#YOU RECOGNIZE EVERY REFERENCE THE AUTHOR MADE SO FAR BUT NOT THAT ONE??? BE SERIOUS

[bidokja]

okay i know i said yeseo is dense but manages to make it endearing. but over 130 chapters in with him still being this like...not even dense really its more like he's refusing to learn or change his biased preconceptions about cedric, now im starting to wanna strangle him a bit.

[sanityshorror]

why did you leave crp? 🙁 if my OC got famous like Julius i don't think I'd ever leave. Is he still a crp? love Julius and love u sanity, take care

lmfao, unless it's slender or the rake or Russian sleep experiment or fuckin MH... There's no such thing as 'famous' creepypasta. Creepypasta isn't remotely mainstream in 2023 to begin with. So, Julius is far from famous - and honestly I'm very uncomfortable with him being referred to as such.

But. To answer your question. There's honestly many reasons, but the biggest? I have self respect and know I'm far too fuckin skilled to spend years and years festering away in creepypasta. I find it absolutely pathetic when creators are so heavily invested in creepypasta a decade after making one that got known (y'all know who you are). Plus, I never wanted to be a creepypasta creator. Julius was initially made as joke and his pasta was written tongue in cheek as a parody and satire of old pastas, hence every possible trope being crammed in it and how comedic it is. Apparently, since, by Creepypasta standards, it was written incredibly well (even though I didn't even half ass it) so a lot people took it seriously lol. I've always been an extreme horror creator and these days, I'm becoming an established splatterpunk author. I'm working on a graphic novel. I already am in the very beginning stages of working on a film. I'm a professional freelance artist. I get paid to just continue creating my content and make money off selling my creations. Why on earth would I stay in creepypasta when it was never something I wanted to be a creator in and have far bigger aspirations? Not to mention, the pure toxicity in it overall. I'm also almost 26, so I really can't relate to the majority of people in it. Still love me some /x/ though!

This genuinely isn't meant to make fun of those in creepypasta, if it makes you happy, good!/serious /gen. I'm not a judgmental person. But you asked and this is my honest answer.

I didn't remove my characters from creepypasta because I know they're beloved by many in the fandom. But I also just want people to recognize they are extreme horror characters in reality, who just started in creepypasta.

However, given my roots as an original creator are in creepypasta, I will absolutely be forever grateful and appreciative towards all the fans, support, etc. I wouldn't be where I am today without them. I still absolutely enjoy interacting (through public asks) with them and will never take them for granted. /Serious /gen

Much love to everyone who enjoys my work<3

[egcdeath]

hook, line, and sinker

summary: steve was never meant to be anything more to you than a check, a basic mission. but somewhere along the way, things had veered from that.

pairing: steve rogers x spy!reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: angst, bad decisions, betrayal, unhappy ending

author's note: it has been a minute since i've posted a fic! i hope you enjoy :)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Despite the different rooms you found yourself in, the harsh morning sun was always the first thing you saw in the morning. Its bright rays would peek through the room’s shades and land right onto your face, intruding on some of the more vulnerable moments of your life.

When you finally angled your face away from the beaming star, your tired eyes fell upon the man next to you. The man you should’ve never taken things this far with. A man on the run, who you were sent after.

You sighed softly as you became a bit more conscious, and a now slightly more awake Steve threw a large arm around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Don’t get up yet,” he mumbled softly against your ear. You nodded and relaxed further into the slightly stiff motel mattress, mentally snapshotting and framing this moment in time. Yet another to add in the five month scrapbook of your time with Steve. Time that you recognized was quickly running out.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes once more, to listen to Steve’s soft breaths as he inhaled the scent of you. It made your heart hurt knowing that within the next week you would no longer get to be in those arms. Knowing that you would have to wake up alone in a new apartment in a new country and wait for a new mission while the news on the television droned on about the nomadic Captain America being flushed out of hiding. That Steve was no more to you than a mission. That it was your fault that you had fallen so hard and so fast.

So you treasured it while you had it. Hummed contently as Steve massaged your side before peppering little kisses against your neck. Tried to absorb the stubborn tear that threatened to fall down your face at any moment.

“We have to leave today,” he whispered against your ear, sending goosebumps up your arm. “Natasha wants to meet you.”

Your eyes shot open and your brows momentarily furrowed, something you quickly attempted to play off with a wide smile. There was no way that she wouldn’t recognize who you were— despite being declared ‘dead’ years ago, you were one of the more esteemed spies in your community. What that also meant is that you had even less time with Steve than you’d expected.

“When are we leaving? Am I gonna have to get used to another time zone?”

“Probably a few. Nat’s already with Sam, but we heard there’s something weird going on in Scotland with Wanda and Vision.”

“Should I really be getting involved with this then? It sounds like some pretty intense Avenger business if the parts of the team you still communicate with are getting together. I can just stay here ‘till you guys are ready to come back.”

Steve gave you an ‘are you serious?’ look before breaking into soft laughter, “are you serious?” You nodded wordlessly in response. “Oh, you’re serious. I promise that you’ll be fine.”

“Well, things better not get weird,” you giggled right along with him, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s face so that you could look into his eyes. You took another mental picture of him. You just hoped it wouldn’t have to be the last.

——

After you prepared yourself for the long car ride ahead of you, you slipped your second burner phone out of the hidden pocket of your suitcase, you were met with several missed messages by the man who sent you on the mission in the first place.

What is the wait?

I was referred to you for a reason

Have you even found him yet?

I’m not paying for you to sit around and go to brunch all day.

Do I need to send more money for a plane ticket or something??

No, I’ve got it. He’ll be in custody by tonight.

He better be. Or else you won’t be around to see tomorrow.

You swallowed thickly. You wouldn’t be dealing with this in the first place if you weren’t so irresponsible. And if word got out that you were falling in love with your targets, your reputation would be in shambles. You should’ve known from the start that this could never end well.

Steve stepped back into the bedroom area, a goofy smile on his face at the sight of you sprawled out on your back on top of the dingy motel bed. “You ready?” he asked, sounding chipper. You assumed he was ecstatic that you were finally going to be able to meet his friends, which made your heart hurt even more.

For a moment you considered the possibility of not going through with it. Of going along with Steve, work, prestige, and that hefty bounty be damned. You would still be living life on the run, but you’d have Steve, and everyone else on his side on your side too. You’d have some semblance of a family, and maybe someday you’d have a real family and someone to grow old with.

You chastised yourself for getting soft before sitting up, “I’m ready.”

——

You weren’t ready.

You knew you had to move quickly, the sun was going down, and you’d made a promise that needed to be fulfilled, or god knew what would happen to you.

You reached for the volume dial on the radio portion of the car, and turned down the song that Steve was currently humming along to.

“We should probably get off on the next exit that has a gas station,” you prompted, “the tank’s getting pretty low.”

Steve’s eyes flicked down to the dashboard and he nodded in agreement, “you’re right. Good catch.”

Steve pulled the car off and drove you to the nearest gas station, humming pleasantly along to the music once again. Your stomach was twisting and untwisting knots with every foot you got closer to the station, knowing exactly what you would have to do once you arrived.

