#A normal day for our wonderful group of iterators | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twstdreams · 4 years

Text

A Bouquet to Share: Flower Foraging

CYOA: Chronic Hanahaki AU

Length: 2K | ao3 link

Warnings: fluff, mentions of flu/cold

You’re waiting in front of the mirror for your turn to pass, behind the infamous first years. No one in NRC isn’t aware of the prefect and their friends, mostly how they perpetually get themselves in all sorts of trouble.

“Hey, wasn’t the prefect going to be in our group?” Jack asks

“Oh, they couldn’t make it because they got sick,” Deuce answers. There’s a pause as the unasked question lingers in the air. If they’re just suffering from a passing virus or if it’s that illness.

“With a normal cold,” Ace clarifies, “Grim’s been complaining about having to take care of them.”

You think you’ve heard ten different iterations of this conversation before. Some with Octa A-kun, another with a Pomefiore duo, the same rumours and inquiries always start flying when winter is broken by spring’s warm touch. Everyone wants to know who has hanahaki and chronic sufferers are always the first suspect. People attempt to deduce who’s sick because of pollen or because of the flowers blooming in their lungs. It’s not a lethal disease with modern magic and technology, but you swear enough drama follows it to make up for the lack of imminent doom.

“Hand!” the ghost before you demands once you’re at the front of the line. You offer the back of your hand and immediately a rose is stamped on it, proof that you’re a student who has access to the Great Seven botanical gardens. Then you step through the mirror and are greeted by the site of a massive glass structure. You’re excited to explore the grounds. Each area is its own biome with unique flora and fauna which flourish in that environment. Personally, you’re hoping to see the aquatics section for fun, but you need to ensure that you complete your assignment first.

“Meet each other in the tropical region in two hours!” you text to Jamil and he responds with an affirmation. You two had already agreed to this prior to the project. Most people are wandering the gardens with their partner, but you know Jamil has his hands full with Kalim. You just hope Jamil will actually get to appreciate a couple flowers too.

Officially, the headmaster says this is a field trip for all grades because botany is useful in several fields of magic. You think it’s because a massive amount of students visiting from a prestigious school gets him some sort of discount, but those aren’t thoughts you voice out loud. Not that you care, the Great Seven Botanical gardens hosts some unique and deadly plants, even more so than the poisonous flowers allowed to bloom on campus. You can't choose a lot of them for your assignment but nothing is stopping you from visiting them if you have extra time. Plus, activities amongst different classes aren’t that common, let alone those in various years. If you’re lucky, you might see Malleus amongst the flowers.

You’ve only met Malleus at night, on late walks while perhaps avoiding a guard or two. The daffodils at the entrance remind you of your first meeting with Malleus. But you can’t recall clearly, was there only one daffodil at the spot where you met or several?

Staying up late the night before to cram for a test, only to crash and take a nap afterwards completely messed up your sleep schedule. No amount of staring at your ceiling was going to make you drowsy. Besides, you want to explore the campus and check out some night-blooming flowers. You spotted several during the day but hadn’t gotten the chance to see them underneath the moonlight.

You slip out of your dorm to enjoy the slight breeze and fresh air entering your lungs. Exploring the campus at night feels a little liminal. Not to say that it was silent, some nocturnal familiars scurry around, a ghost or two floating, and more than a couple of students here and there creating background noise. But it's interesting to see a campus normally overflowing with life morph into something restful and quiet. The closer you get to the Ramshackle dorm, the more this effect becomes more pronounced.

You spot plenty of random vegetation growing on the lawns of the dorm. You’d be willing to bet a week’s worth of lunches that dorm hasn’t had real maintenance for at least a decade. Horrid for the prefect living there, you really do feel bad for them, but lots of fun for your midnight flower foraging trip. Your phone battery is dying fast with the flashlight so you test out a new spell you’ve recently learned. You murmur the incantation and a ball of light forms in the palm of your hand. You try to extend it so it acts as a familiar but the light begins to flicker so you’re stuck with having it illuminate the area around your hand. A little testing, a failure or two, and you’re able to create a soft light to guide you. Your hand is nothing but a glorified flashlight, but you can see your surroundings so it’s not a total fail. Unfortunately, what you thought was some pretty evening primrose is actually daffodils.

“How odd. You’re not one of the Ramshackle inhabitants,” a voice notes. You’re certain a ghost has come to lecture you, but you let out a gasp when you realize a living being is behind you.

“I’m, uh, yeah I don’t live here,” you admit, “Just wanted some fresh air. I couldn’t sleep.” You were honestly hoping to avoid all dorm leaders, you know some don’t take kindly to students leaving their dorm after hours, and you think some greater force must be laughing at you because somehow you’ve stumbled upon the most mysterious and powerful one.

“And you came to this abandoned building to do that?” His voice is even. You’re not sure if there’s an accusation laced in his statement or if his regal airs just make him always seem confident and a bit unfriendly.

“I thought it’d be cool to see the night-blooming flowers too,” you add, “There’s supposed to be some evening primrose and moonflowers beneath a gargoyle but I can’t figure out which one it is.”

“I can introduce you to the correct gargoyle,” Malleus comments. Your head, which is frantically processing information and doing its best to be logical, tells you that’s probably a social cue to ask him to show you where the gargoyle is. Your mind, however, is still trying to comprehend how the heck you ended up meeting the Malleus Draconia on a weedy lawn.

“I am part of the gargoyle appreciation society,” he continues but the way his lips were pressed into a thin line indicates that you’ve spent a little too long coming up with a response.

“Oh! That’s impressive,”—now isn’t a good time to admit you didn’t know that club existed—“if you don’t mind, then I’d really appreciate it!” He nods once in acknowledgement and you begin trailing after the dragon fae.

“Do you know about each of the gargoyles?” you ask; you ought to express interest in his passions when he’s doing you a favour. You’re not sure what to expect, but it was most definitely not an encyclopedic infodump about Ramshackle’s gargoyles.

“This is the first gargoyle, located on the entrance to the east building. Are you able to see it?” Before you had a chance to answer, Malleus casts a spell of light that creates fake fireflies which illuminate your surroundings.

“Now I can. It kind of looks like a crow,” you answer. The gargoyle is easy to see but you think Malleus’ elegant magic is more beautiful. Your lightbulb of a hand is almost embarrassing and you quickly stop the spell.

“It is a crow, which is extremely rare for a gargoyle. This is the only one I’ve ever seen. Its quality means it must have been made by a famous craftsman. It looks like it could take flight at any moment.” He goes on about the history of the gargoyles here; you’ve never really been interested in them but the way Malleus talks about them with such excitement makes you engaged. It’s the way that extensive knowledge is intertwined with informed hypotheses while the excitement in his tone never leaves. Hearing Malleus talk about something he loves feels enchanting and endearing. His bubbling enthusiasm is cute.

“This is the gargoyle with the evening primrose and moonflowers,” Malleus announces. Once he finishes his little spiel about its history, you begin to take pictures of the flowers. You want to ask if you can take a picture of him; there’s something so odd about this experience that you want a picture to prove it is real. However, the fresh air has awaken your brain cells and they let you know that perhaps asking someone you just met for a photo in the dead of night is not the best idea. But well, Malleus has been pretty accommodating so you decide to ask for another favour.

“If you don’t mind, could you teach me that light spell?” you inquire. The surprise is evident in his expression and you wonder if you’re being too selfish.

“Is that so? You want me to help you with your spell? Interesting,” he comments and honestly, the pause makes you so nervous you regret ever opening your mouth, “Very well. Show me what you can do.” Even though you're the one who asked, you're a little surprised that the Malleus Draconia has agreed to some impromptu tutoring.

“I can summon a light but I’m having trouble making it steady after it stops making contact with my body,” you explain while taking out your wand. You murmur the incantation and a soft light envelopes your hand while illuminating your surroundings. As the light starts to float away, its shape begins to morph and looks like a blob of light which never stays a consistent shape, akin to a lava lamp.

“You have enough magic to power the spell. The changing shape suggests that you’re having trouble imagining the outcome,” Malleus sumrises, “Why don’t you try mimicking the shape of mine?” Malleus adjusts the shape of his firefly lights into simple spheres. Unfortunately, it does not go so smoothly for you. First the light looks like a balloon, then it shrinks to the size of a marble, but when you have it at a reasonable size then the edges of the ball begin to quiver.

“I’m sorry it’s taking me so long,” you mutter. Sure, you don’t expect to be on the same level as someone as infamous as the Diasomnia dorm leader, but this feels embarrassing.

“You aren’t expected to master everything at the beginning. Don’t be shy,” he reassures. His comforting words encourage you to calm down. You take in a deep breath and start again. The light transforms into a uniform sphere—your own little sun for this corner of the world the two of you are tucked away in.

“I did it!” you exclaim, “It’s all thanks to your advice!” You toss the light between your hands before extending it to float beside Malleus’.

“You already completed the basics. I only offered some advice,” he gently protests but a smile remains on his face all the same.

“What’s the incantation to change its colour again?” you ask, and Malleus says it aloud for you to repeat. You alter your spell, dying it in your favourite colour, then allow it to dance in the sky. His luminescent green light merges with yours, and the spells twine with each other.

Since then you’ve taken to late-night walks for exercise and hopes of meeting Malleus. You haven’t exactly been charming—

“Are you here to admire gargoyles?” Malleus inquires when the two of you meet in the dead of night yet again.

“No, but I can,” you offer. Admitting to the ruler of the valley of thorns that you have been wandering around at night to see him again because you’re very intrigued and a little enamoured is not ideal. Luckily Malleus never questions your intent.

— but the two of you are on friendly terms now. So far no flowers were blooming in your lungs, but you’d be lying if you said a crush wasn’t taking root in your heart. But before you could linger on any hypothetical flowers, you have to pick an actual flower for your assignment! As a second year, you will have to grow whichever flower you pick back at school.

Which flower will you choose? Vote here

White and pink carnations

Crimson astilbe (feather flowers)

Purple snapdragons

Orange tiger lilies

#twst x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst CYOA #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus x reader #More options will be added based on the previous poll #currently at 3 characters #twstdreams #Be warned that platonic and bad ending are available

108 notes · View notes

drawlfoy · 4 years

Text

Colorblind

masterlist request guidelines yes ma’am i’m back

pairing: draco x gryffindor!reader

request: yes! thank you kind anon :) this is the first request that really got me out of my writer’s block so i appreciate it!

summary: soulmate!au where the entire world is black and white except for your soulmate. y/n’s situation is a bit...unconventional.

warnings: swearing and a little gore but it’s not explicit at all and just a mention

a/n: helloooooooo everyone! i know i’ve technically been “back from the dead” for nearly a month now, but this is the first time i’ve decided to jump back into writing. i’ve been working on the wonders of ohio bit by bit and have been horrified to see just how much my writing has deteriorated since last summer (when i was writing 1k words+ a day). i’d like to get into writing genuine original work during this quarantine, so i’m using my blog as a chance to polish up my own writing and work the kinks out before i touch my original ideas. thanks for being so patient with me !

music recs: figure 8 from peach pit, don’t delete the kisses from wolf alice, and bad things from cailin russo

word count: 3,098

Y/N frowned as she stirred the honey into her tea, watching the sugary swirls as they dissolved into the bottom of what she had been told was an amber drink. Her best friend, Tina, sat across from her in her snug Gryffindor robes, energetically recounting just how beautiful the color blue was.

“I had no idea, Y/N,” the brunette gushed, her cold triangle of buttered toast lying long forgotten on her plate as her hands added animation to her story. “You have to see it. He told me that the red in our robes brings out my eyes too--something about the color wheel and how green is opposite of red--and we made each other hold up our things so we could see what color its meant to be...honestly, it was such a dream...”

Even though Y/N was thrilled that Tina had found her soulmate in the convenient place of the Ravenclaw house--really, she was ecstatic for her friend--she couldn’t help but feel a little sad. She did quell the bitterness and envy that threatened to crawl its way up out of her throat, instead choosing to sit and pretend to listen as her own thoughts trailed off with a vacant smile on her face.

She’d been alive for 16 years, seen everyone there is to see at Hogwarts, traveled to every country that had a sizable young magic population, and had let her parents submit pictures of her to wizarding families all across the globe--only to still live in a dull world of simple blacks, whites, and greys. Friends like Tina had told her vibrant stories of the stunning hues of green, blue, red, purple, and gold, but Y/N had no way of knowing what they actually looked like, relying instead on her parents’ soft explanation of green as the color of life, blue as the color of peace, red as passion and anger, and yellow as the feeling of the sun hitting your skin after a long winter.

Infuriating. She despised the security questions she had to fill out to open her Gringotts account (What’s your soulmate’s surname? What’s your favorite color?) and the unimpressed look of the goblin teller as they quietly conferred with her parents (”Sir, we rarely have complaints over this--statistically speaking, soulmates are found by the time a wizard or witch is old enough to handle money...).

In other news, her love life was barren and dry, and at the end of the day, it was better to just not dwell on where she fell short.

“I’ll stop going on about me,” Tina said, finally reaching down for her breakfast. “I want to hear about you. I’m so sorry that you have to put up with that crabby posh Daddy’s boy in Potions. You have my moral support. Always.”

“You mean Malfoy?”

Tina quirked an eyebrow as she took a sip of her own tea. “Yeah. Y/N, I have no clue how you’ve gone so long without being put off by that wanker. He’s so annoying. I know you don’t believe me, but you’re about to see for yourself in...erm..” She made a show of checking her pocket watch. “Less than an hour.”

“He doesn’t seem that bad,” Y/N countered. “I’ve spoken to him once or twice in the library. Doesn’t have much to say, but he was cordial. I’m not horrendously upset that we were assigned to be partners.”

“Did he know you were a Gryffindor?”

“I have no idea. Neither of us were wearing our robes, so I couldn’t tell you.”

Y/N’s friend rolled her eyes dramatically. “You’re going to be singing a very different tune come lunch. Trust me.”

<^>

The wooden stool that Y/N was perched on was uncomfortably wobbly as she waited, albeit a little nervously, for her potions partner to arrive. It had been an unwelcome selection process--or perhaps, lackthereof--that began with Slughorn reading off a canned speech regarding house unity and the importance of bridging the gap between old rivalries and ended with groups that consisted of one Slytherin and one Gryffindor and directions to create an immaculate Draught of Peace.

Not her favorite way to spend a Friday morning, but she admitted to herself that it could be far worse. She could be paired up with one of Malfoy’s goons--Crabbe or Goyle--who were by far much more obnoxious.

A slight movement in the corner of her eye pulled her attention back to the present. Y/N started at the dark figure standing by the empty stool next to her.

“Excuse me,” Malfoy said simply, placing his satchel on the table in front of them and sitting.

Y/N sent him a weak smile as she unrolled her parchment and began reviewing the ingredients.

“I don’t mean to sound brash,” she began as she sorted the ingredients at their table, “but I’m pretty good at Potions. If you want to, you can just read the directions while I prepare everything.”

He seemed like he wasn’t quite listening to what she was saying, instead his eyes, unfocused and slightly cloudy, were settled on her braid that snaked around her shoulder.”Er, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Okay.”

As the pair began, Y/N couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy looked tired. His normally pristine and glowing skin looked dull and lifeless, decorated with dark eye bags under his slate-grey eyes. She was struck with a sudden desire to ask if he was alright but decided against it. The furrow in his brow as he glanced over the directions reminded her that they were simply partners for the week--and that Slytherins generally got into a hissy fit if people tried to act too buddy-buddy with them too quickly.

“Add the moonstone until it starts to steam,” he said after a few moments, apparently not noticing that she was already emptying the powdered moonstone into the cauldron. “Stir until completely dissolved.”

“Add syrup of hellebore.”

“Stir until the consistency is akin to cream.”

