his hand. Harry shook so many hands that he started to lose track of how many times he had said, “Thank you, you too,” each time they offered condolences. He did not care about any of these people; he only wanted to find his parents and leave.

When a wizened gentleman in a crooked bowtie grabbed Harry’s hand and said, “Young Mr Potter, I was hoping to meet you,” Harry lost his patience and abandoned all pleasantries.

“Sorry, I’m looking for someone.” He pulled his hand away and turned, bumping right into Rufus Scrimgeour.

“Ah, there you are, Harry,” Scrimgeour said. He leaned on his cane. “Might we have a word alone?”

Harry glanced around for his family, but no one nearby looked familiar.

“Prepping another young adventurous soul for a Ministry desk job?” the elderly wizard in the crooked bow tie asked. “Come now, Scrimgeour, let the lad go. I’m sure he has enough on his mind without taking on your cares as well.”

Scrimgeour gave the gentleman a withering glance. “I’ll thank you to mind your own business, for once, Scamander.”

“No, I don’t think I shall. Mr Potter, I believe you said you were looking for someone? I saw a woman with exceptionally red hair walking with her husband down by the shore of the lake. Perhaps start your search there.”

Harry thanked the man, and slipped past Scrimgeour as quickly as he could. He headed down to the shore of the lake and sure enough, saw his parents standing at its edge. Lily had chosen a black dress not unlike Hermione’s, and James’ dress robes were almost identical to Harry’s. It was like staring into a mirror that showed him what he would look like twenty years in the future. Harry swallowed, hoping he would not be attending a funeral like this twenty years from now.

Lily saw him first, and she held her arm out to him. She pulled him close and kissed his forehead. If she was still angry that he was keeping a secret from her, or angry that he had decided to stay at Hogwarts, there was no sign of it.

“I hope you don’t feel like we abandoned you,” Lily said, “but we couldn’t stand in that crowd another minute, and you looked like you needed to be with your friends.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry said. “Scrimgeour tried to talk to me.”

“And?” James asked in a guarded tone.

“I dunno, I ran off.”

Lily struggled to suppress a laugh. She squeezed his shoulder. “He’ll try again. He’s determined to have you at his side.”

“He can keep trying. I don’t want to be the Ministry’s weapon.”

There was a pause, then James asked, “But you’ll be Dumbledore’s?”

There was no anger in it, but Harry knew how hurt his parents were. He knew very well what he was betraying by keeping this secret.

“Wouldn’t you?” he said.

His parents did not answer, but Harry did not think that this was the end of the discussion.

Footsteps in the form of boots crunching against the rocky shore approached, and the Potters turned. Harry could feel the tension in Lily’s arm relax when she discovered it was only Sirius, with a slink black cat perched on his shoulders.

James raised an eyebrow at him.

“He doesn’t like being carried,” Sirius said. “You wouldn’t believe the compliments I’ve gotten on my new familiar, though. A couple of people even asked if he got along with your dog familiar.”

Harry could not help but laugh, despite the somber occasion.

“Where’s Remus?” he asked.

“He and Tonks went back to the cottage already,” Sirius said. “Too many Ministry officials for him here. But I think he’s alright.”

“Are you alright?” James asked.

“Hell, I don’t know.” Sirius tugged at the cuff of his shirt sleeve. “I think I will be. I think it’s probably better this way. I think…” He let out a deep breath and turned his eyes to the shore on the other side of the Black Lake. “I dunno, I think we just passed by each other one too many times, and I think starting something new will be good for him.”

“And will it be good for you?” asked Lily.

Sirius shrugged, jostling Regulus. “Maybe I’ll try something new, too. Maybe this time it’ll work out.”

Regulus leapt off of Sirius’ shoulders and into Harry’s arms.

“Oh, sure,” Sirius snorted, “you’ll let him carry you.”

But Harry knew, as the black cat nosed at his dress robes, that Regulus was just checking on the diadem. When he was satisfied that it was still safe, he climbed onto Harry’s shoulders.

“Where are we going now?” Harry asked.

“Home,” James said.

“Is home safe?”

“For now… But Grimmauld Place isn’t. Dumbledore was the Order’s Secret Keeper and now… Well, we’ll go home until we figure out how to ditch the Ministry and find somewhere safe to hide.

Harry looked back at the crowd of mourners. It was only marginally smaller than it had been when the ceremony had begun. No one seemed interested in leaving, in being alone after an event like this. He saw Cedric and the young blonde man who had arrived with the Ministry talking together in hushed tones with serious expressions. It looked like they were arguing.

Lily tried unsuccessfully to flatten Harry’s hair. “Let’s go home,” she said. “Cedric will have a shift at our place soon enough. You can talk to him then.”

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s go home.”

#hbp #harry potter #Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince #hp everyone lives #hp everyone lives au

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myheartofmusic · 4 years

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Alright. It’s time to watch Artemis Fowl.