Somehow, this was the most nerve wracking moment of your career. Not infiltrating secret government operations, not pulling the trigger on a mark, not even seeing the message from Tony Stark asking for you to find a way to bring Steve in.

You hurried into the main building of the station, making up an excuse on the spot to go inside. You made your way into a bathroom stall, and slipped the phone you hid away earlier out of the extra pocket in your pants.

Your hands shook as you dialed the first two numbers. You took one last deep breath as your finger hovered over the final number. You had one last chance to change your mind, to go back out to the car like nothing had happened because nothing had happened. You would drive a little longer before staying in another shitty hotel, and think about how you made the right decision as you curled up next to Steve’s warm body.

But you couldn’t. You were given this mission, and you needed to complete it.

You pressed the last nine, immediately connecting with an emergency service operator. You gave them the tip that you had seen Steve Rogers pumping gas into a black Honda Civic, and provided them with your location. With every word, your voice trembled a little more. You were grateful for your proximity to a toilet, as the lump inside of your throat threatened to force the contents of your stomach up with every passing moment.

You hung up the phone and looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You could barely recognize yourself now, and you weren’t sure if that was from the flagrant betrayal of your partner, or the undermining of your own personal rules for the past five months of your life.

After reflecting on what you’d done for a few minutes, you made your way back to the car. You sat down in the passenger seat, lip trembling as you thought about Steve, and the fact that you’d laid a trap for someone you had such strong feelings for.

Steve sat down just a few minutes later, a smile on his face, and snacks from the gas station in his arms. As he passed you a water bottle, he couldn’t help but notice the tears slipping down your face.

“Hey, what‘s wrong? Are you alright?” he asked, dropping the rest of the items on his lap and leaning over the middle console to console you.

You began to full-on sob now, each tremble of your body filled with regret. “I’m sorry, Steve. I am so sorry,” you repeated.

“No, no, you’re okay. What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning as he wiped your tears away with his thumb.

“I- I had no other choice,” you wailed, “I’m sorry.”

His brows creased and he pulled away from you, betrayal evident in his features, “oh.”

You swallowed hard and shook your head.

“So this was the plan all along?” he questioned. Your lack of response seemed to answer the question for him. “Was any of this real?”

“All of it was, Steve,” you all but whimpered out.

He sighed deeply and leaned his head against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut. He seemed to be searching for the words, but couldn’t quite put together what he truly wanted to say. It was silent in the car for a moment, aside from your quiet sniffles.

“I loved you,” he finally said, hurt evident in his delivery. The admission shook you to your core. You almost couldn’t believe that the first time you were hearing it was after you had put him into such a terrible situation. After you turned in someone that you cared about for your own gain.

“I know,” you looked away from Steve in shame, the look of hurt on his face now permanently imprinted in your mind.

The sound of sirens began to fill the air. Not too long after, you noticed the unmissable blue and red of emergency vehicles approaching your own. It was time.

You unlocked your door and exited without another word. You refused to look back to the car, keeping your head down and your eyes squeezed shut, knowing that if you had to see Steve being taken away, you might never get over the permanent sick feeling you were currently in the midst of.

You walked right inside of the building, stopping in front of an aisle of chargers and finally looking back at the mess that you had made.

“What’s going on out there?” the clerk asked from behind the counter, peeking out the large glass windows.

“I don’t know,” you feigned ignorance and casually shrugged, ignoring the fact that the sight of about a dozen police and SWAT vehicles was tearing you up inside. What were they going to do to him?

You turned away from the scene once again, pretending to browse through the low quality electronics next to you. You heard some yelling, a bit of a struggle, then it was all over.

The coast was clear. Your mission was over.

You left the store without purchasing anything. You moved sluggishly as you got back inside of the now abandoned vehicle.

You started the car once again. This time without the radio playing overplayed pop songs, and without Steve happily humming along. You stared blankly ahead of you, feeling numb above anything else. Steve's words resonated in your mind, bouncing around in your head as you attempted to make sense of what you just did.

Guilt was beginning to creep up on you in a way that you’d never experienced before. You immediately felt haunted by the ghosts of your memories with Steve. Of every entry in your mental scrapbook, of the final image of the hurt on Steve’s face as he confessed his true feelings for you. Of all, you were left with one terrifying thought.

You loved him too.

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 3/?)

Continuation of the E/R Bridgerton AU that’s honestly more aptly described as a regency-ish era fake marriage fic. Because ~shenanigans~ (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3)

It appears to this Author that the most discussed couple of this season will end up not being a couple at all. And no, this refers not to Baron Pontmercy and his latest object of obsession, a handkerchief that he claims belongs to the woman he met at the Thenardier’s ball, though it is perhaps as unlikely a pairing.

The Marquess of Enjolras and Mr. Grantaire have continued spending an inordinate amount of time in each other’s company, and no one, it would seem, is as surprised as their mutual friends and acquaintances. Mr. Combeferre was overheard in discussion with the Earl of Courfeyrac on more than one occasion lamenting the unlikely union. He seems to be skeptical on the nature of this deepening friendship, a skepticism one can only assume he shares with the other important people in the marquess’s life.

Namely, his mother, who has been keeping a low profile after their shouting match was recorded in this paper. Alas, her efforts will almost certainly be in vain if her son continues cavorting with the most unlikely of allies. And it appears he shall, as he is apparently set to accompany Mr. Grantaire on a visit to his country estate this week.

One can certainly speak of the restorative benefits of country air and time spent away from the city and the season. But proceed with caution, Lord Enjolras – scandal is not confined by geography. 

Nor, for that matter, is this Author. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 2 MAY 1831

“I still cannot believe that I agreed to this,” Enjolras grumbled as he followed Grantaire into the carriage set to take them out to the country to visit Grantaire’s home.

“Honestly?” Grantaire said cheerfully, settling in the far corner of the carriage and stretching out luxuriously across the bench. “I am as well. I half-expected you not to show up this morning.”

Enjolras scowled slightly as he sat down across from him. “When I make a promise, I usually see it through,” he said stiffly.

Grantaire just laughed. “Leave it to you to take it as an impingement on your honor to suggest that you might have had misgivings about this particularly harebrained idea. And before you somehow take umbrage on my own behalf, surely if anyone is allowed to call this endeavor harebrained, it is myself.”

“Then am I allowed to take umbrage at the idea that you cannot even bring yourself to believe in your own schemes?” Enjolras snapped.

The carriage jolted suddenly as the driver spurred the horses into motion, and Enjolras pitched forward, reaching out to brace himself against the far wall of the carriage. Instead, his hands landed squarely on Grantaire’s chest. “Careful,” Grantaire said, his voice pitched low, and Enjolras flushed as he struggled to right himself.

“It seems this venture may very well be cursed,” he managed when he was finally settled back in his own seat, still flushed and avoiding Grantaire’s eyes. “Or at the very least, off to the most inauspicious start in most of human history.”

Grantaire shrugged, glancing out the window of the carriage. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “It’s not every day one finds oneself in a compromising position with a marquess, after all.” He smirked at Enjolras. “Pity one of us isn’t the proper sex, or this entire thing would be settled already.” 

“Be serious,” Enjolras snapped, but Grantaire ignored him.