This went on for the rest of the lesson--Malfoy softly instructing her while Y/N consulted her own set of directions, just in case. As she worked, she couldn’t help but notice how unusual his hair was. It was unlike any other white she’d ever seen before--instead, it had some kind of warm hue to it. Y/N knew that no one her age actually had naturally white hair--Malfoy clearly had some iteration of “blond”, whatever that meant--but all the other light haired wizards she had met had slightly grey tinges in their hair...not whatever he had going on. She shrugged it off and kept stirring.

An hour passed by much quicker than anticipated, and to her surprise, Malfoy never said anything even mildly irritating. Y/N stored this tidbit of information away with the interest of asking Tina why she thought he was such a dickwad.

“I think that’s all we have to do today,” Malfoy said once they had added the porcupine quills and set the lid on for the night.

“We really let it sit here until Monday?” she questioned, reviewing the parchment one more time. “That seems a little excessive.”

“Well, it’s not like--” He began waspishly before he took a breath and cast his eyes to the ceiling. “Er, I mean, I know that Slughorn casts a preservation spell on them over the weekend. There’s really no other way to do it without booking an entire day.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

He sent a surprisingly soft smile her way. It appeared that they had finished earlier than the rest of the students and had a couple more minutes until they were dismissed, so the silence around them was tense. Y/N decided to take a risk and ask something she assumed everyone, especially someone as allegedly ostentatious as Malfoy, liked talking about.

“So,” she began casually, twiddling her thumbs under the desk, “Have you found your soulmate yet?”

The few moments of complete and absolute quiet that followed after this question prompted her to send a glance over to Malfoy, who looked...completely stricken?

“Er....” His eyebrows furrowed as he looked her up and down. “Yes?”

Y/N had never had an interaction so awkward as she waited, tense and very weirded out, for him to just go ahead and pose the question back to her so she could break the ice and complain about how she’d searched far and wide for her soulmate and failed--but it never came. Malfoy just stared at her for another few heartbeats before he shut his slightly gaped mouth and turned to pack up his belongings.

Not another word was exchanged between them until Slughorn officially announced that they were all dismissed as long as their brewing stations were spotless.

Malfoy was out the door before she even had a chance to say goodbye.

<^>

“So?” Tina sat at the edge of her seat, waiting for her friend to relay all the details of her potions adventure.

“Super weird,” Y/N answered. “He was nice. Didn’t say anything mean about my house or parents or wealth or anything. I asked him about his soulmate, though, and he totally clammed up.”

Tina’s eyes narrowed as she shifted on her bench and drew closer. “I haven’t heard a whisper of anything about his soulmate. Poor bloke probably doesn’t have one. I’m not surprised...no one deserves to be stuck with him forever.”

“No, that’s not it,” Y/N countered. “First of all, he’s not bad. I told you. Second of all, he told me he had one and looked at me like I was stupid for not knowing. It was weird.”

“I wouldn’t sweat it. He probably thinks he’s so important and sought after that all anyone talks about is him and was just offended that you didn’t know, I guess. This is what I mean. He’s such a prick.”

“Maybe.” Y/N found herself looking over to the Slytherin table, her eyes stopping on the curiously colored hair of a certain 6th year. He seemed especially down, hardly touching the spoon in his stew and choosing to look like the definition of angst instead.

But in a very attractive way she admitted to herself. There was no denying it--Draco Malfoy was beautiful, in a tragic sort of way, like how paintings of imaginary places that you’ll never be able to actually visit for yourself are beautiful.

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, jarring her out of her whimsical train of thought and bringing a blush to her cheeks. For once, she was relieved that no one could see her in color.

<^>

By the time Monday rolled around, Y/N was feeling more and more uneasy about her whole situation. Malfoy ignited some kind of weird feeling deep inside of her--almost like butterflies--as he absentmindedly tapped his lips with his quill, studying the directions sheet in front of them.

“How was your weekend?” Y/N asked, her voice a little pitchier than she would’ve liked. He arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at this, hardly even bothering to glance her direction.

“The usual,” he drawled. “I studied, mostly.”

“Nice. Way to keep us all on our toes.”

The slight smile that stretched across his face and the dimples that followed nearly made her knees weak, her hand shooting out to grasp the edge of the table before they gave in. “Yeah. You know me. The wild card.” His voice seemed bored, but she was just glad that the words coming out of his mouth weren’t entirely insufferable.

Y/N sent him a soft smile, fiddling with the edges of her robes. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Tina watching them intently.

“We only have to stir it 12 times counter clockwise and 14 times clockwise and add the unicorn horn powder before we let it simmer until Wednesday,” Y/N mused as she finally tossed the parchment back on the table. “Easy work. We should be done in about a half hour, give or take.”

They made quick work of the directions, the smell of their potion taking an amiable lilac like scent.

“I think that means we didn’t royally fuck it up,” Draco offered as she rolled her sleeves back down and settled into the stool next to him.

Y/N smirked at him, a glimmer in her eyes. “We? Don’t you mean me?”

He laughed stiffly before immediately sobering up and packing up his things. “Sure. I’m going to ask Slughorn if I can leave early. See you.”

With that, he got up and left her alone. At face value, Y/N didn’t expect the situation to mean that much to her, but it left a bitter taste in her mouth and stung more than expected.

Shake out of it, Y/N, she chided herself. What does it matter, anyways?

<^>

A knock on her dorm room shook her out of a particularly thrilling study session for her DADA exam, whose notes she promptly shoved into her satchel at the suggestion of a welcome distraction.

“Come in!” she called.

The door opened to reveal a particularly devious looking Tina. “I come with questions.”

“Please distract me from that tragic exam tomorrow,” she moaned, throwing herself on her bed. “Anything is better than thinking about it.”

Tina’s lip quirked as she settled down next to her friend. “It’s about your dear Potions partner.”

“What about him?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you were looking at him today.” Tina propped her chin up into her hand. “You like him.”

“I most certainly do not!” Y/N said hotly. “I mean...I think he’s cute, and his hair reflects the light in this really cool way, but no! I’m not an idiot!”

“Of course you’re not an idiot,” Tina soothed. “He’s objectively a very pretty person. No harm in appreciating that. And now that you’ve spent a little more time with him, and you’re realizing that maybe he isn’t an arsehole, I could totally understand why you’d develop feelings for him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“How am I being ridiculous?”

“He’s already found his soulmate, Tina. I’m not masochistic enough to want to pine after a boy who already has his person.” As the weight of the words sunk in, Y/N could feel her chest tighten for just a moment. Tina just kept watching as she moved to gently wrap a hand around her shoulder.

“So say I do like him, just a little bit,” Y/N continued as her voice grew softer. “Say I actually let myself develop feelings for him even though I know there’s no way he’s my soulmate. Say I actually give in and have to see him every day knowing that he’s in love with someone else. Don’t you think that’s a little too much for me? I want to find my soulmate! I don’t want to mess around with anyone unless it’s with them.”

Her friend was quiet, but she moved her arm to wrap around Y/N’s frame.

“I’d just really like to find my soulmate already,” Y/N finished up. “And I’m afraid that they’re not even out there. So, no. No detours allowed.”

Tina smiled a little at this, sitting up to instead pat her friend on the back. “You’ve always been the more focused one. I respect that. But I am saying that there’s no harm in seeing other people while you wait.”

Y/N shrugged. “Yeah. Fairs. Now, I hate to say this, but I have a list of spells a metre long just waiting to be memorized for the exam tomorrow. I’d love to tell you the rest of all my gushy secrets once that’s taken care of.”

“Of course!” Tina kissed her friend on the cheek and skipped off. “Just don’t go too crazy studying. I still need a best friend to bitch to at breakfast.”

“No promises!”

<^>

“Add a little more powdered moonstone,” Malfoy instructed from her right, “Just until it starts to boil.”

Y/N went to reach for it, catching a glimpse of her partner on the way. There was something just so magnetizing about him, something so delicate and stunning. She couldn’t help but feel a quick twinge of envy for whoever his soulmate was.

The sound of the moonstone slipping into the potion pulled her back into reality, and she quickly stirred to avoid an unwelcome explosion.

“And now the chopped gillyweed.”

Y/N turned to their stockpile of ingredients, only to see whole cloves of gillyweed.

“I have to confess something,” she said, still stirring vigorously. Malfoy snapped to attention so quickly it almost made her jump. “I’m shit with a knife. Can you chop it for me? I have to keep stirring this anyways.”

What looked like disappointment flashed across his face for just a moment before he stood up and reached for a knife. “Sure.”

Y/N nodded and turned back to the concoction, careful to make sure that the moonstone wasn’t clumping together at the surface as she waited for Malfoy to be done with the gillyweed.

“Fuck!”

Y/N turned to see Malfoy’s hand covered in--no way.

His hand was covered in blood, as was the knife that was held tightly by his right hand.

“Fuck, fuck, can you hand me a towel?”

Y/N couldn’t help but stare as the words from her parents floated back into her head (Green is the color of life, blue is peace, red is passion and anger...).

“It’s red.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Your hand. It’s red.” Now that she looked closer, she could see hints of colors that she’d never seen before in him--a soft hue that reminded her of first kisses and the scent of roses in his cheeks and lips, a warm, sunny glow in his hair, and a cool, startling color in his eyes that seemed like the color for getting thrown into a cold lake on a summer afternoon.

He was staring right back at her, his eyes wide and his breathing quick.

“It’s you, isn’t it,” she breathed. “It’s been you all along. If only you hadn’t worn those blasted black suits all the time instead of your robes..”

The corners of his mouth crinkled into a smile.

“Ms. Y/L/N, step out of the way,” Professor Slughorn interrupted, rolling up his sleeves and getting his wand out. “Draco, boy, this looks deep. Get on up to the infirmary now. Don’t dally.”

“Meet me,” he whispered as he made to leave. “Tonight. In front of the library. I guess we have some things to discuss.”

“Yes, yes, I guess we do.” Y/N cheeks were hurting from smiling, and as he left the room, the color fading from her vision, she had never been so content to be in pain in her life.

final a/n: hi everyone :) welcome back! can’t wait to write more! sorry if this was a bit of a trainwreck...i haven’t written in a long time and this is the first thing i’ve done since college apps. all feedback is appreciated! thank you! also apologies for any plotholes or spelling errors! i wrote this in a day and i know it’s a little messy oops

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x y/n #draco #draco malfoy #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

891 notes · View notes

hana-bean · 3 years

Text

Close to you (4/7)

On the days of tears and on the days of smiles I will be by your side

---

“Wow, looking sharp, boys!”

Within the decorated front garden, already filled with aristocracy and guardians milling about, Ami, Rei, Makoto, and Minako strode up to the three men dressed up in suits—Seiya in red, Taiki in yellow, and Yaten in light blue. Each man tugged at their jacket and re-adjusted their tie to settle into the new tailor-made outfits.

“Yeah, these aren’t bad.” Yaten moved his shoulders. “I never would have thought blue was my color.”

“Psh, of course, it is. I chose the outfits!” Minako raised a hand while tittering in victory. “You’re welcome!”

Makoto pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “Are you all thirsty? The queen went with strawberry mojitos this year for her birthday cocktail!”

“That’s okay, we’ll wait for the waiters to come around—what happened to your thumb?” Taiki lost interest in the liquor once he noticed the brunette’s scratched-up, bruised digit, and furrowed his brow in concern.

Blushing, she covered it up with her other hand while muttering, “Oh uh, just… playing a game of thumb war…”

“And losing,” Ami smirked as she took a sip of her drink. Though her own thumb didn’t come out of the war clean either and was bandaged up.

Rei rested her elbow on Minako’s shoulder. “So, Seiya, how’s your leg doing?” She eyed him up and down, hungry for a snack already as she was three mojitos deep.

“It’s okay. I took a pain pill this morning and it’s just kind of a dull ache right now.”

“So like, if you took another pain pill later, you’d be able to move around a bit more? Like in the hips… area… place?” She gestured her hand over her pelvis

“I mean, sure… if I don’t get too drunk and not feel either of my legs.” He chuckled.

“Oh yeah, no… right… can’t have that!” Rei shook her head vigorously. “Gotta have you feeling at least one leg tonight.”

Seiya’s laughter trailed into nervousness, wondering if Yaten was onto something thinking they wanted to eat them.

“Please direct your attention to Queen Serenity, the first!”

The atmosphere filled with confusion in the form of a dull murmur as everyone turned toward the source of the announcement to watch the queen enter the garden area clad in her standard white dress and platinum crystal crown.

“Is she finished with the parade already?” Ami looked to the other women, receiving only shrugs for an answer. Nevertheless, everyone curtsied or bowed in succession as Serenity passed until she approached the main group.

“Gentlemen, you look great!”

The three men came up from their bows with smiles on their faces. “Thank you, your highness!”

When Rei came up from her curtsy, she caught eyes with Serenity, who stared at her for several moments looking apologetic, but then quickly averted her gaze to Seiya.

“How’s your leg doing?”

“It’s good!” He patted his hip. “I should be able to survive the day.”

“Good! Does that mean you’d be able to ride in the parade with me?”

“The parade?”

“Yes, further in the city! I ride in a motorcade and just kind of wave to people… thank them for coming out and getting drunk on my birthday.” She giggled. “Usually my husband rides with me, but I was hoping you’d be able to since he’s away this week. And also you’re a guest of honor.”

Taiki and Yaten looked at each other feeling like chopped liver.

There was no need to ask him twice. Seiya’s mouth curled into the most genuine and honored smile. “Yes, of course, your highness.”

“Wonderful!” She bounced with excitement. “We have to leave now, though.”

Ever the gentlemen, he pivoted on his good leg and held out his bent arm, enjoying every half-second of the feeling of her hand grasping the crevice of his elbow. They then began their saunter through the crowd and toward the driveway at a waiting car.

Rei had to pick her jaw up off the ground and turned toward Minako to commence in some harsh whispering. “That dirty little liar!”

“She totally has a thing for men with canes.” The blonde shook her head.

She growled before downing the rest of her drink. “I’m splitting Yaten with you then.”

“Uh, excuse you.” Minako locked her hand on her hip and waved around a finger in protest. “Split Taiki—there’s enough of him to go around.”

“I can’t climb that, I have a bad back!”

---

As the car came to a stop once it reached the parade queue, the top retracted to expose the two passengers to the afternoon sun of the young summer.

From his position sitting across Serenity, Seiya shifted on the leather seat. “So do I have the king’s blessing to be riding with his queen?”

“You do, actually.” She smirked. “In fact, he requested it.”

“Did he?”

“Well… not you… specifically… but he wanted me to have a chaperone.”

“And you choose the most injured out of the three of us?”

Her face glowed red. “Uh, well… I didn’t… see you as that… there are a lot of bodyguards around us anyway…”

It was too entertaining to see her stumble over herself, but Seiya had to keep in mind she was still royalty, and he shouldn’t get too comfortable. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help sending her a wink.

“If I have to put my cane to another use for you, I will.”

Serenity took a few moments to look away, her stomach erupting in a swarm of butterflies. And then the mimosas began to talk.

“I just feel very comfortable and safe around you.”

“It probably helps that my real job is to protect a princess. So this is very familiar territory.” He didn’t want to give himself too much credit.

That’s not what she meant, but it was probably for the best that he didn’t know that. She humored him. “Even after ten years?”

“The guardian purpose never leaves you.”

“That’s very true. I still carry around my transformation brooch.”

“Have you had to transform since Galaxia?”

“No, it’s been relatively peaceful. Just the normal societal problems—bar fights… illegal aliens…” Serenity’s heart sighed in relief to hear him laugh at her joke.

“In all seriousness, I’d be scared of you too if I knew you defeated the greatest enemy of the universe.”

Visibly flattered, she touched her shoulder to her cheek. “I’m surprised anyone even knows that.”

“Everyone in the known universe remembers Galaxia. Her reach was vast. And rightfully, so is yours. We were very excited to come here.”

“Really? Did you expect to meet me?”

“No.” His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “But everyone talks about how nice Earth is. It was actually really hard to sneak in. The security is tight.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. We had to time it perfectly to shoot in during a fireworks festival. Took us weeks to figure it out.”

“Well then, I’ll have to assign you to border security since you know all the tricks.”