Spoilers incoming. Being real, it’s been a while since I’ve read the books, some details may have escaped me. Here we go:

- There are popo and cameras everywhere and they’re pulling Mulch Diggums out of a cop car. Oh boy. - MI6? MI6????? This isn’t Alex Rider, wrong series guys. - Stole the what now - Why the mcfuck is Artemis surfing. - Huh, music by Patrick Doyle. - I still don’t understand why he’s surfing, he just ain’t that kid. - SCHOOL?!?! He’s supposed to be a child prodigy spending his time looking for his dad what is happening. - “He cloned a goat and named it Bruce” - So far I ain’t mad at the casting of Artemis. - Ah, so mother Fowl has been killed off. Prob doesn’t matter that much anyway, she did nothing in the books too. Still, would have been cool if Artemis was looking for his mother instead of his father (if that’s even what’s happening in this film) - What kind of therapy room has windows for everyone to look in, wtf. I’d need therapy for going to therapy. - Butler’s here hell yeah - The Fowl Manor is pretty much exactly how I imagined it - Why is Artemis calling Butler “Dom” c’monnnnn - He’s been in this secret basement for two seconds and suddenly he knows where everything is... I get that he’s a prodigy, but c’mon. - Haven’s pretty much how I imagined it too. Not bad. - Where are the weird ass accents - Not sure how I feel about Holly... she’s too docile. - I wonder if the chain smoker is Opal - ...ngl Judi Dench plays an awesome Root. - Holly’s father??? Aren’t her parents supposed to be dead? - YAAASSSSS GIMME ALL THE JULIET - Hold the mcfuck up. Did Juliet just make Artemis a sandwich? Seriously? - FOALYYYYY - TROOOOLLL!! IN THE DUNGEON!! - This troll just fkn yeeted this girl I’m laughing - It seems vinyl is immune to being frozen in time... Is there a pun there or am I overthinking this? - OI IT IS OPAL, CALLED IT. - Also, I expected Holly to be more... angry, sassy, take-no-bullshit. - I love how one tranq dart somehow manages to shut down all the technology Holly’s wearing... 😐 - “Most human beings are afraid of gluten, how do you think they’d handle goblins?” I’m not well-versed in the art film making, but even I know that line is really fkn poor. - “I read about it in dad’s journal” getting major spn vibes here - It seems conversations between Artemis and Holly have transpired, but we’ve seen none of it. The relationship between Holly and Artemis is supposed to be the most important in the series, c’mon people. - Pardon me, just need to think of a logical explanation to a time freeze shoving the ocean out of the way - look idc what people say, Judi Dench kicks ass as Root - Why is the ocean still flung up in the air - Root’s lookin’ good for 803, what a babe. - This kid’s acting just isn’t... quite there. Artemis is meant to be a smarmy little shit, I’d expect him to act bored when discussing terms with Root. - Yep. Crappy development of Artemis and Holly’s relationship. - I am also not a fan of the way Holly is being portrayed. - Jesus, how many books are they stuffing into this one movie? - Like... David Bowie... sure ok - This film would be a thousand times better if there was actual character development - it’s... an acorn. - I’m bored and unamused. I have no fondness for the characters and don’t really care what happens to them. This story is way too rushed. - They’re going for what’s supposed to be a heartwarming moment but all I can do is roll my eyes. - Yes, put the sailor back in the boat that’s currently falling to earth. A+ logic. - 1:14:27 “You like to break the rules” that line should have been at the beginning of the goddamn film, what IS this mess. - *Speaks English to open an ancient acorn* - Flower gleam and glow, let your power shiiiine, make the clock reverse, bring back what once was miiiinnnneeee - I think they lost some frames... - I’m liking the music, at least. - “Artemis, I’m so sorry” she doesn’t look very sorry :/ - *sigh* this is underwhelming - “I’m Artemis Fowl, and I’m a criminal mastermind” yes with the plethora of crimes you’ve committed - “Clap your hands if you believe in fairies” don’t let Dean Winchester hear you say that - *deep sigh* This had so much potential to be amazing, and it just... wasn’t. Could’ve been worse, I guess. It wasn’t as bad as ATLA’s film adaption 😬 I wonder if that sailor survived.

#Artemis Fowl #spoilers #Artemis Fowl spoilers #commentary

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whyiloveparkjimin · 5 years

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Regarding Online Trolling and Bullying

I have been involved in K-pop for quite a while—since 2005 actually (I was a huge fan of the five-member TVXQ and since then I’ve been a staunch supporter of various K-pop groups). I’ve seen K-pop acts come and go, and I’ve seen the fandom change in incredible ways. It’s amazing to witness the growth of the fandom particularly outside of Korea—I went from being the weird girl listening to Asian music to now someone who was ahead of her time, haha. I love that the internet brings so much exposure to the amazing talent in Korea, and I love seeing so many more non-Korean fans like myself engage in promoting their favorite groups.

Of course, there is never light without a shadow. While I’m proud of how well the K-pop fandom promotes our favorite artists to grow our numbers almost every day, I’m also heartbroken at the increased number of online trolls and bullying.

Here’s the thing—and I’m sure you knew it was coming —I love f(x). I liked them from the beginning, and I was sad when Sulli left the group. After she left, she made a lot of choices in her personal life that were controversial in the conservative society she lived in. I even remember being mildly shocked by her behavior every once in a while. But here’s the thing—I would never, never, waste time trying to publicly criticize her or try to get others to band together with me to publicly condemn her choices. What is the point in that? She was not engaged in criminal behavior (which is the only behavior that I think is appropriate to publicly condemn). Why would I spend my time and energy pulling someone down when I could spend my time promoting and building up the people I love?