“I mean, caught in a scandalous embrace with a marquess, unchaperoned in the back of a carriage…it would be the scandal of the season, if not the decade.”

Grantaire sounded strangely wistful, and Enjolras gave him a look. “Forgive me,” he said curtly, “but I have the mental capacity for only one fictional scandal at a time, and I believe what we’re planning with your deceased sister takes precedence.”

His tone brooked no argument, not that this had ever once stopped Grantaire, but for once, Grantaire let the topic drop. “Very well,” he said instead, settling back into his corner and rapping his knuckles in a staccato rhythm against the side of the carriage. “But it is a long trip, and if I don’t have fantasy to entertain myself with, you’ll need to provide a more suitable topic.”

Enjolras blinked. “I assumed you would spend the trip sketching or painting or something,” he said, a little awkwardly.

“In a moving carriage?” Grantaire asked, a little incredulous, and as if to prove his point, the carriage swayed dangerously before righting itself.

Enjolras shrugged, feeling himself blush again. “You just seem to have the ability to sketch through anything,” he muttered. “Namely my every speech.” 

Grantaire smirked. “Can you blame me?”

“For not paying attention to a word I’m saying?”

“Now, that’s not entirely fair,” Grantaire said mildly. “I almost certainly catch about every fourth or fifth word.”

“Perhaps that’s the reason you can’t find it in yourself to believe in anything,” Enjolras said sourly.

Grantaire just laughed. “Perhaps,” he agreed with a lazy smirk.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and glanced out the window, dismayed to see that they had not even left the city yet. “Fine,” he said abruptly. “Then tell me about your sister.”

To his surprise, Grantaire’s smile disappeared and his shook his head. “No,” he said. “While I certainly cannot blame you for curiosity about your bride to be, now is not the time to speak of her.”

Enjolras looked closely at him. “You must have loved her very much,” he said quietly.

Grantaire shrugged again, looking uncomfortable. “She was my best – and for longer than I care to think about my only – friend. And that is all that I will say on the topic.”

He said it quite firmly and Enjolras inclined his head. “Very well,” he said. “Your father, then – if Lady Whistledown is to be believed, he is out of the country, correct?”

Grantaire had made a face as soon as Enjolras mentioned his father, and he shook his head. “Must we ruin this sojourn with talk of my father?” he asked plaintively. “Certainly you would not wish to speak of your mother, would you?”

Enjolras scowled. “Indeed I would not,” he said. “But need I remind you before you bring my mother into this, it was you who demanded conversation, so forgive me for trying to start one.”

Grantaire sighed, and to Enjolras’s continued surprise, actually managed an expression that at least resembled genuine contrition. “No, it is I who must ask your forgiveness,” he said. “I am not used to speaking of my family.” He managed a wan smile. “One of the benefits of not being noble – no one much cares to whom I am related.”

“They’ll certainly care a bit more after this,” Enjolras murmured.

“Well, you’re probably not wrong there,” Grantaire said with a snort. “But that is a problem for the future, so do not think you will somehow use my hesitation to get out of this arrangement.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good,” Grantaire said, hesitating before adding, “But I apologize for stymying your attempts at conversation, so to make up for it, a promise: ask me any question, and I swear I will answer it.”

“Anything?”

“On my honor,” Grantaire said solemnly with a nod.

Enjolras considered it for a moment. “Fine,” he said. “Then answer this: why are you doing this?”

“Anything but that.”

Enjolras frowned. “Grantaire—”

“Anything but that,” Grantaire repeated, his expression and tone both as serious as Enjolras had ever witnessed. He paused and seemed to force his expression into something more approximating his normal jovial appearance. “Come now, you out of everyone should know that my honor is worth very little.”

“To you, perhaps,” Enjolras muttered. “Very well, then…” He trailed off, casting around for a somewhat neutral topic. “Tell me about your home, I suppose. After all, I should know something about where we are traveling, and besides, it’s not every day that I get to visit a new money estate.”

He said the last words teasingly, and it had his desired effect: Grantaire half-smiled and shook his head. “I always knew you were a secret snob, looking down your nose on the landed gentry,” he said, equally teasing, and Enjolras relaxed, glad for reasons he could not quite articulate that they were back on their usual footing. “But there’s not much to tell. It’s a nice enough manor, just outside a small village. My sister and I were discouraged from going to the village much as children, so I doubt any there would even remember us, which works to our advantage, of course. But there was a wood on the other side of the house, and that’s where she and I spent most of our time…”

His words washed over Enjolras like a warm blanket. Despite usually being the one giving long speeches, Enjolras was quite surprised to find that for once, he was content just to sit back and listen as the carriage ride continued, bearing them both towards the house that Grantaire was describing with considerable enthusiasm.

So vividly did he describe it that Enjolras knew without Grantaire saying anything when they approached, the winding stone drive just as he had described it. But Grantaire had perhaps undersold the manor itself, which was massive, towering over them as they disembarked from the carriage. 

“Impressed?” Grantaire asked, with a sort of put-upon boredom, shooing the driver away and offering Enjolras his hand instead to help him down.

Enjolras just made a small, neutral noise. “As my mother would say, you have done well for yourself.”

Grantaire barked a laugh. “High words, coming from her,” he said with a grin. “Though don’t think that I’m so new of money that I didn’t recognize the veiled insult in there.”

Enjolras laughed lightly. “Like I said, it’s what my mother would say,” he reminded him. “As for myself, it looks as noble a house as most I have seen in my life.”

“A mighty compliment,” Grantaire said, making a mocking leg. “Now please, my lord, let me offer the finest hospitality in at least the surrounding several acres.”

Together, they crossed to the door, where a man and a woman waited for them. Grantaire greeted both as if they were family, kissing the woman on the cheek and shaking the man’s hand. “My lord, if I may present my butler, Le Cabuc, and my housekeeper, Madame Hucheloup.”

Madame Hucheloup bobbed an awkward curtsy, her eyes wide. “Lord Marquess,” she said, and Enjolras couldn’t find it in himself to correct her on the title.

Le Cabuc gave him a stiff nod, clearly not as impressed as the housekeeper. “My lord,” he said. “You must forgive us, we are not used to entertaining gentlemen of your standing.”

“I am certain whatever arrangements you have made will more than suffice,” Enjolras assured him with a tight smile.

“In more ways that one,” Grantaire murmured in an undertone. “I have already filled Le Cabuc in on our plan, and intend on letting Madame Hucheloup know this evening.” He nudged Enjolras in the ribs, smirking again. “She shall likely stand in for my sister during the fake wedding.”

Enjolras frowned. “I didn’t realize there was going to be an actual wedding,” he hissed, following Grantaire inside. “Surely the town vicar will realize that Madame Hucheloup is not your sister!”

“The town vicar drinks more wine and whiskey than I do,” Grantaire informed him. “He will not recognize anyone, I promise you that. And we need this to look real, do we not?”

“I suppose,” Enjolras said reluctantly.

Grantaire clapped him on the shoulder in what he clearly thought was a bracing kind of way. “Chin up,” he said. “It will all be over soon enough. In the meantime, I am certain that Madame Hucheloup will have laid enough food to feed a small army. Do you wish to change before dinner?”