He waited for a punchline, only to realize she was serious. A grateful yet regretful grin spread across his face. “That’s kind of you, your highness, but whether we find our princess or not, we must move on.”

Her face dropped while her brow furrowed. “Even after you find her?”

“Yes. Our ultimate end goal is to return to Kinmoku.”

“Right… right, of course.” The sinking of her heart was apparent through her darting, descending eyes. “But are you sure?”

“We want to go home. We’ve been away for so many years and that’s where we belong.”

“You belong here, too…”

While touched, he was more confused by her words than anything. And it must have been written all over his face in flashing letters since Serenity cleared her throat and tried to smile through the seriousness.

“That’s if you want to, of course—I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

“Um…” He breathed out a laugh. “Since we ate about two hours ago, I’m—”

“Great! Let’s get some food!”

“Do we have time to eat? The parade is about to start.”

“We have plenty of time to scarf down a box!”

“A box?” Pure dread drained the color from his face. “Of what?”

A bodyguard on foot had already approached the vehicle at the queen’s verbal summoning. And then a few seconds later, he was jogging further up the road and disappeared into the distant crowd.

“My favorite vendor is not too far away.” Serenity shook her shoulders in anticipation. “You’re going to love the dumplings there. Their pork and red bean fillings are heavenly.”

“Pork and red bean? Together?”

“Separate!” She giggled at the face he made. “They have savory and dessert ones.”

Her assurance helped Seiya’s slight appetite return and helped him relax. “I’ll only eat them if they look exactly like the ones on your head.”

“Maybe… They get more creative every year. It’s become a tradition for people to eat them on my birthday.”

“That makes sense. They don’t call you ‘Queen Odango’ for nothing.”

Her blue eyes rolled back in her head with a jaded groan. “Even in royalty, I can’t escape the nickname.”

“It’s cute. It suits you.” He tipped his chin toward her head. “What are your odangos filled with?”

“Secrets.” She giggled.

“Are you sure they can all fit up there?”

“The odangos are adjustable. That’s why my hair is so long.”

“Well, if you run out of room, I can always keep one for you.” He winked.

Unable to speak from the suggestive comment, Serenity’s blush extended down to her shoulders. They both sat in silence for a few moments until the queen felt her phone vibrate with a text notification. Her eyes widened in surprise once she looked at it, piquing Seiya’s curiosity.

“Is everything okay?”

“The database has a hit.”

---

Please note if you would like to follow this story, I will be updating the rest of the chapters under the tag: hana-bean closetoyou and other iterations of the spacing. I love you all!

#hana bean close to you #hanabeanclosetoyou #hanabean close to you #hana-bean close to you #hana-bean closetoyou #seiya x usagi 4eva #seiya x usagi fanfiction #seiya usagi fanfiction #seiya kou fanfiction #seiya x usagi

11 notes · View notes

misterbitches · 3 years

Text

hi! this is long as shit i’m sorry. i hope it makes sense. i ahve adhd and like 5 million learning disorders so this is just word vomit cos there’s so many words in my brain. my b.

i’ve had such a tough day so thank you for replying and sharing! @yeedak

i was thinking about what i wrote and i meant to clarify that as well. some cases are fine for both parties and it’s not like you weren’t consenting and it seems like you were happy! same with my friend who was dating a 20 yr old. if they’re happy you know i’ll clown on ‘em but yea. so for anyone that sees these posts your relationship with your partner who is older or whatever. i’m some dumb girl on the internet okay. ill side eye older ppl tho

i think a lot of people feel the same way you do now (me included.) it feels really good at the time but alter we can see the dynamics playing out. i’m 29 now and i think aging is just such a huge process. it’s wild how you at 31 are a totally different person, right?

and the US racism is probably some of the worst ever in its iteration because of slavery which started from europe etc but USA is so fucking unique bc of columbus bringing slaves here and displacing indigenous peoples or hispanola and because america is so influential the way it views race, particularly with black people as objects, has so deeply permeated into the current historical psyche globally. it’s fascinating to track how necessary anti blackness is to the flourishing of america but also the world at this point. also want to point out how fuckign scary sinophobia is here especially for covid. one is a straight historical line (black ppl + the US) and the other had to be manufactured and to continue to exploit the non-white americans and keep antiblackness in tact.i could go on about this all day. the pain of this place is immense.yet as bad as it is here, this is still the only place i truly feel safe as a black person. because of the unique experience we have in america and through the diaspora especially because we are veyr much ocncentrated here. it would be nice to like move to norway and have some alleviation financially or get free healthcare it’s just not feasible if no one looks like me. it’s fucking tough.

i hope you don’t hate it here though and people treat you with respect. but as you know being a woman and jewish and an immigrant....shit is tough. the USA is a hellhole. :( america is so deeply tainted and desperately bad because it was founded on strife and blood and there’s no way to reverse that and what this country did in turn when it gained enough power and could capitalize off of the colonial forefathers. this is why we hsould all luv revolution!!!

HOWMEVERRRR

boy oh boy oh BOY OH BOYYYYYYYY. well wlecome to the world of BL lmao especially as an adult with some obviously deep perspective just given your background. it is a fucking mess and it’s a hard mess to like but it pulls you in. i approach it like i do with soap operas since these are essentially telenovelas, you know? just like the drama at a billion. but the tricky part of that is like....what parts of it do we understand for critiquing? because so many of the shows are so bad at being like good pieces of things to look at just production wise and story wise. but i feel like these shows ask us to take them seriously, so why shouldn’t we take the content seriously? and this is being primarily peddled to young girls.

i bring this up often but i read this thing about yaoi and the interest younger women/girls have in BL and its fascination with pederasty essentially. this component i think is key when we talk about who gets affected by these things the most. society in general is bad 4 girls bla bla we know lmao but in “more sexually conservative” societies it may be harder for these girls to feel safe even expressing normal emotions romantically and sexually and particularly with guys. some people hypothesized, and i think i agree with this hypothesis, that they can live through the casualness of BL. they don’t feel threatened because they can put themselves into the shoes of the other character. oftentimes, the more feminine or the younger. this was in conjunction with the age gap aspect (they say pederasty as well because there’s unethical age gaps that r gross and that is indeed what we would at least call a touch of sexual abuse if people dont feel like calling it an obsession with youth and power and uhhh young ppl and perhaps kids) where maybe girls could see themselves in these situations as the person being saved, loved, taken care of, and sadly also sexually active and penetrated.

i think that’s just one aspect of it but i do think there’s validity in who gravitates towards it. i cannot imagine seeing this stuff and not getting enough information as a young kid, i sure as fuck know i didn’t!, and seeing these things and you look at it with 0 critique because you’re young and you may have no interest in it or you simply cannot understand what is wrong. no one is teaching you these things and these shows confirm it. and it is wild how intrinsic patriarchy is to BL although in its existence it also can’t be in line with patriarchy given the nature of two [cis] men!

it begs the question about the replacement aspect. is it just so girls can put themselves in these characters shoes? if so then that means we believe that gender is so interchangeable within our relationships and interactions and that doesn’t seem right. there’s more to lgbtq+ than just existing; it’s finding ways to communicate, finding a family, safety, your people, being a free person. there’s a lot to gain and a lot a lot to lose. and a gay man is also not a woman because those are also two distinct experiences. especially in societies that have a more hidden aspect to sexuality (idk how to word this bc the BL industry would NEVER survive in america but in a way there’s a more “progressive” look at homosexuality but it’s still fucked up because we live in a Society, you know? at the same time look at what we are doing to trans kids. literally waging war so it’s bonkers how we all collectively have some real progress happening but at the same time not at all. the concept of ‘ladyboys’ and the frequency we see trans people in thai shows is wild and something that we absolutely do not see here in the US. still, none of these groups feel safe or are getting better material conditions in either place. we just show the ways we can try and tolerate oppression witout eliminating it imo)

to me it is clear: it’s money. which most things exist to make money so. but also who is the audience for these shows? and they have to market towards them. all that said all hope is not lost there are some decent shows. it’s just like regular media on TV though where it’s so fucking saturated as an industry that it’s literally sifting through garbage. and there are some days when you can handle the trash and others where it really fucking hurts to watch the violence, the rape, the manipulation, the violations, the stupid messaging. i have never seen more people trying to do mental gymnastics and seeing if things were “technically rape” than in teh BL fandom and that is so fucking sad.

i came into these shows at 28 with almost 0 clue of what as media BL was like esp as media that countries can use as soft power with the revenue. but i realize like...i’m 29 now and so many people don’t have a sizeable, though not huge, amount of life experience. and i wonder for people on the internet who are usually searching for something if they spend so much time on it like what a 15 year old girl thinks. what a 20 year old girl thinks.

it is incredibly problematic and so awful but there’s also some rewards. if you haven’t i would definitely watch i told sunsset about you which i don’t think i’m going to finish and i doubt i’ll watch the second installment (watch this be a lie) but when i say some fucking impeccable storytelling and art? phew. now that is a fucking piece of media that works. it takes from moonlight heavily and you can see like...the artistic dedication is there and the story makes its world and sets up its stakes extremely well.

i think because this is marketed towards much younger people too they know they dont have to try as hard. but they SHOULD because then you can have a fucking masterpiece like that. i think even this prolific gay thai filmmaker (who is like solidly against the government) who is so respected (and who i like a lot! if u wanna know i can tell u lmao but the films are very uhhhhhhhh “artsy”) would like i told sunset about you. i wish more people had budget like that and also just cared about the stories. it’s the fucking magic of art to figure out what you can do but there is very little incentive honestly. idk i am very pessimistic. there are days when it’s really a great pick me up and distraction but it is never a place i would love for to feel seen or heard but i’m more of the mind of i never trust the mainstream until they prove me wrong ;)

or i never trust the mainstream and i still buy into it anyway and then cry when i don’t like what i see adn i yell “BOO GET OFF THE STAGE!” when an old man won’t leave a teenager alone

12 notes · View notes

retro-scorpio · 4 years

Text

Sexual Tension

I don’t know what else to call this little one shot, so you’re unfortunately stuck with this.

I wrote this short story a little while ago, and it’s basically a college AU featuring Julian Devorak from The Arcana with special appearances from Julian’s sister Portia, Nadia Satrinava, Count Lucio, and Asra Alnazar. I may end up adding to this later, but as of right now this is the finished product.

So, if you’re into fanfiction about characters from The Arcana, then enjoy this story.

Julian has the rather stereotypical reputation of being a loner, so much so that it’s impossible to track him down outside of classes. Even then, he’s an elusive presence in the room, always choosing to sit in the back and keep to himself, his notes, and his cup of black coffee. Rumors spread about him as a result of his mysterious nature, but he doesn’t seem to know about them or care. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. I don’t know how true any of it is, because ever since I stepped foot in this university, I’m seeing him just about everywhere I go.

I first got a glimpse of Julian when I bumped into his shoulder as I was trying to find one of my classes. We both apologized, and he directed me to where I needed to go. Later on that same day, I discovered that we were both in the same English class about texts from the Victorian era, and so I opted to sit next to him. He’s always in the campus library the same time I am, hunched over books and scribbling things down in his notebook, and there was even one time where I caught him prancing around outside in the early morning light as if he was part of an imaginary sword fight.

So, I shouldn’t be that surprised to see him at auditions for our school’s fall production of Sweeny Todd, but at the same time it has me wondering just how many more times our paths are going to cross. Perhaps he likes the story as much as I do and wanted to see how our school would adopt it.

“Hello!” a skinny, petite, pale, brunette lady exclaims excitedly at me, startling me and making me flinch slightly. “I haven’t seen your face before. I’m Lizzy.” She extends her hand out to me, and I shake it. Before I can even tell her my name, though, she asks bluntly,

“You don’t know what role you want, do you?”

“Pardon?” Lizzy sheepishly smiles.

“Sorry; I should have warned you in advance that I’m really good at reading people. Being involved in theatre does that to you over time.”

“It’s okay,” I respond. “Especially because you’re right; I’m not even sure if I’ll get a part at all. I just really enjoy the story and thought I’d give this a shot.”

“Have you ever acted before?”

“A couple times, yeah. When I was younger. I’ve always liked the idea of acting, but I’ve not had much time to devote to it.

“Well, here’s your chance to tip your toes back in the water! I think I have the perfect role for you.”

“You do?” I ask. Lizzy enthusiastically nods her head.

“You see that giant group of people over there?” She points out a crowd huddled on the other side of the auditorium, appearing to be watching Julian’s every move and swooning over him.

“They’re all wanting to play the role of Sweeny Todd’s assistant.”

“Let me guess: Julian’s playing Sweeny Todd.”

“Unofficially, yes,” Lizzy answers in a hushed tone. “He certainly has all of the traits of the character. The assistant is the most sought after role because in this iteration, they’re Sweeny Todd’s love interest and eventual partner in crime.”

“I thought Mrs. Lovett fulfilled that role.”

“In the classic, yes. This version is a sequel of sorts that answers the question, ‘what if Sweeny Todd didn’t die and instead managed to escape?’ So, he ends up traveling to and settling down in New York, where he picks up an assistant who helps him around his shop. He leads a normal life for five years until his daughter Johanna finds him and confronts him about what he did in London. The assistant happens to overhear their conversation and talks to Sweeny about it later that evening, and he or she—depends on who ends up getting the role—convinces Sweeny to pick up where he left off because there are a lot of corruption and starvation in New York.” Interesting. So, some artistic license has been taken with the story, which could either go really well or quite terribly.

“So, why do you think I would make a good assistant?”

“Because you’re the only person Julian’s noticed walk in here.” Before I can ask for Lizzy to clarify, a booming voice cuts through the chatter, and I’m forced to rush to the large group of people vying to play the assistant.

“Ladies and gentleman,” the voice rings out. It belongs to a tall, blonde man on the stage. “My name is Lucio, and I’m co-directing this play with the help of my dear friend Lizzy. Now, I’ve been told that there’s a long list of people wanting the role of Sweeny Todd’s assistant, so we’ll get that out of the way first. Will everyone fitting that description please step to the front of the auditorium and line up horizontally so that I can take a good look at each of you?” It becomes clear quickly that Lucio is pulling out the weeds before anyone even says a line, for he goes down the line and says no to the people he deems unfit for the role. A lot of it seems based on physical looks as he utter phrases like ‘too short’, ‘too fat’, and even ‘too ugly’ to a couple of individuals. By the time he gets to me, I’m finding it hard to swallow, but I try my best to not let Lucio know that I’m nervous. Instead, I look straight at him as he glances over every inch of me.

“Spunky,” he murmurs. I’m not wearing anything grand, so I wonder what brought on that comment. “I like it.” He moves on to the next person, and I hesitantly remain where I’m standing. Even though he gave me a compliment, Lucio didn’t explicitly tell me to stay like he did with the others still in line.

“Alright,” he states once he’s assessed everyone, clasping his hands in front of his chest. “So, for those no longer standing up here, you can either talk to Lizzy and audition for a different role or you can leave for the evening. The choice is yours. As for the rest of you, you’ll be ad-libbing your way through a pivotal scene in the play shortly. Julian, if you would hop on stage please.” Looking back at the seats, I see Julian sprawled out, as if he was right at home. He leisurely untangles himself and makes his way on stage.

“Bring out one of the folding chairs from backstage,” Lucio nearly barks at Julian. As Julian fulfills the request, Lucio tells us that we’ll be acting out the scene in which Sweeny Todd admits his crimes to his assistant.

“Julian will deliver the first line, thus setting the scene, but the direction it goes is entirely up to you. When I have seen enough, or if things are stalling, I will call scene. Remember, only one of you will get the role, so make a good impression. Julian!”

“Ready when you are!” Julian calls back. His voice is surprisingly smooth. The few times we’ve talked, he’s sounded a bit groggy, as though he needed more sleep. Combined with his tall stature, bright eyes, and muscular physique, it makes him quite the dream boat. I can see why so many people want to play his love interest.