Even if Sulli wasn’t on my list of top favorite idols, I still cared about her. I was sad knowing how much crap she got from nameless internet bullies. And look—when news of her death came out, even when it was not a confirmed suicide because there was no suicide note—everyone already knew why she died. Everyone in the entertainment industry widely knew how much she had been bullied by trolls. And here’s the thing: NO ONE DID ANYTHING WHILE IT WAS HAPPENING. Not her agency, not other non-troll fans. It took her death to wake us up from complacency.

Now, I want to use another example. Sulli was widely known to receive more hate comments than support comments. But what about more popular celebrities? Do they deserve defending as well?

Let’s use my current Kpop bias Park Jimin from BTS as an example. He is regarded as one of the most popular figures in pop music at the moment and gets plenty of love from fans all over the world. In fact, he broke a record on his birthday: for a while the top 20 Twitter trending hashtags were all for Jimin. That’s a lot of worldwide love. However, later that day his anti-fans made a hate Jimin hashtag trend in Korea at #2. I can’t tell you how angry that made me—and not just because Jimin is my bias. It doesn’t matter that the love and support he receives is more than that of the hate. The thing is, that kind of relentless, senseless hate of anti-fans is exactly the sort of thing that killed our sweet Sulli. What kind of people are so threatened by the success of an entertainer they don’t personally like that they make sure to send him tens of thousands of hate messages on his birthday?

It’s those who gain some sort of twisted satisfaction by being cruel. They are people who either don’t bother to understand or don’t care about the far-reaching mental effects of what they do. Now, bullying is sadly something most people deal with in some form in their lives. It’s kind of normal between siblings and on the elementary school playground. But there comes a point where we are old enough to understand that words hurt and can leave scars upon the soul. There comes a point where we are old enough to understand that there is a difference between ‘just expressing your opinion’ and being purposefully malicious. RM once confessed that he had spent 5 hours, even 5 days thinking about hate comments like “I hate him” that were written in a 5 mere seconds by some individual online [who probably never thought about that careless comment again]. Becoming famous does not magically make you mentally immune to cruelty. It doesn’t matter how popular or unpopular a celebrity is. Purposefully cruel comments are mentally damaging to those whom the comments are written about. End of argument.

Here’s the important part. I understand that most of us aren’t internet trolls ourselves. But (and I’ve been guilty of this myself) when we do nothing to speak out against trolls or to stop this toxic internet culture, we are basically giving malicious bullies the green light to continue and spread their behavior. Forgive the extreme example, but it’s like the people who rolled over and did nothing while the Nazis took control in parts of Europe in the 1930s and 40s. History will judge us for not speaking out against hateful rhetoric, whether expressed against celebrities or non-celebrities, while the mental health of hundreds of thousands of people declines because of our inaction.

So what can we do? Report trolls. Block nasty people. Don’t follow sasaeng accounts even if they reveal what you think is interesting information/photos of your favorite idols—these fake fans are basically stalkers who intrude on idols’ privacy, and we should not condone such behavior. Don’t spread rumors. It’s okay at some level to have fun and speculate as long as you clearly state you are only guessing—don’t spread a theory as truth just because you’d like to believe it’s true.

There’s even a way to call out your online friends in a kind way when they’re engaging in toxic public comment culture. Perhaps say something like, “Hey, instead of spending time hating on ____, why don’t we just spend our time building awareness and clout for those celebs we do support?” We all can and should do more to promote behavior that is healthy and supportive instead of cruel and destructive. In a world that grows ever meaner and petty, with even our political leaders using social media to attack others, let’s be the ones that start the change. Let’s be the generation to be proud of by fighting maliciousness with kindness.

Kindness is never something you’ll regret when you look back on your life. Mean and harsh words that cut others down will never be something to look back with pride on. Let’s all be the change we wish to see.

If this post resonates with you, please consider reblogging it. It’s a message worth spreading.

#anti-bullying #anti-trolling #kindness on the internet #change toxic culture online #be the change you wish to see #park jimin #have courage and be kind

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rosemaidenvixen · 5 years

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Christmas in New Trollmarket

Final part of @mintharpy‘s secret santa gift from last year, hope you all enjoy,

Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, and Blessed Yule to you all!

Ao3

Christmas Day

Human and troll sleep cycles were not at all similar, due to one species having a fatal reaction to sunlight and needing far less sleep in general. But on this particular morning, both species put in effort to wake up in their underground dwelling at the same time as the sun rose on the surface.

Jim stretched and yawned. For simplicity’s sake, the human visitors’ sleeping area had been set up in rooms immediately adjacent to Blinky’s library. Due to Jim’s desire to help with holiday preparations late into the night, he had eventually fallen asleep on the library floor itself.

Jim blinked the sleep out of his eyes and waited for everyone else to wake up.

Claire and her parents were the first group to walk in, with Barbara and Strickler following shortly behind them.

“Morning,” Jim greeted them “You guys sleep alright?”

“Uh huh,” Claire replied with a yawn “What’s for breakfast?”

Jim picked up a tray from one of the library’s workbenches “Cookies; red plate for humans, green plate for trolls,”

Claire walked up and plucked a cookie from the human plate “How’d you make the troll compatible cookies?”

“The two main differences are cooking time and the addition of large amounts of sand,” he said while popping one of the aforementioned cookies into his mouth, grinning at Claire’s nauseated expression.