Enjolras looked down at his clothes, which were rumpled and dusty from the trip. “I won’t if you won’t,” he said, and Grantaire grinned.

“Deal.”

----------

After dinner, Grantaire showed Enjolras to his room, a large, airy chamber that was adjacent to Grantaire’s, and Enjolras went to bed early, determined to get a good night’s rest.

Instead, he woke early the next morning, a force of habit that was not helped by tossing and turning for most of the night at the thought of what they were about to do. He and Grantaire had not yet discussed exactly how the scandal was to unfold, but he imagined that they would figure that out sometime that day.

He woke so early that most of the staff was not up yet, and rather than inconvenience anyone by ringing them ahead of their usual wake up time, he instead slipped out the front door, taking the well-worn path down to the nearby village. It was a beautiful spring day, and despite himself, he found himself enjoying the walk.

Even though he tried to spend at least a little time in the villages that part of his family’s lands each time he visited, he could not imagine any time that he spent there would ever be like this, slipping down the winding streets as an anonymous stranger, watching the comings and goings of the townfolk.

He had just purchased a delicious-looking handheld pie from the baker when he felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately tensed. He turned, relaxing when he saw it was Grantaire. “Oh,” he said, relieved. “I thought—”

Out of nowhere, Grantaire’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him reeling backwards, his pie splattering to the ground. “What in the bleeding—”

“I do not know who you think you are,” Grantaire shouted, “but if you think that you can take advantage of my sister, sir, you have another think coming.”

Enjolras rubbed his jaw, blinking up at him as he tried to piece together what the hell was happening. “I don’t know—”  he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“You know perfectly well,” he growled. “Meeting with her in the middle of the night with no chaperone? Impugning her honor, with nary a marriage proposal in sight? I will not stand for it, my lord – on that, you have my word.”

The passersby had all stopped to stare, some openly gaping, others whispering to each other as they watched. “Your sister’s honor remains intact,” Enjolras said, slowly catching on to where this was going, but wondering why Grantaire was doing this here and now. “I give you my word—”

“Your word means nothing to me,” Grantaire said coldly, his expression flinty, and for the first time, Enjolras realized what it must be like for any who had crossed Grantaire. It was a formidable sight, and one he hoped not to be on the wrong side of for real anytime soon. “You will marry my sister, and before the week’s end.”

“And if I refuse?” Enjolras asked.

Someone in the crowd gasped, but it was the only sound anyone made as they stared between the two men. For a moment, it almost looked like Grantaire was smiling, just slightly, but it disappeared so quickly that Enjolras could not be certain that he did not imagine it. “Then it shall be a duel. First light on the morrow – guns or swords, your pick.”

This had absolutely not been a part of their plan, and Enjolras gaped at him. But before he could stop himself, before he could end this ruse with a few simple words, his idiotic pride got the best of him in the worst way possible at the worst time possible. “Guns,” he heard himself say. “First light on the morrow, and we shall see whose honor is left standing.”

Now Grantaire did smile, an almost feral grin. “I look forward to it, my lord,” he said, his voice low, and he turned and swept away without uttering another word.

Enjolras stood still for one long minute before realizing that every eye was still on him, and the whispers were starting to grow in volume. He flushed beet red and quickly hurried away, heading back toward the manor, his head reeling at what had just happened. 

About halfway back to Grantaire’s house, the man in question fell in next to him, his cold expression replaced by a genuine grin. “Well, that went well,” he said cheerfully, and Enjolras gave him a withering look.

“Did it?” he asked sourly, wincing at the pain still radiating from his jaw. “Because I was just about to ask you what in the bloody hell you were thinking.”

Grantaire clucked his tongue. “There is no need for that kind of language,” he scolded, still abominably cheerful.”

“Says the man who just publicly challenged me to a duel!”

Grantaire stopped so suddenly that Enjolras ran straight into him. “Yes, you idiot,” he said, but despite his words, his tone was soft, patient even. “I just very publicly challenged you to a duel. If you think that the townspeople won’t be telling everyone they know about that—”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “And what if I had just agreed to marry your sister?”

“Honestly, I was mostly expecting you to,” Grantaire said with a shrug. “After all, it’s not necessary for the ruse that we actually have a duel, just that the challenge and scandal is made known.” Enjolras flushed and opened his mouth to apologize and explain, but Grantaire didn’t let him, continuing thoughtfully, “But in honesty, this lends a certain...verisimilitude to the whole affair. After all, no one would believe that you would so quickly agree to a marriage.”

“I suppose not,” Enjolras reluctantly agreed, before adding, a little sullenly, “Though speaking of verisimilitude, I don’t think you needed to punch me quite so hard.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Oh, do not be such a baby,” he scoffed. “I pulled my punch.”

“You could have fooled me.”

Enjolras knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he didn’t much care. Grantaire rolled his eyes again. “Believe me, had I punched you with my full strength, you would have a broken jaw.” Enjolras was tempted to tell him that he wasn’t entirely sure his jaw wasn’t broken, but Grantaire glanced at the look on his face and sighed. “Oh, come here.”

He reached out and Enjolras automatically flinched. “What are you—” he started, breaking off when Grantaire cradled his jaw gently between both his hands, prodding gently with his fingertips, his touch almost feather-light.

Enjolras knew he was blushing, but if Grantaire noticed, he didn’t say anything. “See?” he said instead, his voice quiet. “Nothing broken. I doubt you’ll even have much of a bruise.”

His fingers skimmed lightly over his skin as he traced his jaw, and Enjolras swallowed, hard, realizing for the first time just how close they were standing. If anyone happened upon them, standing like this, the scandal in question would not be in relation to Grantaire’s sister. He cleared his throat. “You can let go of me now.”

Grantaire’s hands fell to his sides, and Enjolras wished he didn’t immediately miss the warmth. He shoved his hands into his pockets and they both started walking back toward the house. After a long silence, Enjolras cleared his throat again. “So what now?”

“Now, we make sure that one of the townsfolk’s accounts of what happened gets into the right hands so that it gets to Lady Whistledown,” Grantaire said.

“And after that?”

Grantaire smirked at him. “After that, we have a duel to plan.”