“Excellent! You there. Pinky.” Lucio points at a girl with hot pink hair. “You’re up first.” Thank goodness. I did not want to go first. Lucio directs us to sit down in the second and third rows as he plants himself closer to the middle of the auditorium.

I must say, Julian is very good at improving. Not only does he know his character, but he’s also giving his partner opportunities to showcase their talents. Whether they take him up on his offer is another story. Some of them want to steal the scene, and others are using it as a means to flirt with Julian. Meanwhile, Lucio’s patience is slowly growing shorter as no one seems to be exactly who he’s looking for. He’s given everyone nicknames, some of them unflattering as time wears on. Fortunately for me, he calls me Spunky.

When I sit down on the chair on stage, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, envisioning the scene I’m about to play in my head. If this is a pivotal part in the play, then it needs to be full of suspense and drama. Just like that, a plan’s in place.

“Ready?” Julian whispers as I open my eyes back up. I nod my head, and he utters the opening lines.

“Elise, what you heard my daughter say is true. I am—well, was—the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. I murdered countless people. Judges, doctors, lawyers, even my own wife. I ran away from London because I didn’t want to get caught, but the truth is all of those people either deserved to die or were wishing for death to be bestowed upon them. I was simply doing the world a favor.”

“I don’t believe you,” I reply. There’s a fleeting moment where Julian’s caught off guard, but he quickly recovers.

“Oh, really? And why’s that, dear?”

“How am I supposed to believe that the same man who constantly stubs his toe on furniture and smiles at everyone that he meets is capable of ruthless, calculated, cold-hearted murder? For God’s sake, you can’t even walk into a room without making some sort of mess! You’re always relying on me to keep the shop tidy, and I feel like someone who was into killing people would be able to neaten things up themselves.” Julian sticks his hand in his pocket and pulls out a pencil.

“So, you don’t believe I have it in me to be a murderer.”

“No, I don’t.” The next thing I know, Julian’s leaning over me, his face inches away from mine and his pencil hovering over my nose.

“Let me tell you something, darling; this tool has helped me make my way up the social chain. No matter how rich a man is, there comes a day where he needs a shave, and I’m the best there is.” He moves the pencil down and presses it against my throat while maintaining eye contact.

“There’s a certain amount of pressure that you need to apply in order to get a smooth, clean shave. If you don’t put enough pressure, you end up missing a few spots. Put too much, and well, you end up cutting him. Draw the knife across the neck fast enough, and you have a dead man suffering from major blood loss.” He presses the pencil harder against my throat to emphasize his point, making it slightly difficult for me to breathe.

“Shall I show you what I mean, Elise, or have I made myself clear?”

“I believe you,” I gasp. He immediately releases pressure and takes a couple steps back, smirking at me.

“Good. Now, if that’s all you wanted to discuss, then I suggest you head up to bed for the evening. We have a long day tomorrow.” He starts walking away from me, but Lucio hasn’t yelled for the scene to end, so I assume that I have to keep going.

“Why America?” Julian stops in his tracks and turns to face me.

“Pardon?”

“Why did you flee to America of all places? You could have easily traveled to France or Italy, but instead you chose New York.” Julian sighs.

“Like I said, I didn’t want to get caught. I wanted to start a new life, and word travels quicker from England to other countries in Europe than it does from England to America. The two countries are separated by an ocean, after all.”

“Have you ever thought about doing it again?”

“Doing what again?”

“Using your profession as a means of…extermination.”

“Elise, I was in a really dark place when I executed that plan in London. I’m not the same person I was five years ago, and if I were to do it again, I’d be signing my own death sentence.” I get up from the chair and slowly walk up to Julian, worried that my next actions are going to make Lucio end the scene.

“My father was killed by a drunk police officer who mistook him for another man, and my mom was raped and beaten by the judge overlooking the case.” I gently place my fingers around his chin and stand on the tips of my toes, bringing my face closer to his.

“The rich and powerful are just as evil and corrupt in New York as they are in London, Mr. Todd. They get to do whatever they want with impunity, even if it costs the lives of innocent, hardworking people. Someone has to make them pay for their crimes, or their offspring will continue being monsters among the human race. Is that something you’re willing to live with?” Julian looks like he’s beginning to run a fever at this point with his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. I plant my feet back on the ground and walk around him, heading towards an imaginary door.

“Good night, Mr. Todd.”

“Scene.” Even though Lucio’s voice is the softest it’s been during this entire process, the auditorium is silent enough for it to carry.

“Well, Spunky, I knew there was a reason I liked you. Congratulations, you have the role. Asra, you’ll be Spunky’s understudy, because you’re the only one that has as much chemistry with Julian. Everyone else who was auditioning for the assistant, you can either stick around and try for another role or leave; it doesn’t matter that much to me.”

I end up staying through until the end of auditions, mainly because I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to leave or not. Turns out, once all the roles were filled to Lucio’s satisfaction, he gave everyone a copy of the rehearsal times, so it’s a good thing that I stuck around after all. Plus, I got to watch Julian perform on stage. I must say, the way he carries himself when he’s acting is quite entertaining, to say the least.

Speaking of Julian, he practically runs up to me as I’m leaving the auditorium.

“Well, hi, Julian,” I greet him, surprised that he sought me out. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” he replies quickly, his words rushing together into a jumbled mess. “I was just wondering if you would maybe like to walk with me? Since we’ll be working closely together, I would like to get to know you a little, but it’s totally fine if you just want to be alone.”

“I wouldn’t mind a little bit of company.” Julian smiles enthusiatically, and it makes my heart race.

“Great!” The two of us walk outside and start meandering around.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten your name,” Julian tells me. “Isn’t that weird? We keep seeing each other around campus, and we even share a class together, but I don’t know what to call you.” Is Julian normally this nervous? He’s certainly a fast talker, and he’s rambling a bit.

“My name’s Carina.” He stops in his tracks and gawks at me.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah…” What about my name is making Julian awestruck? He doesn’t hate the name, does he?

“Carina was the name of a pet rabbit I had when I was younger. I’ve always liked how sophisticated and beautiful it sounded, and I thought that if I was to have a little girl, she would be called Carina.” He takes a momentary pause and shakes his head before adding,

“Then again, naming a child after a childhood pet isn’t exactly normal.” He continues walking, and I kind of have to jog to catch up to him.

“So, Julian, how long have you been acting? You looked like a professional on stage.” The compliment makes him flush.

“I’ve been acting since I was about five,” he answers softly, avoiding my gaze. “It started with children’s theater and stuff like that, but when I was ten, I attended my first summer drama camp, and my love for acting has grown ever since. Lucio ran the camp, you know. Has for many years.” I had no idea Lucio and Julian had that much history together.

“Do you like working with Lucio?”

“He’s very passionate about his work, which makes him a very intense person to be around. If things don’t go his way, he’s prone to throwing fits and screaming at people. Despite of that, he does manage to put together spectacular shows and treats everyone to a nice party in the end, so I would say working with Lucio is similar to a roller coaster. It’s both scary and exciting at times.”

“I see.” Julian finds a bench and beckons for me to sit down with him. Once we’re seated, he asks,

“What made you decide to try out for this play? Was it in order to get closer to me?” Before I can answer, he quickly backtracks.

“I don’t mean that in an arrogant way. God knows I’m way too insecure to think that way. It’s just that ever since Lucio accidentally let it slip that I would be the male lead in this play, I’ve heard people whispering about me all over campus, revealing to their friends what they would do to me if they got to play the assistant. To be honest, all of the attention makes me sick. I mean, I enjoy being in the spotlight when it comes to acting, but when I’m not on stage, I…”

“You just want to be left alone, don’t you?” Julian clasps my hand and nods his head.

“Well, Julian, if it makes you feel any better, I auditioned because I really enjoy the story of Sweeny Todd and wanted to see if I had what it took to get a role. That’s it. No nefarious intentions involved.” He visibly relaxes.

“Thank you, Carina,” he sighs contently. “You have no idea how much that means to me.” He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses it softly, making me look away and blush. This play is going to be interesting, to say the least.

I wish there was a way to describe how today’s rehearsals went without being vulgar, but when you’re forced to repeatedly act out a scene where you’re passionately arguing with someone that you feel unresolved sexual tension towards and from, the most mild way to go about it would be to state that it was like two animals in heat. I’m honestly surprised that Julian and I managed to get through rehearsal without tearing each other’s clothes off on stage in front of everyone in the auditorium to see.

You see, this scene involves Elise, the assistant, yelling her grievances at Sweeny Todd, which revolve around money and sex, and Sweeny shouting that those problems wouldn’t exist if she didn’t essentially tell him to become a criminal again. This of course makes Elise more angry at Sweeny, and the scene ends with her storming out of his room and slamming the door behind her. Lucio calls this scene “the beginning of the end”, because after this point in the play, their relationship quickly becomes toxic to the point where they want to kill each other.

Speaking of Lucio, he’s been a key player in creating the tension between Julian and me, because he continuously forces us to approach the edge of no return, but he never allows us to go over it, not even outside rehearsal. Julian’s trying his best to be a gentleman and abide by Lucio’s rules, but I can tell that he’s getting worn out by constantly pushing down anything he may feel towards me and only allowing those emotions to come out when we’re on stage.

I suppose that’s why Asra pulls me aside as soon as Lucio dismisses us for the evening.

“Carina, there’s something you need to know about Julian,” he tells me softly but firmly.

“Go on…” Asra sighs.

“He’s a bit of a pressure cooker. He shoves any feelings he deems undesirable down until he can’t contain them anymore, and then they explode out of him with no way for him to control them until they’re completely out of his system. And it’s not just feelings like anger or sadness; he can get quite horny as well.” Before I can even reply to anything Asra has said, he quickly adds,

“I’ve seen the way you two have interacted during practice, and I don’t want to see you hurt. Sure, he’ll light up your world, but only for as long as he has to act with you. The moment the curtain drops on the final performance, he’ll throw you away like the burnt match you’ve become while spending time with him.” So many questions zoom through my brain, but right as I pick one to ask Asra, Julian walks to us and practically drags me away from him with a fake smile plastered on his face.

“Did something happen between you and Asra?” I ask Julian as we walk outside the auditorium.

“It’s a long story,” Julian mutters scornfully.

“I don’t have anywhere I have to be, so spill.” Julian stops and turns to face me, grabbing my hand as he does so.

“Carina, there are just some things that are best left in the past. Let’s just say that Asra and I aren’t the best of friends.”

“Why?”

“Why do you care so much?” Julian’s voice gets a bit nastier and louder, making me feel defensive.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I nearly shout sarcastically. “It’s not like anyone would get curious if someone told them that a friend of theirs treats people like they were pieces of trash to be disposed of at the first opportunity.” Julian’s eyes briefly widen in shock before decisively narrowing in anger.

“Maybe some people are trash. You try your best to hold on to them because they mean a lot to you, but in the end you have to cut ties before they hurt you.”

“What in the hell are you talking about, Julian?”

“I’m talking about Asra!” We’re both yelling at this point. “He’s always painting himself as the victim, and he never acknowledges any of his wrongdoings!”

“What?!” Julian lets go of my hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in order to calm himself down.

“Look, if you want to know the truth, you’re not going to get it from either Asra or me, because we both were self-centered at the time.”

“Then who does know the truth?”

“Why don’t I have you meet her?”

As it turns out, the girl in question happens to be in an apartment Julian lives in. Initially, I thought she was the short, plump, red-headed individual who greeted us when we stepped inside, but then she quickly dragged Julian away, talking excitedly about finally having a subject for the painting she was working on. Before I know it, a door slams, and I’m left alone.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?” a smooth, female Indian voice tells me, making me jump out of my skin. When I recover from my shock, I find myself face-to-face with a regal-looking woman. She’s just wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but her face looks very queenly. I follow her request and sit down in one of the chairs in the kitchen, which is the first room you’re in when you walk inside the apartment.

“You must be Carina,” the woman states, pouring hot water into two mugs and putting in tea bags. “Julian’s told me a lot about you, so I figured it was only a matter of time before he brought you over. I’m Nadia.” She walks over to the table and sits in the chair next to me, handing me a mug as she does so.

“How do you know Julian?” I nervously ask. There’s something about her that tells me that I’d do well to not piss her off.

“In simple terms, I’m a friend of his who’s mentoring his sister. She was the one that you saw first.” I take a sip of tea.

“What about in complex terms?” Nadia smirks at me.

“You’re clever. Julian could stand to be around someone like you.”

“Thank you,” I reply shyly.

“I’m Julian’s…unofficial therapist, you might say. Then again, I’m kind of everyone’s unofficial therapist, except for Portia. Julian’s sister,” she quickly adds upon seeing the confused look in my eyes. “Anyway, I deal with secrets. Secrets that can either bring people together or make them despise each other.”

“How do you do that?”

“Why, I talk to people. I listen to them, note anything interesting, and pass it along to whoever’s interested in it, for a small fee. Speaking of which, I’m sure there’s something you’d like to ask me. I have a feeling Julian didn’t bring you over here just to meet his sister and her teacher.” I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.

“I don’t know if you would be able to answer this, but something happened earlier this evening that raised some questions for me.” I quickly recount what Asra and Julian had told me after practice, and Nadia nods her head as I talk.

“To be honest, I’m not surprised,” Nadia responds. “Asra’s quite petty, and Julian can be melodramatic sometimes. They’ve both come to me complaining about the other, and I’ve seen their interactions with each other over the years, so I have a lot of information about the nature of their relationship. I just need one thing from you.”

“I understand.” Nadia smiles, making her look that much more like royalty.

“Good. So, tell me: how do you feel about Julian?” I nearly choke on my tea, and I feel my face start to burn up in embarrassment and something else, something more animalistic.

“I see,” Nadia replies to my nonverbal response. “You’re both pulled so taut that you’re about to snap.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Only because you both blush at the mere mention of the other. How hard has Lucio been pushing you?”

“We’re not allowed to be intimate off stage. We can be friendly, but that’s it.” Nadia sighs.

“Classic Lucio. Gets completely blindsided by Asra and then takes it out on you.”

“What do you mean?” Nadia proceeds to launch into the story of Julian and Asra. Apparently, they started off as rivals because Asra was jealous of Julian becoming Lucio’s favorite without even trying when he had to work tirelessly for two years prior just to get Lucio’s approval. The rivalry was one-sided, though, because Julian was blissfully unaware that Asra felt any ill will towards him.

When Julian was a sophomore in high school and Asra a senior, they ended up being the lead characters of one of Lucio’s original plays. Julian had shot up over the summer and was eight inches taller than Asra, which led to Asra developing feelings for Julian. This, of course, presented some internal conflict for Asra up until Julian had expressed interest back. From there, their relationship burned bright and fast.

Things between them started going downhill quickly when Asra would manipulate Julian into doing sexual things that Julian most likely wouldn’t have done on his own and Julian would either get super clingy or super distant. Nadia had tried to get them to work things out, but as soon as the final show ended, Julian broke up with Asra and ghosted him as much as he possibly could.

“So, why exactly would Asra care about my wellbeing if he really doesn’t care for Julian?” I ask Nadia once she’s done with her tale.

“Well, once Asra and Julian broke things off, Julian developed the habit of getting romantically close to his costar only to drop them once the production was over. Since you’re pretty new to the acting world, Asra wouldn’t want your experience to be soured by anything Julian does. At least, that’s what he’s told me.”

“But?” Nadia smirks knowingly.

“You’re the first person since Asra that’s made Julian…I don’t want to say lovestruck, because that sounds overdramatic, but maybe pleasantly nervous.”

“Really?” She nods her head.

“If you stay over here long enough this evening, Julian’s bound to show you what I’m talking about.”

Julian’s managed to contain himself, all things considered. His sister Portia kept teasing him about me, Nadia awarded her with smirks, smiles, and some extra dessert, and it seemed like every other commercial on TV was based on a cheesy romantic comedy.

But then Nadia leaves for the evening and Portia goes off to bed and Julian starts channel surfing only to stumble upon a show that featured a girl moaning loudly as a guy’s using his dick like a jackhammer to drill an additional hole into her.