It was at that moment Toby ran into the library, with his Nana, Blinky, and AAARRRGGHH on his heels “Are you guys ready for presents!”

“Not before everyone’s had dessert for breakfast,” Claire said through a mouthful of cookie crumbs and frosting. Toby deflated, but only slightly. Ten minutes later, once everyone had a Christmas confection in one hand and a caffeinated beverage in the other, Toby made a beeline for the tree.

“Okay, now it’s present time,” he grabbed two packages “These ones first,” he handed the larger of the boxes to AAARRRGGHH “This one’s for you,”

AAARRRGGHH opened the package as delicately as he could manage. An elated look appeared on his face once he discovered the box’s contents; a Christmas stocking stuffed to the brim with used argyle socks.

“SOCKS!”

AAARRRGGHH proceed to chow down with gusto. Wasting no time, Toby handed the next box to Jim.

Curious Jim unwrapped it, revealing the last thing he ever would have expected. .

“A sweater?”

“I knitted it myself,” Nana piped up.

Jim smiled at her in gratitude while he pulled the troll-sized sweater on over his t shirt, making sure it didn’t snag on his horns “Thanks Mrs. Domzalski, I love it,”

Noticing Claire wink at him while pulling a familiar package out from under the tree, Jim turned to Toby “Now it’s your turn,”

Claire approached and handed Toby the box “Merry Christmas TP,”

Eagerly, Toby tore into the offered present “Let’s see; hammer, chisel, tweezers, and is this a crystal pendulum?”

“Actually Tobes, it’s a Troll-standard geology kit,”

“Really!?”

“You betcha,” Claire cut in “The pendulum crystals can be used for infrared, UV, radiation, and apparently the magic levels,”

“We made a written guide to what they all do, so don’t try to use the magic crystal as a geiger counter,”

“Awesomesauce!”

While the three of them were busy going over Toby’s new gear, AAARRRGGHH pulled a box comparable in size to a treasure chest from under the tree “FOR BLINKY,”

“Oh, for me? You shouldn’t have, but since you have already gone to such trouble, let’s see what we have here….” Blinky tore off the paper, revealing a large old-fashioned trunk

Barbara smiled at him “This one is from AAARRRGGHH, Strickler, and me,”

Even more curious now, Blinky lifted the trunk’s lid “How joyous! you have gifted me with tomes to expand my new library!”

“It’s a combination of human and Changeling literature that we thought you would enjoy,” Strickler explained.

“I recommend you start with this one,” Barbara pulled out a large, maroon colored book that had a very simplistic design. AAARRRGGHH looked noticeably bashful.

“Why this one in particular?”

“AAARRRGGHH wrote it himself,” Strickler said matter-of-factly “It’s an autobiography of sorts,”

“Truly?!”

“OTHERS HELPED,” AAARRRGGHH mumbled while sheepishly avoiding eye contact.

Blinky clasped the book to his chest with all four limbs “I will treasure it for the rest of my days,”

Knowing that the adults in their group would be preoccupied with Blinky’s new books for the time being, Jim took the opportunity to pull a red and gold envelope off of the tree “This is for you Claire,”

Claire opened the envelope and squealed at the contents “Papa Skull tickets!”

“The concert’s next April, I thought that maybe we could go together?,”

She leaped up and threw her arms around his neck “Of course we can! Thank you thank you thank you!”

Breaking the hug Claire ran to the tree and pulled out a large gift bag “Now here’s your gift from me,”

Jim pulled out the tissue paper to reveal a professional looking leather case. He opened the case, exposing blades of different shapes and sizes lining either side; with each one tucked into an individual sleeve.

“Chef’s knives!”

“I figured that it was time chef Jim got a professional set,”

“Thank you, they’re perfect,”

Barbara picked up three boxes and handed them to Jim, Claire, and Toby “You guys should open these at the same time,”

Together, they tore off the paper and opened the boxes, Jim pulled out a thick black book and noticed Toby and Claire with identical ones “Are these scrapbooks?”

“We thought that you kids would like something to keep all your memories of Arcadia in, so we all collaborated and made these,” Nana explained.

“Don’t worry,” Ophelia reassured them “We left out the embarrassing baby pictures,”

“Most of them,” Javier corrected.

Claire hugged her scrapbook “Thanks, these are great,”

Blinky met Jim and Claire’s eyes with four of his. Upon receiving nods of confirmation from both of them, he grabbed four boxes from under the tree and approached the rest of the group with them “We had planned to ship these to you as soon as we could contact a reputable postage service, but since you’re already here….”

He handed a box to Barbara, the Nuñez’s, Toby, and AAARRRGGHH, respectively. Jim and Claire shared exstatic grins, these particular gifts to their families were the ones that they were looking forward to giving the most.

Toby finished opening his first “Is this a….mirror ball?” the others pulled out their identical reflective spheres with looks of varying confusion.

Strickler on the other hand, looked at the gifts with awe and reverence “Are those….”

“Scrying stones!” Blinky shouted, unable to contain his glee.

“Oh yeah,” Toby said “What are scrying stones?”

“They’re crystals enchanted so that anyone who owns one can use it to communicate to anyone else that owns a stone, regardless of distance,” Claire clarified.

“Yep,” Jim chipperly added “Now we can talk whenever we want,” During the journey to New Trollmarket communication had been spotty at the best of times. There was even a period of almost three weeks where they were completely out of contact. Jim and Claire had been talking about more stable forms of communication with Blinky for a while. This was the solution they had ultimately come up with.