[ducavalentinos]

How would you rate Sabatini's biography on Cesare? I love it, but I wondered if you had any other (English) recommendations? Also take a shot everyone Sabatini interrupts his narrative to talk about how hot Cesare was sfhttjjggj

I think as far as Cesare bios goes, I’d rate his biography 7/10. I have conflicted feelings with Sabatini’s work, because I love his writing style, his sense of humour is great, it matched mine right away, and he has such a genius way of pointing out the hypocrisy and double standards applied to the Borgia family. He cleverly shows how much of the Borgia myths and general accusations thrown their way are connected to politics (shocker!) and to their Spaniard, and less nobly origins. Not to mention how he exposes the historical bias against Cesare, and general dishonesty with him, from primary sources to modern historians such as Gregorovius, that paragraph Sabatini wrote about him was truly a moment in the Borgia historical literature for me, I'm glad he said it. I just wish he hadn't fallen so hard for the Machiavellian Prince archetype about Cesare. The more I re-read his work, the more it becomes clear to me he took Machiavelli’s writings about Cesare at face value, fell in love with the image presented by him, and then proceeded (whether consciously or unconsciously) to apply this interpretation, one that has its limitations and flaws on their own, to all the facets of Cesare’s character, and all the other aspects of his life lol, which resulted in this too strict, robot-like persona. There is no nuance, no deepth to Cesare’s Sabatini, he exists only as the stoic, unscrupulous, unfeeling Machiavellian Prince. It’s a mistake I see being made time and again by most of Cesare’s biographers, many who follow Sabatini too blindly, or just Borgia biographers in general tbh, but Sabatini’s bio acutely illustrates this particular issue better than the other bios I’ve read I think, (with the exception perhaps of Beuf’s “work”, who somehow managed to outdone Sabatini in this Machiavellian presentation of Cesare, taking it to new extremes with super dramatic and misleading writing, for the most part). And you know, I always get the impression Sabatini had his own conflicted feelings in regards to The Prince, and its clear-headed, pragmatic politics. He seemed to admired it and feel repulsed by it at the time. And those mixed feelings sometimes ended up leaking into his view and writing about Cesare and some historical events, and what he believed had happened (e.g., the take of Urbino), and I find that very interesting. In any case, the point is: Sabatini’s Cesare is unrealistic, and it constantly enters into conflict with what Sabatini also presents as evidence for his history. I mean, he insists throughout the book in reaffirming Cesare was a utter egoist, cold man. Only moved by his ambition and thirst for power. He was incapable of kindness, or of being considerate with others, of feeling compassion, without ulterior motives involved. All of his actions were always calculated to only serve his own interests. Everyone around him were pawns to be used and discarded when they were no longer of any use to him. We are to believe he was a cynic, a block of ice, essentially. We are also to believe he never had genuine emotional bonds with anyone, much less with women. Women were interchangeble to him. Sabatini was convinced he was a man incapable of having a sentimental side, of loving or of having any connection with them beyond the physical aspect. But then, in between chapters, sometimes pages, he also tell us how Cesare seems to have deeply grieved the death of his cousin, Giovanni Borgia, whom he refers as Mio Fatre in his letters. He gives an honest, if quick, account about the marriage and relationship between Cesare and Charlotte d’Albret, in which Cesare’s obvious feelings for her can be seen, as well as his kindness and respect towards her. Sabatini admits the evidence shows they may well have loved each other, and that when leaving Charlotte in charge of all his affairs in France, as the governor and administrator of his lands and lorships there, as well as his heiress in case of his death, Cesare shows “his esteem of her and the confidence he reposed in her mental qualities.” And of Cesare’s policies and behavior as its ruler in the Romagna, it reaches a point where his mere self-interest doesn’t quite alone explain his relationship with this romagnese subjects and many of his decisions. It undermines Sabatini’s claim that it was for show and for his political gain. Last but not least, what is one supposed to make of the hypothesis he posits to the what I like to call, the Dorotea affair? This event is the peak of his contradiction and his mental gymnastics, because to be sure, his hypothesis is not far-fetched. I will concede I thought it was the first I read his bio. But over the years, between carefully separating fiction from history and reading other sources, then going back to his bio, I recognized his hypothesis is one of the plausible ones, certainly more plausible than the official sensationalistic narrative of Cesare simply abducting the innocent maiden Dorotea out on a whim, to satisfy his lust, (the fact Borgia scholars  are still repeating this narrative with a straight face is beyond my comprehension), I can see Cesare doing what he proposes, it def. aligns better with my understanding of him, and all the historical material I’ve read about him and his times, however, this hypothesis is completely irreconcilable with Sabatini’s Cesare. So, he says one thing, then he says another that’s incompatible with the first thing he said, and then proceeds to show evidence that either puts into doubt or confirms the opposite of his characterization of Cesare. And that’s only considering the historical info he dedided to include in his bio. If he had included some of the info Alvisi presents in his Duca di Romagna, a work he must have checked out, if not read it all, given one of the languages he spoke was Italian, and Alvisi’s bio is the best and most authoritative historical work made to date about Cesare and his life, I believe he would have struggled a lot more than he did. It just seems like he enters into a trap of his own making. Turning an already difficult task more difficult than it needs to be, honestly. Ironically, his stance is as messy and contradictory as the aforementioned Gregorovius in his Lucrezia Borgia, where you also have two Cesare(s): the one he sees and wants to present versus the one that emerges from the his own writing at times and historical material he himself exposes it. Overall, his work frustrates on some fronts, and I think it could have been better. It has its faults, some the typical faults/vices fond in Borgia biographies, others very much his own, but nevertheless I have a fondness for his bio which I do not share with others bios on Cesare, or the Borgia family. It is the only bio in the English language I find myself reading again and again, and the one I would put it first as better, or more decent, in this language about Cesare. I admire his honesty, and his bravery in challenging a little bit of Cesare’s dark legend, and the baseless accusations attached to his name. I appreciate what he tried to do, the very least of what I expect from a serious historian when dealing with figures as infamous in popular imagination as Cesare and Rodrigo Borgia. There is no denying his work was one of the main works which advanced Cesare’s historical literature, and the approach to his figure. Moving slightly from the literary, colorful, villain-like character of the Italian Renaissance, towards starting to be more seriously studied as a historical figure properly. And oh my god, yes, interrupting the narrative to talk about how hot Cesare was. It’s funny you mentioned that, because I don’t remember him doing that so much (time for a re-read!), but that's one of the characteristics of the Borgian/Cesarean historical literature heh. I’m yet to read a bio where authors do not feel the need to take a moment to talk about how hot he was, some even a poetic way lol, it’s so amusing, and always the one thing I know I will agree with them, if nothing else. Also, I think Borgia bios have huge potential for drinking games! Like: take a shot of tequila every time Cesare gets badmouthed for no reason, or baselessly asserted guilty of questionable murders, fratricide, rape, and abduction. Or when Juan and Cesare envied and hated each other narrative is repeated. Or when Guicciardini, Sanuto, Cappello and Giustinian are uncritically used as credible sources for Rodrigo and Cesare. Every time Lucrezia gets painted as the Good Borgia, the pretty, passive doll who was the helpless victim of the terrible Borgia men. Or when authors get uncomfortably shippy with the Cesare/Lucrezia relationship resulting in exaggerated claims such as: Lucrezia was Cesare’s only exception, or they were unusually close as siblings, etc. And of course, whenever Cesare’s hotness and allure has to be talked about dsjdsjsj, the list is long, and I think it will get you drunk very quickly. I know I couldn’t keep up back when I was reading Sacerdote’s bio, and I was drinking wine so. As for recs in the English language, I would say Woodward’s bio has its value in terms of sources and historical documents. I also think his analysis about politics, about Cesare’s goverment in the Romagna, and also concerning the conclave of 1503 are generally good. His last five, four chapters are the best ones imo, so if you are interested in these points I mentioned, it might be worth checking out. I would just open a caveat saying that as far as a biography about the person of Cesare Borgia is concerned, it is weak and to be read with a grain of salt. I was mostly unimpressive by his work on that front, and I thought about quitting time and again. He likes presenting himself as the impartial historian, (a big red flag that only makes me twice as cautious when reading any historical work) writing in a mostly sober tone, but of course like all scholars, all people, he has his bias, and they do come to surface from time to time. He displays an peculiar antipathy and ill will towards Cesare at times, which leads to harsh, confusing, unsubstantiated claims about his character and some of the events about his life. In contrast, you can see he is more benevolent and fair towards Rodrigo Borgia, and a constant thought I had while reading his bio was that he obviously chose the wrong Borgia to write a bio on. Had he chose Rodrigo as his Borgia subject, I believe we would have had a pretty good bio about him and his papacy.