That’s when I can tell that some frayed strings in Julian are snapping. His face becomes flushed, his eyes dilate with a mixture of shock, horror, and arousal, and his mouth’s agape at the scene unfolding in front of him. I myself am having a difficult time keeping my composure, but I’m able to remain sane long enough to gently take the remote from Julian’s hand and shut the TV off. In a blink of an eye, my hand replaces the remote as Julian turns his body so that he’s facing me.

“C-Carina,” he stammers. “I…I’ve been trying so hard, and I—” As quickly as he grabbed my hand, I place my index finger on his lips and lean close to him. Somehow, his face becomes even redder.

“Julian, what do you want to do to me?”

“I don’t know if I should—” I cut his sentence abruptly by clamping my hand over his mouth.

“Just nod or shake your head, okay?” Julian nods his head, his gray eyes sparkling in the living room light.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Nod.

“Do you want to make out with me?” Nod.

“Do you want to run your hands all over my body?” Nod.

“Do you want to leave bites all over me?” A more hesitant nod.

“Do you want to do to me what the man on the screen did to that girl?” A very slow, almost ashamed nod, but a nod nevertheless.

“I want you to listen to me, Julian, because I’m only saying this once. When I remove my hand from your mouth, I want you to do me on this couch. You can go as rough or soft as you want, but I don’t want you to stop until you’ve orgasmed. I don’t care what Lucio’s going to say when he sees us at our next rehearsal; his decisions have pulled you so taut that you’re snapping right in front of me as we speak. Do you understand?” After a moment of serious contemplation, a quite shy nod.

“I’m going to count to three, and then I’m leaving you to do whatever you want.” Nod.

“One.” Julian swallows.

“Two.” Something inside me quivers in anticipation.

“Three.” Time gets jumbled for about five seconds, and when it straightens itself back out, Julian and I are at the other end of the couch; he’s moved on top of me and is frantically kissing every part of me that he can touch. I can’t really keep up with him, not that I’m complaining.

#thearcana #juliandevorak #portiadevorak #asraalnazar #nadiastratinava #countlucio #collegeau

5 notes · View notes

britishassistant · 4 years

Text

But I Like One Piece (17)

Unsurprisingly, they stay in for the rest of the day.

Naruto and Lee badger her to show them more of the “singy thing language”, so she writes out the alphabet for them.

It’s actually a bit difficult to translate individual letters back into the language of this world, which is based on grouping sounds that all involve vowels. The idea of singular consonants without that does take a bit for them to grasp.

Eventually she just grabs paper and some pencil and shows them how to write their names.

Lee’s name is easiest, and he delights in how quickly he masters the curves of the “r” and “e”s to write it out over and over again, each version getting a little bit more of a flourish.

Naruto struggles a bit more with his, given the larger number of letters in both his first and last names and his insistence on trying to write the cross of the “t” and then the stalk, like it’s a hiragana character.

“But why can’t I write it that way?” He whines.

“Because that’s not the way it’s written.” She replies primly, avoiding her mother’s knowing gaze and memories of being gently scolded for writing hiragana characters like they were “t”s.

Years of giving up pudding cups have proven that she’s weak to Naruto’s whining, so eventually she just gives up and lets him write it whatever way he wants to.

It’s not long until the adults join in as well.

Okaa-san’s handwriting is flawless like her calligraphy, producing the most legible iterations of her name once she’s got the spelling down.

Gai-sensei produces the most written versions of his name, though that’s probably her fault for telling him his name could either be spelled G-A-I or G-U-Y. He seems to have decided to claim both spellings for himself, if his dedication to making sure he can write each properly is anything to go by.

Otou-san is just worrying over whether his name looks better with or without the “u” on the end.

Gai-sensei is also very interested in directions as well, for some reason. He makes her go over «left», «right», «up», «down», «behind», «ahead», «go», and «stop» until he, Naruto, and Lee have them all quasi-memorized.

Then her mother asks her about English swear words.

It isn’t until she’s finished running through them all and Okaa-san sweetly says, “If I catch you saying any of those, you’ll be banned from cooking for a week, alright?” that she realizes she’s been tricked.

Otou-san and Gai-sensei are awful at muffling their snickers.

They end up preparing a very late lunch/early dinner.

Turns out divulging her biggest secret and trying to guide her family through the travesty that is the English language is long and hungry work.

A few filets of the lamb come out to rest for an hour, because Naruto asks about some of the dishes from her past life.

While the idea of making a Proper Roast Dinner on her own still turns her stomach, she figures she can at least adapt the meat into the “plate-2-bowls” format.

She crushes a clove of garlic and takes a generous donation from Habu-san to prepare a marinade. “So, any more questions?”

“What kind of training did you do in your Springtime of Youth?” Lee asks, eagerly.

She feels sweat trickle down the side of her face as she finishes marinating the meat and sets it aside to rest before grilling. “Ah, not much really. I was more the... scholarly type—I’d rather have my nose in a book than do much physical activity.”

The thought of her past self trying to tackle anywhere near the amount of exercise she does now...

“I would die.” She states. “That me would die even trying to do a half-lap around our training field.”

There’s a moment of silence that feels highly judgmental.

“...That’s kinda lame, Mayu-chan.” Naruto says.

“I know.” She hides her face in her marinade-covered hands. “Can we not talk about it please?”

“You were the one who opened the topic of conversation, sweetheart.” Okaa-san says, putting the rice on.

“Regardless of the folly of the past, your determination to fulfill your creed has allowed you to blossomed into the Springtime of your Youth!” Gai-sensei shoots her a thumbs-up and a reassuring beam.

She smiles back weakly as Otou-san starts wiping the bits of rosemary and garlic off her face with a wet cloth and a chuckle.

After the marinade is cleaned off and the meat is grilling, she’s left to puzzle over what side dishes to make.

Traditionally, the lamb would be served with root vegetables—potatoes or turnips or swedes, parsnips roasted in honey—but alongside the rice, that many carbohydrates in one meal would be far too heavy, especially for the others who are used to smaller, more balanced portions.

Just as she’s wondering what to do, a bunch of green onions appears on the counter in front of her.

Her mind ticks over possibilities. They’re not leeks, but maybe roasted and served in miso soup...

She grins and grabs a knife.

The onions are diced into perfectly even rounds, sizzling to a perfectly browned texture before the dashi comes to a boil and tofu is cubed and dropped in alongside the onions and some dried seaweed to mellow the flavor.

Somehow a red cabbage appears under her knife, and is chopped into manageable slivers, joining orange slices without the skin and a light vinaigrette that tastes a little sharp, like lemon, on the plate.

The lamb filets come off the grill, each one a warm pink in the middle when they’re sliced against the grain.

The scent of cigarette smoke is barely noticeable under the delicious smells of food.

The cuts of lamb are arranged against the little piles of salad, the umami of the meat and its marinade balanced by the more refreshing flavors of fresh fruit and vegetables.

The miso barely splashes as she pours it into six bowls, onion and tofu bobbing merrily as she spoons generous portions of rice into the rice bowls.

She turns around, ready to serve—

Only to find the other occupants of the kitchen staring at her, frozen.

Gai-sensei’s mouth is hanging open. Otou-san has a hand on his bokkem.

Lee’s eyes are wide and starry. Naruto’s mouth is curving into an excited grin.

Her mother swallows and takes a breath to compose herself. Her voice is slightly strangled.

“Mayu. Let’s talk about boundaries for y—for those deities to follow when they’re interacting with my little girl, alright?”

A shiver goes down not-her spine at the look in Okaa-san’s eyes.

Late lunch/early dinner is delicious, even with the revelation that she had had help (Sanji’s help!) for cooking a lot of it.

According to Lee and Naruto’s enthusiastic descriptions, he’d actually appeared behind her, washed out and slightly blue and see-through, like an underdeveloped photograph, but there. He’d nudged ingredients towards her, steadied her hands while cutting and pouring, then looked over to them with a press of his fingers to his lips and a wink before vanishing just as she turned around.

She has to cover her face with her hands and turn to the side in her chair so she can kick her legs wildly at the thought of receiving Sanji’s unseen aid, let alone him actually touching her.

Her cheeks feel like they could melt snow, they’re so hot.

Gai-sensei volunteers to search all over Konoha in order to find Sanji for her mother, who is not very happy that the chef escaped before she could Have A Word with him.

To be fair, if she were Sanji, she’d probably run away before her mother could Have A Word with her too.

Lee is also on board with this plan, though both he and Gai-sensei are stumped when Naruto asks where to start looking.

Otou-san suggests they build a shrine for the StrawHats in the back garden.

“After all,” He says, swallowing a bite of lamb. “Providing these deities with a place of worship might help...ground them, somewhat, lessen anything nasty if they’re accidentally offended. It’ll give us a sure way to contact them whenever we want too, rather than just waiting for them to pop up willy-nilly.”

“An excellent idea, Jirou!” Gai-sensei cheers. Her father flushes bright red and shoves more food into his mouth.

On Monday, she goes to the Academy flanked by Naruto and Lee.

The masks are in the branches of practically every tree they pass.

She keeps her gaze on the ground and clutches Lee and Naruto’s hands a little tighter in her own.

Lee doesn’t seem to want to let go when it’s time for them to go to their separate classes. She gives him a hug, and that seems to placate him a little.

Naruto just doesn’t let go.

For the entire morning.

Even when it becomes difficult to write down notes for Iruka-sensei’s lectures, he holds on tight to her hand or her wrist.

She feels a bit bad for feeling grateful when they take their usual places at either end of the lunch table, but she was beginning to get worried he wouldn’t even let go if she needed to use the restroom.

Everything seems to pass as normal, even with Sakura’s strange behavior and Chouji’s continual bouts of summer flu. She’s getting quite worried about his health at this point.

They stay behind after the Academy day ends to ask Iruka-sensei about shrine-building. While he personally doesn’t know much about it, he very helpfully points them towards a few stores that do specialize in that sort of thing.

Okaa-san and Lee are waiting outside the gates to walk them home.

She sleeps in the big bed with Okaa-san and Otou-san like she did over the weekend.

A week goes by.

Nothing out of the ordinary happens.

She trains with Gai-sensei in the mornings, they all eat breakfast together, she, Lee and Naruto go to the Academy, she and Naruto eat with their friends at lunchtime, either Okaa-san or Gai-sensei escort them home, the saga of convincing a store to sell them the components for shrine building continues, they eat dinner together, and she sleeps in the big bed.

The problem isn’t that shrine components aren’t available for sale. They are. There are even little kits for mini home shrines that people can build.

The problem is that those shrines are all designed to be dedicated to this random sage guy or to dead people. And she doesn’t really think it’ll be well received if they make a dead person shrine for any of the StrawHats except maybe Brook.

But making one of those for him and a different one for everyone else would also be discriminatory and break his heart. Except he doesn’t have a heart to break.

Yohoho, Skull Joke.

Only Otou-san finds that funny. She sulks a little, but digresses.

Even the store owners who make personalized shrines get suspicious when they hint that maybe they would like something for worship that wasn’t dedicated to the sage guy.

They’ve been turned down in three stores so far, and outright banned from one.

In her defense, she wouldn’t have said anything about the owner’s mother if he hadn’t called Naruto a demon and those other awful things.

She gets another cooking ban anyways.

By the start of the following week, her parents don’t quite look at her like she’ll disappear if they take their eyes off of her.

Naruto and Lee stop keeping a death grip on her hands as well, though they do still hug her a lot more than they used to.

She likes the hugs, so she doesn’t bring it up. She’s mostly just glad she gets to sleep in her own bed again.

Chouji’s illness seems to be clearing up too, slowly but steadily. He still has a few hot flushes, but he’s a bit more alert now. When her current cooking ban is over, she plans on making him some chicken noodle soup to help speed up his recovery.

Shikamaru keeps laughing when she tries to enlist his help in identifying if there’s any flavors he particularly likes or doesn’t like, which is beginning to irritate her a little bit.

Sakura’s...not getting better. At all.

Ino’s face seems to be set in a smiling rictus these days, desperately trying to bridge the growing distance between her and Sakura.

Shikamaru and Chouji have been doing more stuff with her, like partnering up for group projects and walking home together, which helps a bit she thinks.

Naruto and Kiba are just on eggshells. Naruto is tiptoeing around them, trying not to do anything that sets off another scolding.

Kiba’s reached the stage where he’s yelling back in self-defense the moment Sakura turns to him and opens her mouth, though every argument leaves both of them looking even more miserable than before.

Hinata’s tried having a word with her, but she just reported back that Sakura either genuinely doesn’t seem to think there’s anything wrong or is doing a very good job of pretending.

She’s putting money on the latter, because the idea of the former being true is too unpalatable for her to swallow.

The weirdest thing is that aside from Ino, Naruto and Kiba, Sakura’s been treating the rest of them like normal.

It does throw her off kilter somewhat. Still, she, Hinata and Shino do their best to adhere to their plan of “be civil, but shut down any attempts to belittle Naruto and Kiba before it gets too bad”.

Uchiha has surprisingly been the best enforcer of this particular policy. All it takes is one disapproving look from him, and Sakura freezes in the middle of what she was saying like a rabbit in front of a hunter, then quickly turns to talk to Hinata about something.

She’d never thought she’d say this, but borderline assaulting chunin together may’ve been the best thing to happen for the three of them.

Still, Sakura is their friend after all. They’re not just going to abandon her. Even if she’s going through...whatever this is.

She’s asked Okaa-san and Otou-san covertly, but apparently all is well in the Haruno household according to Kizashi and Mebuki Haruno, so she’s at a bit of a loss as to what could be going on.

It had better not be a weird, warped form of puberty, courtesy of parasitic chakra somehow turning people into jerks. She’ll—she’ll—she doesn’t know what she’ll do if it is, but she won’t be very happy, that’s for sure.

To add to this confusion, this year boys and girls get split up for lessons after lunch.

The girls are taught by a different teacher to Iruka-sensei, a mousey woman with glasses who tells them that they will be learning how to blend in to civilian society as kunoichi.

She had no idea what that word means.

When she asks the teacher, the woman looks like she might burst into tears for some inexplicable reason. She then refuses Hinata’s offer of a tissue violently, as if the poor girl had offered her a bomb instead of something to blow her nose on.

It does not get better from there.

She’d anticipated that getting The Talk from Otou-san and Okaa-san, or from Gai-sensei, would be awkward enough. She thinks that even Gai-sensei would do it better than this teacher though.

At least he wouldn’t cry at every mention of the word “sex”. Probably.

She makes a mental note to give her friends the less confusing version later.

Hinata is constantly praised in this class for her ability to appear harmless and ladylike, while Ino is chastised for being too overtly “ninja”, whatever that means.

She gets told that, while her feigning ignorance is extremely credible and will serve her well on intelligence missions and under interrogation conditions, she needs to work on being less... memorable.

She’s...fairly certain that’s positive? Relatively certain. Kinda.

The way the teacher’s lower lip is set to a permanent wobble makes it hard to tell.

6 notes · View notes

theliberaltony · 4 years

Link

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

America is a little matryoshka doll of panic right now; pop open each layer to reveal a new, worrying scenario. For months the country was focused on reopening the economy, which had its own complicated set of problems. But only recently has a broader swath of America tuned into the mess nestled inside it, one that parents have been sitting with for months: what to do with the kids.

There has been no federal plan to help American parents with child care, and they continue to wonder whether schools will really open their doors come the new school year. That lack of action is in direct contrast to other crises that have struck America recently. After the financial crash of 2008, there was a bailout and a stimulus plan. After the protests against police over the last few months, officials in cities and states responded with promises of better actions in the future but also, immediate policy implementation: New York state repealed a law that had shielded police personnel files, while the Minneapolis City Council voted to begin a process that could eventually lead to the dissolution of the city police as it’s now known.