“Thank you so much,” Ophelia said while lovingly cradling her stone.

“They are also exceedingly rare,” Strickler added “It must have take a great deal of effort for you to acquire this many,”

Eyes brimming with tears, Barbara came over to Jim and embraced him “Now you can call twice a day,”

“I’ll do that, Merry Christmas Mom,”

Now that all the presents had been opened, everyone just sat back to eat their cookies and relax in the decorated library. Eventually, Toby stood up “I don’t know about you guys, but feel like going outside and enjoying the white Christmas,”

“Sounds great,” Claire got to her feet “How about it Jim? Want to pop the sunlight stone in your amulet so Toby and I can kick your butt in a snowball war?”

Jim smirked “Oh I’m not going to be the one getting my butt kicked,”

One change into winter clothes and sunlight-immunity armor later; Jim, Claire, and Toby were in the woods above New Trollmarket, wading through the copious amounts of snow on the ground.

“This is amazing!” Toby shouted into the snow-covered trees “We never got snow like this at home,”

“I know, it’s incredible!” Claire said while twirling in the falling flakes.

Jim smiled at his friends “Maybe this can be a new tradition,”

“Sounds good to me,” Toby said before flopping down on his back to make a snow angel. Jim chuckled at his friend’s antics, only to feel an icy ball of slush hit the back of his head.

Claire looked smugly at the two of them while casually rolling another snowball in her hands “I believe someone said something about kicking our butts in a snowball war?”

Toby got to his feet, all business now “Oh you want a war? Well you got one,”

The next several hours were spent in nonstop, frosty combat. Whether it was setting up ambushes, constructing forts of varying size and architectural integrity, or no-holds-barred three way fights. Occasionally, some of the adults would show up to check on them. Mostly they stuck to the sidelines, prefering to watch the kids over joining in their winter warfare. A notable exception was when Barbara and Strickler checked up on them and Strickler decided to get his hands dirty. He did quite well at first, setting up a multitude of successful blitz attacks on each of them. Only when the trio were able to corner Strickler and dump a literal truckload of snow on him did he and Barbara decide it was time to go back down.

After sunset Blinky and AAARRRGGHH came up to join them, by that point they had moved on from snowball fights to sculpting snowmen. With the additional help they were able to make six snowmen, a vaguely AAARRRGGHH shaped snow mound, and a veritable army of snow-gnomes. By that time it had gotten completely dark, and Claire and Toby were starting to feel the cold, so they retired to Blinky’s library.

Nana met them at the entrance “You kids have fun?”

All three gave sounds of assent.

“Well here,” she placed a mug in each of their hands “Have some hot coco,”

The three of them took deep sips from each of their mugs, Jim smacked his lips at the delicious taste “How’d you manage to make a troll version of hot cocoa?”

“It was actually pretty easy,” Barbara chimed in “As it turns out hot chocolate is already pretty similar to existing troll drinks, I just had to swap a few ingredients,”

Claire sniffed Jim’s mug and made a face “Do we want to know what’s in this?”

“Most certainly not,” Blinky repiled.

They all settled in to comfortable silence, before Javier spoke up “So Barbara, I have to ask, an exploding turkey?”

She and Jim chucked at the memories his question brought up.

“It’s embarrassing really,” Barbara replied “One year I was trying to roast a turkey for Christmas dinner, and to this day I don’t know what I did, but he turkey exploded in the oven,”

Ophelia stared at her slack-jawed “Really!?”

“Yep,” Jim replied “It scared the hell out of me at the time,”

“We heard the explosion all the way over in our house,” Toby added.

Barbara chuckled “I was just glad that I didn’t need to call the fire department,”

At this the elder Nuñezs smirked at each other while Claire groaned “It’s funny you should mention that…”

“Dad, please, not this story,”

“Well now you have to tell us,” Jim said eagerly.

Javier continued “One Christmas when Claire was a toddler, she somehow managed to stick her head through the stair banisters and get stuck,”

Claire moaned in mortification.

“We ended up having to call the fire department to cut her free,” Ophelia concluded before turning to the Domzalskis “How about you, any stories?”

“Nothing that crazy,” Toby replied “Just the one year where the tree fell on me,”

“He thought that the elf on the shelf was trying to kill him,” Nana clarified.

Blinky stood up “If I may, while us trolls do not share many of your human holidays, during the festival celebrating the discovery of the Arcadian Hearthstone, I consumed so much glug that I became inebriated to the extent that I invited a colony of gnomes to share our living space,”

AAARRRGGHH nodded in confirmation “VENDEL NOT HAPPY,”

Jim watched as they all continued on sharing stories of disastrous holidays and drunken hijinks. His mom had been right. Christmas this year was nothing like it had been in the past, but it had been new and amazing.

He cleared his throat “Well I for one am looking forward to all the mishaps Christmas at New Trollmarket is sure to have,”

His friends and family all laughed and agreed with him before the discussion once again turned to happy memories of the past and all their hopeful ideas for the future, as the first Christmas of New Trollmarket came to a peaceful end.