[lastxviolet]

In Neglected Fields, the Fern Grows - CH. 1

Fred Weasley x OC

3,495 k

Ch. 1 / 10

Warnings: None for this chapter. Eventual smut 

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13829826/1/In-Neglected-Fields-the-Fern-Grows

_______________________________

How someone in the wizarding world hadn't come up with a spell to mimic the brief high of a cigarette puff, Fern Longbottom had no clue. Being a witch would finally feel worth it if she could blast herself at least once every ten minutes to feel momentary relief instead of having to climb the god-awful moving staircase to smoke one cigarette in the Astronomy tower before she was missed by the other Prefect on rounds.

Not that they even needed her. Prefect duties had become much easier ever since Umbridge had taken over as the unofficial authority at Hogwarts. These days, nary a soul, besides the dead ones wandered the halls after hours, for fear of peeving off the menace in pink. She didn't much mind the strict witch's presence, but then again, she wasn't exactly in the line of fire, nor was anyone else in Ravenclaw. The only thing that did make her roll her eyes was that almost all of her duties and responsibilities had been bequeathed to undeserving Slytherins on the Inquisitional Squad. They were a pack of eager dogs, desperate to bring their master the best corpse. At least when she gave someone detention, it was rather painless and they actually deserved it.

Thankfully, she hadn't run into anyone who deserved it tonight. Not that she'd mind the company. Every hall she had passed on the way up the dizzying stairs, was empty. That was one thing she did miss from the time before Umbridge. Usually, there would be absolute chaos in every corner of the dark seventh-floor hallway but tonight, it was silent.

She skirted through the hall, ignoring the hairs on the back of her neck, reminding her of how dark and empty the hallway was. Without light pollution from civilizations nearby, nighttime at Hogwarts was deep and unrelenting until morning. Even in the castle, candles and fireplaces couldn't illuminate the stone rooms enough to fully ward off the hours of shadow. To make matters worse, she'd noticed in her tenure as Prefect that in the evenings, without company or companion, the cobble architecture swallowed sound. Footsteps, words, laughter, and voices dissipated upon utterance without a crowd to overpower the course sandstone abyss. She didn't normally like the quiet, in any capacity, but especially in the castle that could easily swallow her whole with various secret halls, doors, and chambers.

Even at home, quiet was no good. If Neville wasn't rambling on about Herbology or Gran wasn't lecturing her brother about speaking too fast or walking too slow, the air felt thick. It clung to her limbs, and filled her lungs, and brought her thoughts to a standstill. The emptiness that followed, before sound rushed back in, froze her. She'd read a quote once, walking out of St. Mungo's after a particularly somber visit to her parents that said, 'for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.' Whatever abyss Nietzsche was referring to, she doubted that he knew what real emptiness felt like.

You didn't look at it, and it didn't look at you. It was an extension of consciousness; unrelenting and irremovable. Emptiness was a hospital room with people who couldn't recognize you. Emptiness was seeing the same careless bravery that had gotten them there in her brother who seemed too eager for war. Emptiness was being powerless to change any of it. After a while, she'd didn't feel so empty anymore, realizing that she'd simply become the abyss.

Now, it took up a corner of her mind, whispering evil things and infuriating questions with no answer. Every action had an equal reaction, and she was powerless to control every single one, not for lack of trying, as it liked to remind her. Every glance in the mirror, conversation in her head, and silent moment was tainted by this ache with no relief, other than the few times a week she got to smoke a cigarette.

She briefly closed her eyes as she walked, quelling the downward mental spiral by focusing on the crisp scent of fall turning into winter as it drifted in from the tower at the end of the hall. She imagined herself amongst the trees somewhere warm and beautiful, like Italy. The heat from the lone fireplace to her right acted as the artificial seaside sun. The crackling log was a babbling brook and she couldn't hear her own footsteps because she was barefoot in the grass. Her lips pulled into a soft smile. She was content until she heard footsteps.

She jumped and opened her eyes frantically as a very familiar figure appeared ten feet in front of her.

"Nev?" She half shouted.

"Oh hi," he squeaked out, looking behind his right shoulder, around a corner she couldn't see.

She cocked an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain why he was out of his dorm so late but he just stood, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Hi… uh what are you doing up here?"

She watched as he jumped a little at her question, clearly uncomfortable with her suspicious tone. In recent years, her younger brother had become more akin to rule-breaking but sneaking around after dark wasn't usually his style.

He glanced over his shoulder again and took a few frantic footsteps towards her as if he was trying to herd her back down the hall.

"Erm…nothing," he worried. "I was in the uh tower."

His words slurred with the speed and she took sweeping steps to meet him before he got too far away from whatever it was that he seemed to be hiding.

"Nev," she said slowly. "In the tower…doing what?"

He didn't seem to register her question so she snapped her fingers in front of his face, bringing his consciousness back down to earth.

"What's wrong with you? Why do you keep looking around like that?"

"Um…I'm just uh waiting —"

"For…?"

As if on cue, more voices appeared, loud and bouncing, out of thin air.

"Who is that?"

He looked down at his shoes, content to have her discover his counterparts on her own. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to actually hand out a detention, she breezed past him and towards the sound.

She made it three steps before Fred and George Weasley stepped around the corner and looked down at her, in shock, as if she was the one who had appeared out of nowhere. The evening was already a headache, but it was well on its way to turning into a migraine.

Before they could speak, she pounced.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was cruel and seeping with blame, directed at two of her least favorite people.

From as far back as she could remember, nearly seven years now, the three of them hadn't gotten along. The twins were intolerable, annoying, and self-centered. There was no joke, prank, or quip that could ever really be enough to fuel their egos so they always went too far, too fast, making the entirety of the study body accomplices and victims to their antics. Although, it hadn't been until her brother's unfortunate friendship with the twins that she'd started to harbor a real hatred for them.

"Hey," Fred called down the hall behind her towards Neville, pointing wildly, avoiding her accusatory stare. "Look Longbottom, it's Longbottom!"

"A family reunion," George added, clapping his hands together. "How touching."

Fred's eyes twinkled at her sour look. "Out for an evening stroll?"

She rolled her eyes. "I asked you a question."

"Oh c'mon Longbottom, no need to be so hostile, I'm only making small talk," Fred cooed. "Y'know like, how's your evening? How was your day? Are you —"

"Enough, you fucking half-whit. Why are you up here?"

George smiled big at her instantaneous anger but it was Fred who stepped closer and spoke again with a more threatening tone.