But on child care and school, a specific, urgent response has been missing, or at least one that acknowledges our new reality. President Trump threatened to withhold federal funding for education if schools didn’t open back up, counter to schools’ insistence they need more money to provide a safe education amid the pandemic. While the CARES Act, an omnibus COVID-19 relief bill signed into law in late March, gave extra stimulus funding to families with children, schools and child care businesses so they could remain afloat, a Democratic-backed bill to give a $50 billion bailout of the child care industry has gotten little attention. Teachers around the country have voiced doubt that necessary safety measures for in-school teaching will be sufficient, and Los Angeles Unified School District, one of the country’s largest school systems, has decided not to reopen classrooms when schools go back in session in August. Some worry that while distance learning is safer, socially different children and those without stable internet connections or computers — who are already at the margins in normal times — will fall irrevocably behind.

There is no cohesive solution to America’s child care problem. But the relative inattention to this crisis, one that’s so foundational to a functioning society, the economy and family units across the country, is revealing. It shows that for all the changes that have happened in American life — more female elected officials, a MeToo movement and a workforce that is around 47 percent female — our power dynamics remain fundamentally skewed. We are failing to collectively understand what our most critical and pressing problems actually are.

“Care in general has always been seen as a sideline issue,” Vicki Shabo of the left-leaning think tank New America said. “A nice-to-have and not something that’s necessary, and not something that’s central for adults to be productive in the economy.” Of course, now we’re seeing how much of a misunderstanding that is. In a country where most men and women work even when they have children, having child care is inextricably linked to economic productivity — and not having it often hurts women most. U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics data from 2015 found that in households with children under 6, women spent an hour a day doing child care, compared to the 25 minutes of care provided by men. It’s easy to extrapolate this trend for pandemic times: American women will bear the brunt of the school and child care crisis.

Yet, child care in particular hasn’t often found itself at the forefront of political debate. Experts and activists I talked to for this story all used the same framing to talk about why: an American narrative that child care problems are individuals’ problems, not society’s.

“If you think about child care traditionally before the pandemic, you probably didn’t think about it too much before you had kids,” Melissa Boteach, vice president of income security and child care at the National Women’s Law Center, said. “Then you have kids, you’re in the most stressful and resource-strapped part of your life: You’re operating on three hours of sleep a night, you’re financially squeezed, because at the very time you’re taking off of work, you have diapers and wipes and formula and whatever else. You’re in this total daze of early motherhood. That’s probably not the time when you say, ‘You know what, I’m going to call my member of Congress.’ You’re feeling it like a personal issue.”

Child care isn’t necessarily seen as a macroeconomic issue or a driver of labor force participation or GDP, Shabo said. And because of that, she said, it often takes a backseat to economic issues like wages when lobbying efforts happen. This is not to say that child care issues don’t get attention — in the 2020 Democratic presidential primaries, which featured several female candidates, child care plans took a more front and center role in the campaign than they had in the past. One leading candidate, Sen. Elizabeth Warren, co-authored a 2004 book, “The Two-Income Trap,” which was about the ways the rising incomes of households with two full-time employed adults belied the heavy costs of essentials like child care. Warren thought child care costs were among the reasons the American middle class was in an economic crisis.

“Our workplaces were built for white men,” said Danielle Atkinson, the founder and director of Mothering Justice, a Detroit-area advocacy group for working families. The fact that parents are left to fend for themselves from birth to kindergarten and then during the after-school, pre-dinner hours, is an American tradition that seems to assume a readily available, at-home caregiver. (Atkinson pointed out the inextricable role black women have played in American child care; enslaved women often took care of white children.) The nuclear family with a stay-at-home parent (usually a mother) is an ideal that persists, or at the very least lingers in American life: only 18 percent of Americans in a 2018 Pew Research Survey thought it was ideal for both parents to work full time.

“This conversation about school is really a conversation about work,” Atkinson said. “The conversation about returning to school is not based on health. It’s about returning those workers to working and not looking after their children, so those children have to be somewhere.” Essential workers in particular are being forced to make difficult choices about their children’s care — many essential-worker jobs are lower wage — and many child care providers are in strapped situations. The work of child care providers, Atkinson said, is often undervalued — their median annual wage in 2017 was a little more than $22,000 annually, which is just above the federal government’s poverty line for a family of three — and as Boteach pointed out, those workers could continue to risk greater infection rates as schools and work open back up. She highlighted the plan put forth by Senate Democrats, the Child Care Is Essential Act — which would provide a bailout to the suffering industry and additional money for those providers to buy personal protective equipment — and cited an estimate that the U.S. child care industry would need a $9.6 billion injection monthly to survive the pandemic.

It’s more likely the next governmental nod to parents and their school-age children will come in the next iteration of the omnibus coronavirus relief package. Congressional Democrats have proposed $350 billion in funds for schools and universities to purchase PPE and clean their facilities. Republicans agree about more funds, though it’s not clear what their proposed number is — some have argued that since many schools will be operating on a partly virtual basis, less federal funding is needed.

The moral tussling that many parents have been doing — go back to work and risk potential COVID-19 infection at day care or school — will likely continue to be subjected to partisan politics. Trump and his Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos have been the loudest voices in recent days about sending children back to school at all costs, much to the chagrin of teachers, many of whom feel ill-prepared for the safety precautions necessary for in-person pandemic teaching. Ultimately, though, it is parents who are forced to make a choice. Atkinson, a mother of six, told me she would be keeping her children home in the fall.

For those who focus on child care, the pandemic has perversely presented an opportunity to advance the cause of greater access to guaranteed services. “This pandemic has created greater alignment of experience, potentially, between white middle class folks who saw this as an individual issue that they were struggling with and outraged by but hadn’t really taken action on and the longtime, long-standing lived experience of lower wage folks and people of color who have struggled for decades with the unaffordability of child care and the lack of care options to meet their work schedules,” Shabo said.

Atkinson said she also hoped the individualism narrative would be shattered by the current crisis. “We want to lift the veil away and help women, especially white women, know that you’ve been lied to. You were sold a bunch of lies: ‘if you just work harder, if you just slay sexism, you’ll be OK.’ But really, it’s a tool to divide,” she said.

The pandemic has shattered norms and paradigms ever since it arrived in the U.S. — our expectations of child care is no exception. What some politicians and activists had long sought to do to no avail — place working parents and their child care crisis on the center stage of American politics — the virus has done in a matter of months.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Clare Malone

4 notes · View notes

derbysilkmill · 4 years

Text

The Interlace Project - What is it and meet the volunteers

On the 15th of February this year I sat in on a workshop held at the Museum and Art Gallery as part of the Interlace Project. With the buzz of Pangolin Day happening in the World Collections gallery, I got to see a small group of museum volunteers getting to grips with the weaving work they were undertaking as part of the project, which will eventually form an art installation to go into the new Museum of Making. This was being led by artist Toni Buckby and museum volunteer Ruth Winterbottom. Scroll further down to find out more about the wonderful volunteers involved.

More recently I had the pleasure of talking again with Toni, and asked her some more in-depth questions about Interlace.

Please introduce yourself.

“My name is Toni Buckby and I'm an artist and PhD researcher based in Sheffield. My work spans the seemingly diverse but oddly related fields of textiles, electronics and computer art. I specialise in hand embroidery, with a particular focus on the 16th Century technique of blackwork, and the creation of experimental interactive electronics. I also spin, weave, draw, code, laser cut, 3D print... I spend most of my time attempting to get impractical ideas to function! I love to collaborate, so I often work with other artists on projects, as well as running public workshops and making a lot of my work available online for others to use. I see a parallel between the making of textiles and the making of digital work – both are logical processes of building complex structures through simple components. There is certainly a conceptual similarity, but I also create hybrid works, like embedding electronics into fabric or creating computer simulations based on textile techniques. I’m quite playful in my approach to my work – I take great delight in mashing (often disparate) materials and ideas together to see what happens - it’s why I like to collaborate so much. There's joy in the attempt to get something working (or not!).”

Image: Toni introducing museum volunteers to the bare cocoon bodies they will be weaving onto

Image: The wooden structures are modelled on silk moth cocoons, these being intrinsic to the silk weaving that took place at the Museum of Making site during the 18th Century. ©Toni Buckby

What is the Interlace Project?

“The Interlace Project began in 2017, when I was invited by Derby Museums to design and produce simple weaving looms that could be manufactured in the maker space at The Silk Mill. All the loom designs and instructions for how to use them were made available for free online (click here), and I've also run many public workshops in the basics of weaving using the looms. Inspired by the building's history as a silk spinning mill, I have now designed a large interactive textile sculpture, which is being made in collaboration with museum volunteers. The sculpture consists of nine woven silk moth cocoon shapes that have fibre optic light strands running through them; all being made by museum volunteer Ruth Winterbottom and her team of amazingly skilled volunteer weavers. The pattern of the lights will be programmed by visitors using punch cards (similar to the ones that were used to create weaving patterns on Jacquard looms in the 19th Century), and the colours will be controlled by touching small woven panels, a mixture of different fibres plus rows of conductive metal thread, that have been made by over 100 volunteers during several group workshops.”

Image: An example of the fabric and metal touch panels that will form the interactive controls for the installation. ©Toni Buckby

What drew you towards wanting to work with Derby Museums and the Museum of Making?

“Two of my key interests as an artist are showing and sharing the processes of making. I love the fact that Derby’s Museum of Making will celebrate manufacturing processes as well as getting people involved through its events, workshops, volunteer programme and maker space. I've met so many brilliant, enthusiastic people over the course of developing The Interlace Project and it's been a real pleasure working with an organisation that has such similar interests.”

Are there any thoughts or feelings you would like Interlace to provoke?

“I think, firstly, I hope visitors to the museum will be delighted by the piece - it's very playful! Secondly, I hope that people will take the time to appreciate the effort and skill of the volunteers who have made the work. I've been genuinely blown away by the quality and creativity of all those who have contributed so far - both the experienced weavers and those who had never woven before getting involved in the project. Everyone should be immensely proud of their work!”

Image: One of the cocoons approaching completion, fibre-optic and organic threads interspersed

How will people be able to get involved with the project?

“Visitors to the museum will be able to interact with the sculptural installation by programming the light patterns and colours. Additionally, the online resources (designs and instructions) are available on the projects Instructables site, if people would like to have a go at weaving themselves. Finally, as the interactive woven panels are going to need to be replaced every few months, we are also (hopefully) going to have more workshops in future where people can have a go at weaving their own panel, which will then become (temporally) part of the installation”.

It will be very exciting to see this artwork in action when it takes its place in the Museum of Making, and to see how it will very physically link the first use of Derby’s Silk Mill as a factory with it’s new iteration as the Museum of Making, showcasing our regions industrial heritage and innovative future.

Check back for more posts from Oliver!

Interlace Volunteer Responses

We asked some of our wonderful volunteers about their experience on the Interlace project and here’s what they had to say.

Ruth

We asked Ruth why she decided to start volunteering with Derby Museums:

‘I enjoy art, heritage and involvement with people and always relished my visits to the Museum. When we moved into an apartment next to the Silk Mill, it was a no-brainer!’

What about Ruth’s involvement on the Interlace project?:

‘I’ve been working with Toni Buckby to help realise, with a team of local skilled craftspeople, her vision for a textile installation in the new Museum of Making. Toni references the silk cocoon and weaving in her computer-controlled light display.’

Ruth shared what she has got from being involved in the Interlace project:

‘It has been a pleasure and rare privilege to be part of such a professional textile project! I’ve revisited old skills, learned new ones and interacted with lovely people, not least Toni herself. She is a wonderful artist and generous person. It’s humbling to be part of the start of a new Museum’s journey.’

Barbara

Barbara responded to a Derby Museums call out asking for volunteers for a weaving project; she said:

‘Weaving sounded right up my street! I love designing and making things particularly with textiles of all types.’

Just before the lockdown Barbara was able to take home a piece of the project to work on:

‘It took many hours of peaceful meditative activity which was marvellous occupation in the circumstances that was very good for me; also providing a topic of conversation with friends and family that was positive and different from the constant Covid coverage and shared anxious feelings of being separated from much loved and familiar people and activities’.

Hazel

Hazel met volunteer project coordinator Ruth at a Derbyshire Guild of Weavers, Spinners & Dyers meeting where Ruth presented Toni Buckby’s concept:

‘I jumped at the chance [to be involved] - what a great idea and to be part of the museum redevelopment.’

Hazel has been weaving one of the cocoons:

‘This was something new for me and a bit of a challenge, but after over 60 hours of weaving I’m really pleased with the results [and have got] a huge sense of satisfaction from the weaving process and immense pride in what I’ve achieved. I can’t wait to see it installed.’

Sandra

Sandra joined as a volunteer through the Derbyshire Guild of Weavers, Spinners and Dyers and has woven one of the cocoons:

‘As the silk mill was an important, past Derby industry I felt it was relevant, as a member of The Derbyshire Guild, to represent the group by using my weaving skills on a piece of the installation. It has been a great opportunity to work on a creative form using materials, especially the lighting, which I wouldn’t normally have used.’

Bibi

Bibi explains why she got involved with the project:

‘The idea of weaving a cocoon was irresistible to me. I am also excited about the development of the Museum of Making and what it is going to offer to the community.’

However it wasn’t without its challenges:

‘This cocoon was a challenge. The design is so good and the whole exercise was very rewarding in its outcome. I am delighted to be part of the project as a group effort. I am looking forward to seeing them all illuminated.’

Joan

Joan, as a weaver, was interested in helping with this project:

‘[I have] never undertaken a project of this sort before. I certainly found this an interesting challenge with the optical fibre being a difficult addition and always at the back of my mind the fact that my work was going to be on public display.’

Thank you to all of our volunteers who are helping to make the Museum of Making, we really wouldn’t be able to do it without you!

#Oliver Taylor #making #Museumofmaking #makingthemuseumofmaking #derbysilkmill

2 notes · View notes

yasbxxgie · 5 years

Video

youtube

Traveling While Black: behind the eye-opening VR documentary on racism in America In the Emmy-nominated virtual reality project, viewers are given an immersive historical experience on the depressingly topical dangers of being black in America

The theatre has luxurious red velvet upholstered seats, grand ceilings and gilded trimmings. The rows of chairs stretch back into the ostensible blackness, with light beaming from the projector room. Ahead, archival footage of stylish black travelers pack the screen as an unseen narrator discusses the hardships of mid-20th-century black travel. Enabled by modern technology but trapped by racist social convention, their trips were eventually greatly eased by the publication of the Green Book, which listed safe spaces for black people to sleep, eat and replenish.

A car gradually appears next to the stage in black and white and a Green Book institution, Washington DC’s Ben’s Chili Bowl, comes into view. The seats have dissipated into a silent, empty U Street. For the next 20 minutes, the viewer will journey through the traumatic stories lent to Emmy-nominated virtual reality documentary Traveling While Black, which discusses the agony and trepidation of a people moving through a country that has not fully accepted them.

Traveling While Black is the first virtual reality project by Oscar-winning documentarian Roger Ross Williams, in collaboration with virtual reality studio Felix and Paul Studios. Glued together by the deep terror of racism, the documentary relies on a collection of interviews and poetic cinematic recreations to tell the harrowing tale of the danger that comes with having black skin.

Originally developed from a play as a multimedia project, someone suggested it might take better life as virtual reality project. Even so, its initial development was rocky. “It was tough figuring out the landscape because everything is so new,” Williams said. “At one point, this piece was going to be animated. At one point, we wrote a script and were talking to actors...”

But all parties agree that the story works best told through documentary film-making. “Documentaries are a lot more immediately mature as a medium of virtual reality, as a genre, as a format than fiction. We saw that this was too sensitive of a shoot to be experimenting with,” said Paul Raphael of Felix and Paul Studios. “We really wanted to do the material justice. It’s not the kind of subject you want to approach and not be respectful of.”

In the documentary, the aforementioned Ben’s Chili Bowl acts as a heartbeat of black DC, presenting itself as a central location for black travelers and locals alike. The virtual experience elucidates the concept and reality of an enduring safe space, too often stripped from black citizens.