#tales of arcadia #trollhunters #rmvwrites #toachristmas #Christmas #christmas in new trollmarket #fanfic

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brachyurans · 4 years

Text

tw3 moods, part 3

THE GWENT QUEST NEARS ITS CONCLUSION. zero cards left to be won from players of no renown. three cards left in skellige. then...then it is only the four cards left in novigrad: the fucking passiflora tournament

no i definitely did not spend my first three hours on skellige bopping around signposts to grab all the gwent cards before doing anything else

technically after this i also have to go get the skellige faction deck and other assorted cards from the dlcs but this is not in my Miraculous Book of Gwent so we shall not worry about it yet.

i love skellige and how much people in skellige respect Geralt and how nobody calls me a freak while im walking down the streets here. i also love how half the time voice actors can’t quite decide if they want to pronounce the final E in skellige or not.

finally cleared the skellige part of following the thread and got lambert’s card right before the karadin meeting. idk if they wanted us to believe jad actually changed but his voice actor is the most insincere-sounding motherfucker and anyways the whole Aiden business aside, you can’t make up for engaging in the slave trade by sending a polite letter and donating to local schools, fuck off. i probably wouldn’t have killed him myself (we were in his house, he had no armor and his kids were next door, i don’t like to kill in cold blood) but since lamby was willing to do it for me, well,,

i finally found my girlfriend !!! geralt loves yen so much, i love yen so much, i will literally implode, i’m so happy i got to run a heist with her making sarcastic comments and helping me not die of taxidermy-related hallucinations (sorry mousesack, i regret nothing)

geralt be running and scrambling and hauling himself up ledges while yennefer teleported across ten minutes ago and has been Waiting. shes so extra i love her

i can’t believe yen brought the unicorn all the way to fucking skellige. i mean i can because it’s yen but goddamn, woman, you do not travel light. i have been trying to figure out what yen finds erotic about the unicorn and i have yet to reach any conclusions. would she be interested in fucking on a stuffed horse? is it the unicorns/virginity thing? is it just proving that geralt loves her enough to do anything for her? if it’s the last one, yen, honey, peg him with your massive troll phallus or something, there is no need to haul a life-size unicorn across the fucking ocean

all that said im pausing on skellige for now to clean up the last of the velen/novigrad points of interest, grab the unmarked sidequests, dig up the last of the continental witcher gear diagrams, and finish out my contracts. this should also net me a few extra levels before i start tackling skellige monsters which will be Nice.

POIs are fun because i went all the way down the western coast of velen by midcopse cutting through lvl5 bandits and lvl4 drowners like wet paper and then hit a guarded treasure with a lvl28 hag out of nowhere and booked it the fuck away from there. are these high-level points of interest in with the low-level ones specifically to wreck the shit of overeager newbies?? what the fuck.

i let gaetan go. killing him is probably the more moral choice but i was underleveled for the quest and i don’t love combat in this game so i just didn’t want to fight him. whoops. also iunno, still feels bad to try and kill a guy in cold blood, ’specially when he just got pitchforked in the gut and is clearly at a disadvantage from pain.

while going to consult dijkstra about assassinations i found a male sex worker in the other side of the passiflora who ISN’T hacking his lungs out and geralt can’t even talk to him properly, all he says is “sod off.” i think this is extra homophobic.

i love sigismund dijkstra an unreasonable amount what the FUCK.

i also love dandelion, i would do anything dandelion asked of me, however absurd, including dressing up as a bandit and concealing my identity by putting a scarf over my mouth while doing nothing about like, the cat eyes, or the two swords. dandelion is a himbo.

i’ve done a lot of sidequests and so far i think my favorite has been Scavenger Hunt: Cat School Gear. kiyan is just. mm. his story is so fucked up on multiple levels and i love him. close second might be gaetan’s quest just because i like cat witchers.

best non-witcher sidequest so far was absolutely “shock therapy” wherein geralt is asked to “scare” a druid who ~suddenly became mute~ back into speaking. what does he do? proceed to just. annoy the everliving shit out of the poor druid. like, in no way is putting out the fire every time he lights it to try and warm up a form of shock therapy, that’s just being an asshole! also geralt’s surprised/guilty face when he realizes he got tricked into playing a practical joke on this man. geralt you dumb fuck i love you so much. you should have been suspicious the minute the guy offered you a gwent card rather than coin.

other really good sidequests include aeramas’ trial of the cheeses and “fool’s gold.” i haven't finished “reasons of state” yet but i suspect i’ll also really like that one because, well, dijkstra

i have all the enhanced cat gear and all the enhanced griffin gear and the cat gear is just, far superior aesthetically just by virtue of not being green. sad it gains sleeves when you upgrade it but i am a fan of the cowl and it will make me less chilled when we go to skellige. i wish it was black but we are far too low a level to touch beauclair yet. sad to let my goth imperialist look go but the nilfgaard set finally became underleveled u_u

i finally became sort of rich selling everything to novigrad smiths and then immediately hit a wall with crafting ingredients for potions. no longer can i cobble them together from stuff i picked in the forest and stripped from monster corpses. nooooo i need to buy alcohols and craft secondary ingredients. i am spending an obscene amount of money on cordials to make all the white gull i need.

solved my bomb problem by investing a skill point in becoming immune to bomb secondary effects. now i just need to learn how to aim for shit

#quilltxt #tw3 blogging #i still can't use dragon's dream bombs for the same reason i can't use igni on swamp gas

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kaesaaurelia · 5 years

Text

just-world fallacy

For @whumptober2019 day 26: abandoned.