"Not quite, but you've almost got the hang of it. You're supposed to answer someone's question before you ask one of your own, it's polite."

"So answer it," she retorted, closing the last few inches between them.

"You first," he said with a scowl, relishing in her contempt. "How is your evening?"

"Abysmal, thanks to you."

"It always seems to be that way when we're together, Longbottom. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you're the problem?"

"Funny," she hissed. "I would beg to differ"

"You? Beg? Now that would make for a lovely evening. Go on then," Fred taunted, looming over her with his usual pretentious sneer.

She glared at him, fuming, and ignored Neville's plea behind her to just leave it alone.

"Alright, we should really be off now," George yawned, stretching his arms over his head for dramatic effect. "Longbottom family, it's been lovely."

Fred bared his teeth as if to gloat and brushed her shoulder with force as he followed his brother towards the stairs. She glanced at Neville for backup but he gave her a miserable shrug. Discontent with the outcome, she spun around and grabbed Fred by the arm.

"For fucks sake, just tell me what you're doing up here or I'll give you a detention!"

He whipped around with a fire in his eyes and clamped a hand down on her wrist.

"Ask. Your. Brother," he hissed through clenched teeth, blazingly serious as he yanked her arm up close to her face.

Neville let out a little gasp at the outburst but she just hardened her glare.

She yanked her hand from his. "Charming."

Fred didn't let her finish the word before he stalked away in a huff, tapping Neville on the shoulder as if to say good luck. The less volatile twin shot her an apologetic look before disappearing down the stairs after his brother.

Despite having gotten used to Fred Weasley's short fuse and erratic temper, her heart nearly beat out of her chest. She'd been the reason for many an outburst, from detention slips to thwarted pranks over the years, none having been quite this tame. If they'd been alone, she liked to think that she might have accosted him back. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

Neville came up behind her, radiating with nerves.

"Really, Fern," he stuttered. "It's fine…I just had astronomy homework."

"Don't lie to me, Nev," she accused, probably louder than she needed to.

"Honest, we were just studying!"

"Oh give it a rest, those two have never studied a day in their lives! They're nothing but trouble. What are you thinking, letting them drag you into something sure to get you on Umbridge's bad side?"

"I'm already on her bad side," he mumbled. "So it doesn't really matter if —"

"Well then you can't really afford to make it any worse, can you? I mean hanging out with the Weasley twins after hours is one of the stupidest things I can think of. You're smarter than this!"

"They're my friends, it's nothing —"

"Some friends they are, Neville. Honestly, what could you possibly expect from hanging out with them, besides trouble? You're lucky that it was me that you ran into tonight, and not another Prefect, or worse. How could you be so —"

"You aren't my mum, Fern… I can look out for myself," he squeaked in a small, but stern voice.

She stopped talking immediately, struck by his sudden gumption. The twins had definitely gotten to him. Normally, he would've at least given her the benefit of the doubt and listened to her advice. She furrowed her brow when he glanced up, still looking nervously at the hallway behind her.

"You should get back to your common room," she sighed finally, unwilling to fight and elongate the portion of the evening without any nicotine in her system. "It's late."

"Alright," he said, nodding a little more energetically now that she'd stalled her lecture. "See you later?"

"Yeah….see you later."

He sped off down the hall, probably keen to catch up with his so-called friends. She cursed Fred to high heaven as she scaled the astronomy tower stairs, stopping briefly to retrieve a cigarette from the school stash, underneath a floorboard below the telescope. She tucked it between her teeth, used a non-verbal fire spell, and stepped over to the balcony.

The grounds were fuzzy and dark green beneath the muted moonlight. She stared confused for a moment at the darker than usual, blurred Hogwarts lawn, and then tipped her head upwards. A deep fog blurred the view, making the constellations completely invisible. The moon tried to blaze through the haze but it barely reached the earth's surface.

There was no way they got any astrology homework done, she thought, glancing around the room for clues.

Other than a few cigarette butts, there was nothing.

She took a drag and watched the smoke commingle with the haze. Nicotine rushed through her head providing momentary dizzying peace and oblivion. This buzz, although brief, was preferable to anything else. Drugs were unobtainable and inconsistent, alcohol lasted too long to be truly relaxing and she could never get the various potion options right. Tobacco gave her the two things that she craved, a tiny ounce of rebellion, and an unoccupied mind.

She flicked her finished cigarette onto the floor, one final testament to her moment of disobedience for the night, and flitted back down the stairs, eager to be finished with her rounds.

The hallway was still and dark again as she flew through it. The incident with her brother and his fellow Gryffindors had nearly been forgotten when other voices drifted from the hallway behind her.

Stunned by their apparition, she turned slowly, trying not to look terrified.

"Hey Fern," Padma Patil and Mandy Brocklehurst said in unison, arm in arm, coming around the corner where she'd been a few footsteps ago.

"Hey…guys," she responded, looking for an explanation.

"Prefect rounds?" Padma said, nodding to her house robes after hours.

"Yeah," she stammered.

"That sucks. Almost done though?"

She nodded and watched the girls try and contain their giggles about something she couldn't see. She glanced down the hall and found it devoid of doors or entrances despite the astronomy tower, where they most certainly were not.

"Astronomy homework?" She asked them, surrendering to her urges of suspicion. Where had they come from?

"Yep," Padma replied energetically.

"Lovely evening to see the stars," she goaded.

"They were brill," Mandy chimed in, turning to get her friend to nod in agreement. "Oh, by the way, I think a few people are going to be hanging out in the boy's dorm later tonight if you wanna come."

"Wicked," she responded, faking interest. "Corner and Boot's room?"

"Yep!"

"Ok, I'll try and swing by," she assured them. "You guys better get back though, I don't know who else has rounds tonight but if it's Abbott, you're screwed."

"Shit," Mandy said. "Is the Inquisitional Squad out tonight too?"

"Haven't seen them yet but I think they come round at 9."

"Thanks, Fern, you're a lifesaver!" Padma whispered, turning to run with her friend, hand in hand. "See you later!"

She watched them run back down towards the moving staircase and then turned to inspect the hall in a daze. She squeezed her eyes tight, imagining a door at the end of the hall but when she opened them, the stone wall remained the same; tall, grey, and empty.

There was no door anywhere.

Where were all these kids coming from?

The Weasley's having some secret entrance into the hallway made sense but her housemates and brother didn't. The mystery motivated her enough to make quick work of the walk back to her common room where she ignored a wave of 'hello's from her peers and rushed to her dorm room.

"Daisy!"

Her roommate jumped two inches off the bed and nearly toppled onto the floor as she rushed in and slammed the door. The tall strawberry blonde stared at her with wide, absent eyes for a moment before relaxing back onto the bed and setting her book on the nightstand.

"You might be content dying from a stress-induced heart attack at a young age, my love," she cooed, returning to her easy-going state. "But I, am not. Please exclude me from any further loud and anxious announcements in the —"

"Daisy," she repeated, ignoring her best friend's usual long-winded, abstract ramblings. "I think I may have stumbled upon a mystery."

Daisy gasped and threw a hand over her mouth, smiling wickedly as for one moment Fern thought that she was equally intrigued.

"I'm serious," Fern said flatly.