Virginia Ali, the owner of Ben’s Chili Bowl, relays the history of the building as a black space, an old copy of the printed Green Book resting on the table of the booth before her. Ben’s Chili Bowl is the third iteration of the space, she says, originating as a silent movie theatre, then a pool hall, and finally, into the restaurant and institution where Barack Obama once visited for their famous half-smoke.

“From the very day that we opened, until the current time, it’s still a safe haven for people,” she asserts gently. To Williams, Ben’s was a natural choice to set a documentary. Ben’s encapsulates the combination of black ease and discomfort alike. “We wanted to basically take people back to the time when they needed the Green Book and they needed spaces like that. We wanted to connect that to the present because we still need spaces like that to show how much hasn’t changed.”

In the documentary, like in the lives of black Americans, there is nowhere to turn away from the horrors of racism. It besieges the viewer in its inescapable cage.

“If you’re not African American, you get to go into a space and be part of a conversation that you probably normally would not be privy to. If you are black, you get to delve deep into that inner trauma that we all carry with us in America as black people. I think that’s really powerful in the way that 2D storytelling can’t provide,” Williams said.

Raphael agreed, saying: “In virtual reality, you get to actually feel like they are there in front of you, much more strongly than by watching them on a flat two-dimensional rectangular screen. So that really changes how receptive you are to anything that is presented to you.”

But he admits its all-encompassing nature also poses a challenge. “[It] also means you have to recalibrate how you tell the story and what you present to the viewer. You could actually overwhelm a viewer very easily and have them shut down,” Raphael explains. “So it’s a very interesting and beautiful medium to work with. You need to be careful with it, but when you do it right, you can affect people in a way that I think is out of reach for cinema.”

The experience allows for the past and present to be presented in juxtaposition, merging to validate one eery conclusion: the problems of the past have not subsided. Former Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee activist Courtland Cox contends in the documentary: “The assumption is that, at some time, it stopped. And that’s not the case. It never stopped.”

The creator of the Green Book, Victor Green, once said that if the guide went out of print, black people would have reached the proverbial mountaintop of equal opportunity. Traveling While Black directly challenges that. “It’s different, but we are still in danger as black people when we step outside of our doors,” Williams said. “I could be walking down the street in my own neighborhood and be killed.”

Indeed, the fears aren’t exclusively relegated to the bus or the train or even distant travel, says Williams. The documentary highlights one such example: the tragic extrajudicial murder of 12-year-old Tamir Rice, told through his reticent mother, Samaria, who describes the day for the first time to an audience inside the restaurant.

She was at home, when, only a short distance from his Cleveland home, the officers shot her child within seconds of their arrival on scene. He was unarmed. The video of the entire police encounter only takes a few seconds, wherein the viewer is whisked back to the movie theatre, ushering a sense of disbelief and removal from the horror on screen. When the viewer returns to the booth where Samaria is still seated, several of the patrons and servers are in tears.

“I will never get that vision out of my head,” she laments, telling the somber yet captive audience how she was restrained from being with her child during his final moments by the same force that took his life. Fiddling with her napkin nervously, she continues: “I wasn’t finished raising him. I wasn’t finished nourishing him and America robbed me.” When asked what the American dream is to her, she replies: “A nightmare. Especially if you black.”

“I wonder, when does it end?” Sandra Butler-Truesdale, a fifth-generation DC resident, ponders aloud in the experience.

It’s the kind of question Williams wants the viewers to ask after the experience. He understands the material will not carry the same weight to different groups but does believe in its power to start an honest conversation.

“I think that if you are not a person of color and you watch this film, you walk away transformed. You walk away [and] you feel the sort of empathy and the pain really that black people carry with them in a country that hasn’t confronted the reality of racism, in fact, in a country where racism is on the rise … As a black person, I want you to walk away and want you to have open and honest conversations with people in your community about that trauma. It’s like therapy. We need to talk about it.”

[youtu.be]

Photographs:

Traveling While Black, a virtual reality documentary, discusses the agony and trepidation of a people moving through a country that has not fully accepted them

Ben’s Chili Bowl in Washington DC acts as a safe space for black travelers and locals alike

#traveling while black #roger ross williams #the green book #green book #virtual reality #racism #white supremacy #amerikkka #video #youtube #washington dc #ben’s chili bowl #felix and paul studios #the guardian #documentary #documentaries #victor green

4 notes · View notes

thisisthinprivilege · 6 years

Text

About that Netflix trainwreck “Insatiable”

You may have seen the post about Netflix’s upcoming show “Insatiable,” where a fatsuited actress playing an unmakeupped, normal looking fat girl gets abused, then behind-the-curtain loses weight and (apparently) hires a professional hair and makeup artist to meet up with her at 5am before school every morning.

Disclaimer: I’ve only seen the previews, of course, so all judgment is based on that. But what I have to say goes deeper than the previews for this particular iteration of the how-to-lose-a-fatsuit-and-gain-the-respect-of-your-shallow-peers-in-90-days narrative.

I want to address our power, or rather the perceived source of our power.

As fat people, we are told again and again that our power lies in conformity. In change. In transformation. In submitting our will to the will of others. To the desires of others. To their commands, hung as yokes around our necks. If we don’t submit, we shall be judged, abused, and shunned. We aren’t allowed to stand up to this abuse, judgment, prejudice. If we are unwilling to shoulder the burden of other people’s fat discrimination and hatred, society drags us out into the field like willful animals, where we are then, unceremoniously, shot.

Conformity, for fat people, is often achieved by simply losing some arbitrarily defined “extra” weight, but it may also mean conforming to traditional beauty standards. Only when fat people sufficiently conform are they granted agency, allowed to be something more than sad sacks, cautionary tales, punching bags, pity fucks. Only when they conform are they allowed to go after their abusers, the judgmental hens and cocks of the Animal Farm that is public school, the budding concern-trolls, the milquetoast cowardly adult authority figures who’d rather win their own popularity contests with young teens than do their jobs to protect vulnerable people under their care.

This is thin privilege. This is what we mean by it. This is the power that fat people unlock, to stand up for themselves (but only their newly thin selves), to earn the chance to be loved (but only as newly thin), to be heard and respected (since they are, now, thin), to have lives untethered from a couch and snack-bucket (included in the welcome package granted to the newly-thin). Let’s not forget the agency-draining adjective that is the title itself. “Insatiable,” as noted by others, is a term emergent from rape culture used to describe the sexual inclinations of fat women.

“Insatiable,” a series by an obviously stretched-thin writing and production department at @Netflix, pounds this narrative home like the final nail into the coffin of any freedom fat people are expected to obtain sans thin transformation. “Insatiable” is all about thin privilege, from its dehumanizing use of fatsuits (which give thin people all the same strange, stiff-double-chinned-and-lined alien look, as they are truly someone else in a suit of flesh) to its reiteration of the narrative that a fat person’s power is her thinness, unlocked when she sufficiently transforms, as if her very fat body is a chrysalis to be discarded after enough character development.

Imagine this: What if, instead of losing weight, the character comes back to school in the fall with a new style and new sense of agency? Perhaps she’d gone to camp in the summer and met some wonderful people who didn’t judge her, a mentor who encouraged her, starting finally writing that novel and unlocking her social and creative powers.

All the scenes which follow are her exercising her new power, while fat. She faces up to fat discrimination, either personally, or by demanding authority figures pay the fuck attention. She goes after her abusers. She has a few little romantic moments. And even though she will still be discriminated against and hated by her thin peers, because fat discrimination and hatred are real and not just illusions fat people create for themselves to avoid living, she will have begun to access her true sources of power, those which will only grow more vibrant as she gets older; she will begin to construct tools which will help her combat the vileness of others.

Instead of robbing fat people of their agency as fat people by putting the locus of their power in thin privilege, as in “Insatiable,” a show that actively hates fat people and especially fat teenage girls, a truly ground-breaking show could place the locus of a fat person’s power in herself, at the same time acknowledging the powerful, often-deadly reality that is fat discrimination and hatred.

One would have hoped in 2018, after “Pitch Perfect” and “Huge” and “My Mad Fat Diary,” that @Netflix could have pushed the envelope further in the direction of humanizing fat people. Instead, it produces the utterest bottom-feeding trash from a script that watches like it was written in the “Clueless” era, though...much more clueless.

In fact, “Insatiable” is arguably dangerous. This mod expects an uptick in violence against fat teens in the wake of this show, as well as an uptick in eating disordered behavior. Of any group they could have gone after, Netflix picked the most fragile, the most prone to see conformity as their only source of power, the least empowered by their peers and the adults in their lives. For shame, @Netflix. For shame.

#thin privilege #insatiable #netflix #fat discrimination #fatphobia #fat hatred #fatsuits #fat suits #bigotry

840 notes · View notes

ladydragonhawke · 5 years

Text

The Lesser of Two Evils

Season 15 fanfic starting exactly at the ending of Season 14.

For anyone who would like to have an easier reading experience here’s the link to the story

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20647562/chapters/49157945

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 14

CHAPTER 3/? WIP

Summary: Cas has an itch that needs scratching, but to do so requires the help of someone he would rather not involve.

Chapter 3: Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door

In the war room alarms were sounding loudly again as the lights on the walls and table blinked frantically.

“Um, what does that mean?” Claire asked gesturing to the light show that was happening.

Sam was already on top of the computer and the readouts it was giving, while Dean searched for the off switch. Two headaches in two days is just too much at this point. After finding the correct group of switches Dean flicked them on and off, thereby shutting off the alarms. Alex ran past him to what he assumed was to check on the patient. Dean sauntered to the side of Sam as he tried to make out just what the computer was freaking out about.

“According to this, there was a massive celestial event that just happened. Let me compare it to the readouts from earlier.” Sam grabbed the pile of printouts that were near him on the desk, good thing he didn’t throw them away yet. Dean started up the stairs leading out of the front door.

“Hey! Be careful! I can’t make out what happened yet!” called Sam as he was torn between going with his brother or trying to make sense of all the numbers and degrees printed on either paper. Without even a moment passing by Dean came running back into the main room like a kid at Christmas.

“THE SUN IS BACK!” Dean shouted at the top of his lungs. Sam dropped the papers and ran up the stairs behind Castiel and Jack who were already halfway up themselves. Everyone filed out of the door in front of the Bunker to look up at the sun. Castiel glanced at his watch then back up as if tracking its accuracy. The rotation of the Earth was back to normal as well.

“Why would he do that?” pondered Dean, “Why would he bring it back?”

“So soon too?” Sam added.

“I have no idea. Let’s just be glad it is back, for now.” Castiel grumbled as he turned to return into the Bunker. One by one everyone filed back into the Bunker leaving only the older gentleman, the young clerk from the gas station, Sam, and Dean.

“Do you think it’s safe to go back?” asked the older man.

“Not sure, but you’re welcome to stay if you like. You and?” Sam gestured toward the young lady to reveal her name.

“Sarah. Sorry, it has been kinda hectic, what with God and all.” She stared at the ground realizing the ridiculousness of what she’s saying, and how it sounds.

“I have a grandchild I need to check on. Can’t leave him to this mess. He has his father, but he ain’t worth more than two pennies to rub together.” The old man grumbled.

“I need to get back too, I’m worried about my brother Ben. Our dad was in the Marines and I’m sure the ‘fort’ held but…” she trailed off in thought as she looked out toward the main road.

“Well, we’ll give you some supplies and a car you guys can have to get back to town. If you run into any trouble with those zombies, run. Don’t fight them.” Sam made it a point to look directly into each of their eyes to further drive the point home.

“Trust me, after what happened earlier, we won’t. Fight I mean.” Sarah corrected. She was justifiably nervous, but Sam was hoping with a bit of light instruction and some quick pointers she should be ok. He hoped. He guided them back inside leaving Dean outside thinking to himself just what in the hell happened. He couldn’t quite get over how in one minute the sun was completely gone, and within a few hours it was back again as if nothing had happened. “What is Chuck planning?” After about ten minutes or so to think to himself, he decided to worry about it later, right now he wanted to pop in on the invalid and see where she was at for recovery. She seemed like the fighting type; Dean liked those with a bit of backbone.

As Dean shut the door behind him, he could hear a crackling noise coming from the war room and as he looked out over the bannister Rowena popped into view holding onto quite a few of her precious tomes. It seemed she had escaped quite a kerfuffle wherever she blew in from.

“Rowena, how’s tricks?” Dean asked with a slight smile. He liked ruffling her feathers when he could. She turned to give him a sneer but thought it best to fake a smile as she set down her tomes onto the center table.

“I was…” she gasped as she laid down her largest tomes with a thud, “Bombarded at my flat!” She exhaled forcefully as another wrapped stack thudded onto the table, leaving a small bundle under her arm as what was left. “Did anybody bother to warn me the dead were rising from their grave?” She set the smaller bundle on top of the larger set as she flopped into the nearest chair, looking exhausted. “Not to mention the sun disappearing, and then reappearing before our very eyes?” She raised her hand to shake a boney finger at Dean, “Please don’t tell me you boys are the cause of all this?” Just then Sam walked into the room seeing Rowena pointing a long finger at Dean.

“Hey Rowena, didn’t hear you come in.” Sam stuttered.

“Aye Sam, nice to see you too. Now will someone please tell me what is bloody going on?” She looked back and forth between Sam and Dean. Dean coughed and tapped Sam on the shoulder. “I’ll leave her to you, I’mma go check on our wounded.”

“Right.” Sam scoffed.

Dean escaped from the room as quickly as he could, he did NOT want to receive the foul words she was bound to spew when she heard it pretty much was all them. Kinda, sorta, not really, honestly if Chuck planned on it going this way was it really their decision? He shook his head to rid himself of going down that rabbit hole. That was one hole he didn’t like exploring. He entered the infirmary to find Alex using a stethoscope to try to find a heartbeat.

“Whoa, whoa. Did she die?” Dean stopped halfway between her and the door waiting for an answer.

“No, her heartbeat is just so…. faint.” She removed the pieces from her ears and returned the stethoscope to dangle around her neck. “Frankly there’s not much else I can do for her. She’s got another blood bag and a few more saline and the wound should be better soon. But it’s like…” she paused not quite sure if she wants to say it out loud.

“Like what?” Dean inquired giving the stranger a look over. She was pale and seemed at ease in her sleep.

“Like… she’s in a coma.” Alex whispered.

“How long do you think?” Dean asked taking a seat on the bed next to the patient.

“Not up to me. I don’t think it would hurt to have Cas or maybe Jack…” she stopped at the sight of Dean giving her a hard look of no, “or not Jack.”

“Rowena is here, maybe we could have her give her a once over.” Dean proposed.

“Sounds good to me. Well, I’m going to have a long shower, care to watch her for a bit? If she wakes up just come get me, ok? Not that I think she’s going to wake up right now but…” She sighed, “you never know.”

“Roger that. Enjoy your shower.” Dean took out his phone to find one of the many games he had installed on it, the internet and phone services may be down but that wasn’t going to stop him from distracting himself from his thoughts. He pulled up one of the many iterations of Candy Crush and began his latest level. He didn’t get too far till he heard light heels tapping on the floor toward him. He turned to find Rowena walking slowly toward him, eyeing both him and the unconscious lady in the bed in front of him.

“So, this is her. The odd woman.” Rowena straightened as the reached the foot of the bed of the woman in question.

“Yep.” Affirmed Dean as he tucked his phone back into his back pocket. He’ll finish that level later.

“Sam mentioned what might’ov happened to her. I suppose you boys think I should give it a go?” she looked at Dean for confirmation.

“Alex did mention, before she took off to take a shower, that it seems like she may be in a coma.” Dean recited, albeit a bit haphazardly.

“I’ll start with scrying then. Get the general idea of what’s going on.” Rowena rubbed her hands together as if to warm them up, then when she felt she had sufficiently raised her awareness she floated her hands above the strangers’ body starting at the feet. Dean had watched her preform this action a few times with Jack in place of the invalid. Dean didn’t want to think about that, so he focused on the slight humming sounds and slight twinges of movement from Rowena. Her humming started out calm and collected then as she neared the head, she sounded a bit frazzled and the notes sounded off-key.