A conclusion to day 16 (pinned down) and day 19 (asphyxiation).

Postcanon; Michael has captured Crowley and is torturing him for information and for revenge.

Michael/Ligur and Aziraphale/Crowley. Content warning for torture and grief.

"Crowley!" Michael shouted, pursuing him into the horrible flat's horrible bathroom. Crowley curled himself into the tiny amount of space between the washing machine and the toilet, and watched with great satisfaction as Michael tried to pursue him and smacked her head on the slanted ceiling. He was forced to retreat behind the washing machine, though, as Michael crouched down and tried to grab him.

There were beautifully-realized oil paintings of Michael fighting Satan and striking down demons, and Crowley would've given his eyeteeth (Did he have eyeteeth in serpent form? He didn't know.) to bring any of the artists here to see her futilely trying to fish a recalcitrant snake demon out from behind some poorly-installed plumbing and reconsider their views on archangels. Her hand brushed his scales a few times, but mostly reached empty air. "Crowley, you coward!" she snarled.

"Absssolutely guilty of that one," he said, not coming out. "What'sss your point?"

She made an incoherent and graceless noise, and he heard her sniffing.

"But really, I don't know how you exsspected this to end," Crowley said. He didn't like Michael but he'd definitely got the impression she was smart enough not to fall in love with a demon and think it'd end well.

"With you dead," she snapped.

"I meant you and Ligur. You were ssso gung-ho about the fucking war, both of you, what'd you think, you'd go off happily into the sssunssset after the end of the world?"

"I was supposed to kill him!" she shouted. "I was! We had a pact! He wasn't supposed to -- not -- not you!"

Crowley considered this, while Michael sobbed. "If you'll pardon me for sssaying ssso --"

"I will not."

"-- that doesssn't ssseem like a very good basssisss for a relationship."

"Well, he might've killed me," Michael admitted, "but we both knew that wasn't very likely. But you! You -- you killed him and you got to live and nobody's even hunting you down. It's wrong."

Crowley had to laugh at that. "Oh, Michael. Sssix thousssand yearsss and you ssstill think the world should be fair?"

There was a worrying silence, and then the point of Michael's spear crashed through the washing machine, nicking him in the side. "It's what I'm for, isn't it? It's what I do!" There was thunder in her voice, and ozone in the air.

Crowley made himself as flat as he could as the spear pierced the washing machine three more times, accompanied by shouts of pure rage. He slithered out from behind the ruins of the washing machine, hoping to get past Michael, but no -- she stepped on the tail end of him and grabbed him.

He struck, twice -- once on her hand and once on her arm -- and her blood burned his mouth, but she dropped him. But as he was slithering out into the kitchen/bedroom/living room/monument to high rents and low wages, she speared him in the gut and pinned him to the floor.

He struggled, trying to loosen the spear, but she grabbed him by the neck, now, and he couldn't strike.

"Doesssn't it jussst kill you," he said, "that you know you could've sssaved him, ssso easssily, and you didn't?"

She shook him. "How? Tell me how, you fucking -- how did you do it, how could I have -- just tell me and I'll put you out of your misery, you disgusting thing."

Ah. She was still stuck on that, wasn't she? Crowley'd meant not having the war, but this clarified things for him. This was what she was looking for, from him. Not just revenge, and not just information on the bodyswap, but some kind of forgiveness.

Crowley had no control over whether she'd take her revenge, but he certainly wasn't going to grant her absolution. She didn't deserve it, and besides, it had been pretty much the opposite of his job description for six thousand years.

"Well, for ssstartersss," said Crowley, "you could've tried to cancssel Armageddon?" She stared at him. "Tell me, were you too wrapped up in your fantasssy tragic love ssstory, or could you jussst not fathom a world where you got to be the hero ssswooping in at the end to punish the unrighteous?"

"You -- that isn't --"

"You didn't need to give him an immunity to holy water, you absssolute wanker, you jussst needed to keep him from coming after the perssson trying to prevent Armageddon! Do you really think thisss isss jussst? Thisss? Revenge on me, who killed your fuckbuddy in ssself defenssse, because you didn't get to kill him firssst?"

She was shaking now, and blinking back tears, and gripping him so hard he might actually discorporate and have to talk himself out of Hell. "Don't you get sanctimonious at me, serpent," she snarled, and stared at him for a long moment, and Crowley was waiting for the final blow.

It didn't come.

Instead she opened up the freezer and shoved him inside, all fifteen feet of him, while he struggled and bit and fought. Tangled and freezing, Crowley tried to push the door open, but he was suddenly overcome by a terrible feeling of pins-and-needles all over, and the bottom of the freezer was burning him.

She'd blessed the fridge.

He managed to pile as much of himself onto the ice tray as possible, and sank into a torpor.

When the door opened again, Crowley didn't know how long it had been; at first he was conscious only of light and warm hands, and he panicked, because she'd come back, she'd come back after freezing him for some reason, she was going to kill him for real now.

Only the warm hands were gentle and the voice was lower, and soothing, and Crowley coiled around this body and found it was comfortable. Everything was a bit of a blur after that; he could tell they were moving, and he didn't know what was going on and he couldn't even think, really, but it was better than being murdered.

When he came to once more, things made a lot more sense, but also very little sense.

He was at the bookshop. He was coiled around Aziraphale, who was reading a book. His head lay against Aziraphale's neck. That was all normal enough. But also, given the last events he remembered clearly...

"Angel?" he muttered.

"Oh!" He could feel Aziraphale's pulse speed up, coiled as he was around all of him. "My dearest. Are you all right?"

"Nh. Still a little fuzzy." Aziraphale stroked his head and he leaned into it; he was warm enough, now, but the memory of the cold was still with him, and everything about Aziraphale meant safety and comfort. "How'd you find me?"

"When you didn't show up for dinner, I called you, and it wasn't like you not to answer for so long, so I, ah. Please don't be angry?"

"Angel, you sssaved me," Crowley said.

"I went to your flat, and when I realized you weren't there either, I looked at your computer, and, er. Your electronic mail --"

"Email, it'sss called email, angel," said Crowley.

"-- and I saw that you'd decided to tour this flat -- which, Crowley, if you're going to move to Kensal --"

"I'm not!"

"-- there must be nicer places than that to live --"

"I wasss -- I wasss only trolling the landlord," said Crowley. This defense had not worked in the Garden of Eden, and he was pretty sure it wasn't going to work now, either, but it was true enough.

"Well," said Aziraphale. "That's as it may be, my dear, but how did you end up in the freezer, as a snake? You had some very bad cuts when I found you, too, although I think I managed to heal those up without burning you too badly with the blessings."

"Ah." Crowley was too large a snake to hide his face in Aziraphale's collar, so he decided to manfully -- snakefully -- just own up to where he'd gone wrong. "The landlord turned out to be the Archangel Michael, who --"

"Heaven's not supposed to interfere!" said Aziraphale.

"No, no, it wasssn't Heaven, it wasss Michael," said Crowley. "She -- er. Thisss one'sss going to be difficult to believe."

Aziraphale waited.

"She had a thing with Ligur."

"A thing?" Aziraphale asked.

"A -- well. An Arrangement," said Crowley. Aziraphale made a noise of disbelief. "Not like oursss, no, theirsss wasss a ssspecial, ssstupid Arrangement."

"Ah, yes. Quite unlike the unspeakably clever one we had."

Crowley flicked his tongue at the ticklish spot just under Aziraphale's ear, to shut him up. "What I mean isss -- they did it backwardsss."

"So instead of agreeing not to interfere with each other's work and --"

"And pretending not to be desssperately in love," said Crowley. "They -- they interfered with each other, and --"

"Ah," said Aziraphale.

"Yeah," said Crowley.

"Michael and Ligur, though?" Aziraphale asked.

"I know!" said Crowley.

"And then she just stuffed you into the freezer?" Aziraphale asked.

"Nah, she kicked me around a bit firssst," Crowley admitted.

"Oh, my poor dear," said Aziraphale. "Can you -- would you turn back? Perhaps I can help."

Crowley did, and ended up draped over Aziraphale and half in his lap. When they'd disentangled themselves a bit, Aziraphale looked him over, tsking and muttering, "oh dear," and "oh no," and "my poor darling!" the whole time. He healed the worst wounds -- the broken wing, the stabbed shoulder -- and left the lesser wounds for Crowley, when he was feeling more up to it -- the slice on his cheek, the burns from the chain and from Michael's tears, the bruises on his ribs. Afterwards, Aziraphale just held him, and Crowley pressed close to him, not wanting to leave or even, particularly, to move.

"You don't think she'll try it again, do you?" Aziraphale asked, eventually.

"Hope not," said Crowley. "I think I made her feel guilty about it, though."

"Hmph. I don't think Michael's ever felt guilty about anything," said Aziraphale. "She's -- well. Very much above all that."

"Looked pretty guilty to me," said Crowley. "Maybe I'm just that good."

"I would be very impressed, but if anyone could make her doubt herself it'd be you, you wicked thing," said Aziraphale. "

"Flattery will get you everywhere, angel," said Crowley, and kissed him gently. He made a happy noise into Crowley's mouth. When he pulled away, Crowley said "I wouldn't worry about it, though. She clearly didn't have Heaven's permission."

"Do you think I should tell them?" Aziraphale asked.

"Nah," said Crowley. "We can hold it over her head if she fucks with us again."

They sat in silence for another minute or so.

Then Aziraphale said, "Do you promise you're not moving to a horrid flat in Kensal?"

"Absolutely not," said Crowley. "Really, angel, I've got better taste than that!"

"If -- if you wanted to move --"

"I was trolling landlords!" insisted Crowley.

"-- I could certainly -- I mean, if it's not too much -- if it's not presumptuous -- I could -- I could make room for you here," said Aziraphale, hopefully.

Switching gears from explaining embarrassing demon hobby to an anxious angel to answering a serious relationship step proposal was a simple task for the very smooth-talking and extremely coherent Crowley, who responded with a perfectly comprehensible "Gmfh?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that after -- well, today was so -- but I'd been thinking --"

"No, no, angel, I just --" Crowley tried to decide between five different things he wanted to say all at once, then just grabbed him by the lapels and kissed him, which Aziraphale seemed to find a very satisfactory answer indeed.

#good omens #anthony j crowley #michael good omens #aziraphale #whumptober2019 #ineffable husbands #michaeligur #no.26 #cw torture #cw grief #text #fiction #kaesa op

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