“What’s up?” Dean wondering just what was with the odd humming.

“Well, I’m not quite…” she slowly breathed out as she searched a bit deeper “sure dear. Usually I can find a persons’ soul or being rather quickly, but…” she moved her hands to hover over the strangers’ heart, “it’s almost like I’m at the door knocking to be let in but, no one is answering.”

“So, she has no soul?” Dean questioned, confused with her analogy.

“Oh, she has one dear it’s there, but it’s just completely blocked off for some reason.” She moved her hands back down to her feet to finish the ritual. “Like she doesn’t want anyone poking their nose where she won’t want.” She held her hands in each other as she gave the girl another once over with her eyes. “The only thing I can do is give her a healing spell for the wound. I could try a waking spell, but I fear the after-effects may upset her more.” She looked at Dean who didn’t seem too pleased at the sound of that and he sighed as he rose to his feet.

“Well do what you can. Make sure if she wakes up to let Alex know. I’ll go tell her you’re on top of it. See if she needs a nap or somethin’.” Dean patted Rowenas’ shoulder lightly and walked out of the infirmary through the other door.

Rowena sighed as she looked at the strangers’ face that was starting to show some color. “Now it’s just us girls.” She sat on the bed next to the stranger as she prepared herself to preform a healing spell that rose in intensity as long as the caster was willing to pour as much energy as they wanted. She breathed deeply for a few minutes to quell any insecurities she may be harboring. The issue that this woman was able to completely block her from even getting a general feel of who this person is, was more than aggravating to say the least. This just made her more interesting to Rowena, like a rubix cube that looked nearly complete but with only one square out of place. The solution would be roughly simple, but it would take some time. Rowena extended her hands outward from her body hovering just a few inches above the area where the wound was. She could see it in her minds eye, the rough stitch work that was holding quite a few flaps of skin onto each other. The small holes that couldn’t quite be stitched due to the lack of skin in those particular areas. She probed a little deeper, the muscles in her entire lower side were a complete mess, a large chunk was missing entirely and some of the sinew was connected to nothing. She pushed deeper, but for some reason she couldn’t, as if the body was rejecting her, forcing her to return to the muscles. She took a deep breath and delved against the force of whatever was barring her. Without too much pressure she was finally able to see some of the damaged organs; a kidney was nearly on its last legs, a badly bruised hip bone, and large chunk of her colon was missing, but other than that she couldn’t see too much else.

“There, was that so hard?” She sighed content with herself and her abilities. She still couldn’t figure out how or why this persons’ being was fighting against her so much. She added that to the list of questions she intended to ask her when she awoke. Starting from the kidney she began the healing process; it didn’t take too long to get it into acceptable standards. When she returned to the muscles to try to mend them back to their original places, she could feel a slight pull on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to find a young black-haired woman standing next to her.

“Alex, I presume?” Asked Rowena, never fully dropping her healing spell. The distraction could hinder it, but she was more than capable.

“Guilty as charged. How’s she doing?” Alex asked while pulling up a chair to the end of the bed.

“She’s… interesting.” Rowena teased.

“I’ll say. Any other person with wounds like this would’ve died from the blood loss alone.”

“It’s odd…” Rowena started, pausing as she mended the majority of muscles leaving some of the other ones to heal by themselves. “I’ve never had to fight this hard to heal a person.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” She slowly tapered off the healing aura thinking this was enough for the moment. “when I try to do anything, I get forced back. Under normal circumstances this is an entirely somewhat easy process.”

“But she’s not normal.” Alex gave her a knowing look, as if someone finally realized something she’s known for a while now.

“Quite.”

Rowena looked at the strange woman in wonder, she’ll have so many questions for her. As night fell everyone was exhausted from what a nightmare of a day they all equally shared. Alex resigned to let Rowena babysit the comatose stranger while she went and got some shuteye. Claire, Donna, and Jody all went into their respective rooms and crashed. Dean and Sam were left alone with Castiel and Jack in the main room continuously trying to get any news from the outside. Castiel was trying in vain to reach anyone in heaven, but it was as if no one was left to answer him. He was beginning to feel extremely uneasy; he knew if there were no angels left to keep heaven functional, the souls would be lost. He looked at Sam and Dean as they were trying to get the router working for the fifth time to see if they could get any internet. He needed to check on things, but he didn’t want to leave Sam, Dean, and Jack. He took a deep breath as he steeled himself for the inevitable pushback he was going to have.

“Guys, I need to go to heaven.”

Dean dropped what he was doing and spun around to face Cas with a mixed look of confusion and annoyance. “Um, what?”

“Look, I still can’t get anything from anyone up there, if there aren’t any angels in heaven, we won’t have just the souls that broke out of hell to deal with.” Castiel sped through every word knowing if he didn’t get it out it would never get a chance to again.

“Right, did you forget about the massive hoards of undead that are out there?! Not to mention the demons from Hell that are loose all over the frickin’ world! You’ll get torn to shreds!” Dean half-shouted, having to stop himself realizing people are trying to sleep.

“I realize that, but this is something I can’t just leave alone. Not when…” He paused looking to Sam for some kind of backup. “not when I can do something about it.”

“I’ll go with you.” Jack interjected, jumping out of the chair he was lounging in.

“No. Out of the question.” Castiel stopped him with an outstretched arm.

“I can help! I know where the door is.” Jack was beginning to get justifiably frustrated. He couldn’t stand being treated like a child. “I can fly us there and back.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” Pipped up Sam. Dean did a double-take and gave him a look of shock then disgust.

“We still don’t know if he’s even capable of doing all that. He was dead today, not like that stops us much anyway, but still. I say no, it’s too soon.” Dean folded his arms onto his chest. “We’ll come up with something else.” Sam knew this was his usual signal that he wouldn’t budge, but Sam knew if anyone could change Deans’ mind it was him.

“Dean, he’s already shown that he can use his powers without injuring himself. He healed me and blasted all those walkers when we picked up the girls.” Sam knew the implications of what could happen if they left the bunker, but he had faith in Jack and Cas. He knew if things went south in any way, they would fight like mad to get out and back to them. “They could just fly to the door and if things look sour, they’ll just fly back.” He looked Castiel in the eyes as if saying this to him as an order, of which Castiel and Jack both acknowledged.

Dean keeping is arms crossed and his head held high was trying not to show outwardly that he was actually considering this half-baked plan. But they’ve done more with less. And as much as he hated the idea of Castiel and Jack leaving his side so soon he was very concerned about the souls in heaven, including Mary and John. He mulled it around in his head and gave a look to Sam that meant, I’m weighing my options here.

“Fine, but if things look bad. At all. You come right back. Got it?” Dean pointed a finger at Jack that was between anger and love. He wouldn’t dare admit the ladder at the moment.

“Yes sir.” Jack replied, trying to hide a smile at finally being allowed to do something. He and Castiel stepped back from the center table and gave Sam and Dean one last look before disappearing.

“If he so much as gets a papercut I’m…” Dean started but didn’t dare finish, the thought of him being hurt at all was a thought he’d rather not address.

“I know, me too. Let’s get some rest huh?” Sam gave Dean a comforting pat on his shoulder to break him away from his thoughts.

“Sounds good.” Dean grunted as they both made their way to their respective rooms. Leaving the main room silent besides the few blips and beeps from the computers still running and collecting data.

Castiel and Jack jerked into reality in front of the sandbox that masqueraded as the door to heaven. The evening sky was dark, nearly devoid of stars either due to the light pollution, or the fact it was The End. Castiel did a quick sweep of any and all possible life forms in the area that could interfere with entering into Heaven. It seemed odd, there weren’t any undead or demons that he could sense. “Are they being deterred by the door of Heaven?” Thought Castiel as he stepped toward the sandbox. The hidden runes in the sand lit up, leaking an inviting glow into the air around them. Jack was just as confused about the lack of evil dead in the area and decided to try his own search, which came up fruitless, yet there was this nagging feeling that something was off.

“Come on Jack, let’s make this as quick as possible.” Castiel held out his hand inviting Jack to join him in the sandbox, only they weren’t going to be building sandcastles.

Within a flash they were sent up into the winding hallways of Heaven. Immediately things seemed bleak. The lights were flickering on and off frantically leaving hardly a second of light to be shown. The hallways themselves seemed like some beast comprised of dark smoke writhed against the walls. Fearing the worst Castiel ran to the throne room, with a confused Jack in tow. Upon entering the room, he found Naomi sitting in one of the chairs next to Chucks’, her head in her hands but seemingly alright.

“Naomi, what happened here?” Castiel asked knowing his presence wasn’t exactly welcomed still within Heavens’ circle. He kept his distance to the doorway.

“It came to deliver a message.” Naomi muttered, not raising her head.

“What came?” Jack asked.

“The Shadow.” Her head slowly raised to look at Jack with a face bursting with a whirlwind of emotions. Anger, fear, hate, love, there wasn’t one you could pinpoint but it pained Castiel to see her in this way.

“It wanted me to deliver a message to you two.” She rasped holding everything within her to not lash out at the two of them.

“What was the message?” Jack asked. Castiel already feared he knew the answer but there was something else driving this emotion she was carrying, and he was afraid to dig any deeper.

“This. Changes. Nothing. Not even THE END.”

The room fell eerily silent, Castiel swallowed the lump in his throat. He already figured that, but what drove The Shadow to deem ravaging Heaven as a necessity? Was it because it is The End?

“Where is everyone?” Castiel finally broke the static that was starting to grate on his ears.

“Dead.”

“How?!” His hands balled into fists… All my fault.

“Did you not see the hallways? How do you think?!” She choked back a sob.

I let this happen, how could I let this happen?

“It’s over.” She returned her face into the palms of her hands. “Heaven is done.”

“I could make…” Jack was interrupted with a terse glance from Naomi.

“It wouldn’t be enough.” She hissed.

Mustering up all the courage he could Castiel took a step and knelt in front of Naomi, and softly placed a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t flinch or shy away, what would be the point?

“In the few years that I’ve been able to spend living with the humans, and the family I gained from joining them. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in existence. You are family to me as well, always have been and always will be. And with my family on earth there’s something one of them said when things were at their bleakest, when the sky was raining down and we felt all hope was lost.” Naomi raised her head to look into Castiels’ caring eyes, she was so tired and should hate him with every fiber of her being. He was the one who left. Yet in this moment she didn’t feel hate, or fear, or loss. She felt broken and numb as if everything inside her wanted to give up and let the pieces of her scatter into nothing.

There’s a tradition with Japanese pottery that has been handed down for generations. When a teapot or cup is broken, rather than throwing it away and purchasing or making a new one, they affix it back together. They use a method called Kintsugi otherwise called “golden joinery.” This technique employs a special tree sap lacquer dusted with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. Once completed, beautiful seams of gold glint in the exposed cracks of ceramic, giving a one-of-a-kind appearance to each “repaired” piece. This unique method celebrates each artifact’s unique history by emphasizing its fractures and breaks instead of hiding or disguising them. In fact, Kintsugi often makes the repaired piece even more beautiful than the original, revitalizing it with a new look and giving it a second life.

“Keep grinding. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you gotta keep grinding. And that’s how we’re gonna win.” Castiel took her hand in his and helped raise her to her feet. “We keep fighting, together.” They weren’t quite the perfect words he was aiming for, but a dear friend… no, a family member had said it, it quelled his dark thoughts in his time of need. He hoped it had done the same for Naomi.

As Naomi stood slowly taking in the words Castiel said while gripping his hand tight, a little piece of her that she thought she had lost in the chaos seemed to reappear. A sense of duty, no… it was rather a sense of longing, for what she wasn’t sure. To make things right again? To get the angels back somehow? To get Heaven in working order again?

“What do I do?” She asked still unsure if she was even allowed to ask such a question.

“What’s the first thing that needs to be done here in order to keep the souls of Heaven from falling back to Earth?” Castiel inquired.

She looked at him in confusion, he knew the state of it all and what was to happen next. Why bother asking a question that he already knew the answer to?

Wait!

“Come with me.” She stood up straighter. Her vessel was an utter mess, but she couldn’t bother to give it a thought now. This task was more important. Hell was already loose upon the Earth, measures needed to be taken to ensure the souls of Heaven weren’t lain waste to the beasts from below. There was only one option left and there was only one being capable but the only way to find said being was through a rather large magnifying glass, one only God or his angels could access. “It’s a long shot, but if anyone can do it, it’s these two. I’ll assist in anyway I can, even if I have to…” She led them winding down multiple endless hallways, Jack was doing everything in trying to keep up with them. Then without warning the hallway suddenly opened up into a massively expansive stark white room, it had no windows or doors, but judging by the minimal shadows that their vessels gave off one could tell the walls were not 90-degree angles. The floor slopped downward toward the center where it flattened out making it easier to stand. It was as if they were inside a dewdrop.

Naomi turned to face the two boys as they were getting their bearings.

“I haven’t seen this room since…” Castiel started, “But why are we here? This is just the Observatory. And if I recall correctly this room requires a massive amount of energy to function. The last time it was on was…”

“Just after creation. When God disappeared.” Naomi finished. “I’m well aware.” She paused knowing what needed to be done next. “Stand there Castiel, Jack I may need your assistance.”

“Wait!” Castiel raised an arm to stop Jack. “First you have to tell me why. And another thing, I will not allow him to die for this.”

“He won’t Castiel, you have my word.” She reached a hand toward Jack giving him a loving smile. “Castiel your job will be to find Amara.”

“What!?” He shouted, “How will that even be possible? We couldn’t even find Chuck with this, and you believe it will find Amara?”

“I have faith.” She smiled, still extending her arm as she patiently waited for Jack to be released from his fathers’ grip.

Slowly Castiel released his grip on Jack, but not before pulling him into a fast embrace.

“No matter what happens, do NOT use your soul. Do you understand me?” Castiel pleaded fighting the urge to pull himself and Jack and run back to the Bunker.

“I won’t. I promise.” Jack said shakily, the shock from the sudden embrace raising his apprehension as to what will happen next.

Castiel released Jack lingering one hand on his shoulder until Jack left it entirely, taking the hand of Naomi who was still smiling brightly. Together she led him toward the opposite wall and placed a hand on a hidden pad. A door-shaped portion of the wall instantly evaporated away, she led Jack into the small room with her. It was a touch cramped but it soon expanded after realizing there was more than one being inside it. With a click two white rods appeared on opposite walls that jutted out horizontally.

“What are these?” Jack looked on them with amazement, but he wasn’t sure if he should touch it.

“They’re power cores. It takes one or two beings with a rather large amount of power to call the Observatory to function.” She informed while touching hidden buttons on her side of the wall that remained unseen to Jack. “God doesn’t even need the use of this room; it was made specifically for us. But only Archangels alone, or ten angels could offer enough power to use it.” She turned to face him as she finished pushing a few buttons. He was looking at the wall that separated them and Castiel. With one button push she made the wall sheer, so they could see him, and him them.

“Are you ready Castiel?” She spoke softly, Jack was wondering if Cas could even hear...

“Yes.” He replied quickly.

“You have her in your frame of mind? Her sense of presence?” She clarified.

“Yes.” He replied flatly, looking at Jack at first with concern but broke it with the sense of duty that needed to be done.

“Then let us begin.” Naomi raised a hand above her power core, turning to look at Jack. “When I say three, we both touch the cores at the same time. This device runs on grace, spend it sparingly, don’t let it pull you in. If you are pulled in, I won’t be able to help you and you will die. Do you understand?” She gazed into his eyes looking for a sign of understanding.

“I understand. Don’t let it pull me in. But what about you?” Jacks’ face changed from readiness to concern.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t my first time.” She winked.

Jack smiled at her content with the answer.

“He’s a Nephilim so his amount of grace surpasses even Archangels, but I can’t let him use the amount they do. Even Michael was a mess after one go on this for only two minutes. I don’t know how long it will take to accurately find her…”

“One…”

“But I have faith in them.”

“Two…”

“All of them.”

“Three!”

1 note · View note