"I can't say I'm surprised," she said wistfully. "There is no way that we could know all the goings-on in a castle this old or this large. The mysteries it holds….the mysteries it has been witness to…well that must span centuries. Fern, what do you think was happening in this very room, a century ago?"

"Daisy, this room is not the one that I am concerned about. Will you please listen to me?"

"Yes, yes, yes," her roommate rambled, staring at the door as if she could actually see the ghosts of Ravenclaws past.

"On my Prefect rounds, I went up the astronomy tower—"

"So that you could look up at the night sky and not smoke a cigarette because you promised me that it was simply a fleeting phase of insubordination and not a serious habit?"

She squinted at the suddenly alert girl. "Yes."

"Lovely, please continue."

"Well on my way to the tower, Neville appeared out of nowhere with Fred and George Weasley in tow."

She paused for dramatic effect but continued quickly as Daisy didn't seem intrigued in the slightest.

"When I asked what they were doing, the twins wouldn't say, and Nev gave me some excuse about astronomy homework but when I went up to the tower, the fog made seeing the stars impossible!"

Daisy gave her an exasperated look. "So they were in the tower smoking pot?"

"Ah very clever, my love, but no. See, I would have smelled it either on them or in the tower if that had been the case but there was nothing."

"Okay…so what were they doing up there?"

"Now that is the mystery. I don't think they were up there at all."

Daisy stared at her silently, raising her brow in a combination of confusion and doubt.

"And here's why…when I came back down, Padma and Mandy appeared in the hall behind me, looking like they were leaving something, just like Nev and the twins had but they weren't up in the tower with me."

"Okay…"

"Daisy, are you hearing me? They said they were doing Astronomy homework, just like Nev. On a cloudy night! Don't you think that's a little suspicious that five people appeared out of thin air in a seventh-floor hallway this evening?"

"Well it's definitely odd but I don't know if I'd call it suspicious…actually maybe it's a little abnormal….no….bizarre perhaps?"

"Yes, yes, yes, all of the above," she said quickly. "What I'm trying to say is that I think they're up to something."

"Your brother, the twins, and two Ravenclaws?"

"Yes."

"Orgy?"

"Oh Daisy, for fucks sake, don't put that image in my head."

"Well, it's the obvious choice of usage for a secret room in a distant hallway with people who might otherwise consider each other acquaintances."

"They didn't look nearly flustered enough for that to be the case and besides, Padma and Mandy couldn't ever like any of them."

Daisy nodded like she was pondering.

"And you're sure they couldn't just be a study group?"

"Well I mean sure, they could be but what room were they using?"

"Fern, what time is it?"

"What?"

"The time," Daisy repeated.

"8:45, why?"

"So it's nighttime?"

"Yes…"

"Meaning that it was dark…up there."

"There are lanterns and fireplaces and moonlight, Daisy, I know what I saw. Dim light cannot hide an entire door. Or room!"

"No need to shout, I'm only trying to guide you to an air-tight hypothesis. Are you sure your mystery isn't just because of a lack of light or perhaps a result of your lack of sleep?"

She thought back to the hall and all the times she'd been there. It wasn't often, but it was enough to know what was there.

Nothing.

"No, I'm sure there is something else going on."

"Alright…I'll entertain it," Daisy said, propping her head upon her hand. "Do you think it's something sinister?"

"No," she mused, sorting through all the possibilities in her head. "Perhaps more of a nuisance in progress but I still don't like it."

"Fern, it's probably harmless."

"I can't shake the feeling that it's not. I don't want Neville involved with those fucking Weasley twins, no matter what they're doing."

"You're going to smother that poor boy. They're his friends, let him have his fun!"

Fern glared at her level-headed friend and then laid back onto her bed in a huff.

"We'll see."

[wienerbarnes]

Agent 51

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 1,525

Warnings: some being sad feelings but otherwise none!

A/N: hehehe my plan all along 

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

“This contains your new passport, identification cards, fingerprints, and file with all of your medical and personal information. Memorize it. And don’t forget it. Around the tower you will be referred to as Agent 51 and you will answer only to Agent 51. You will under no circumstance use your real name, and your new teammates won’t either. Any questions?”

Nick Fury isn’t as intimidating as he was made out to be. He’s just tall, nothing special.

“How far do the numbers go?” You ask, eyes trained on the sealed bag with the documents detailing your ‘life’.

The clothes you wear feel foreign on your body; a black long sleeve cotton shirt with Avengers logo on the breast and thick black leggings to match. What you would do for a cardigan or tasteful belt or those green platforms you got or just anything other than black.

“Excuse me?” Fury’s voice is firm and almost angry sounding at the question. Even though he literally asked for any questions.

“I’m 51. How far do the numbers go? Is there a limit? Or do they just keep going forever? Like is there an Agent 6,000?” You meet his eyes, determined to let him know that you don’t find him scary in the slightest. Your posture is straight and your face is serious as you clarify your question. If they’re making me stay here, they’re certainly not going to get the nice me.

Your eyes flicker to Bucky who stands to the right of Fury when he attempts to disguise his laugh with a clearing of his throat, but your face stays unchanging.

“Sergeant, why don’t you escort your new teammate back to her quarters so she may be acquainted with her new identity.” Fury commands, more than asks.

Your eyes leave Fury’s for only a moment to glance at Sam and Sharon, who both offer you a reassuring smile of sorts before you turn and follow Bucky out of the office.

Bucky’s walking ahead of you towards the elevators when you pause in the middle of the hallway, staring at the heavy bag in your hands. Bucky’s voice calling your name, your real name, makes you look up at him.

“That’s not my name.” You respond as he makes his way back to you.

“Course it is.” He says as he finally approaches and stands in front of you.

“You’re not supposed to call me that.”

He snatches the bag of folders from your hands, “Well, I’m not calling you this fake name, that’s for sure.” He informs you before walking back towards the elevator once more, calling out a “C’mon” behind him. You follow and speed up your steps to catch up to him. Those are the first words you’ve spoken to him in three days.

The elevator ride and the walk to your room is silent and it’s only when you enter your room and go to close the door behind you when a metal hand stops you.

“What’s wrong with you, what did I do?” He asks and proceeds to push himself in, closing the door behind his back.

“What are you talking about?” You turn and walk to slip off your shoes next to your bed, frustration growing at his questions.

“Why do you seem so upset?”

“Because I’m here!” You spin around and snap at him. He flinches at the raising at your voice, you’ve never raised your voice at him. “This is, like, the second-to-last place I ever wanted to be, and you’re asking me why I’m upset?! I thought you of all people would know what it’s like to be forced to stay somewhere you don’t want to be and then have to work for the people keeping you there.”

His eyebrow twitches and you know that was a low blow, even for you. You turn back around and focus your eyes on a piece of lint on your pillow to try and hold your tears back. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

A hand touches your shoulder and you tense but quickly relax at the unbelievable comfort that comes from the warmth you feel through your shirt. “I’m sorry.” His voice comes closer than you were expecting, and it hits you then how much you missed him over the last three days.

It’s a feeling that’s so deep within you that arises; you want to cry of relief from having him close to you again, having his touch, hearing his voice, him. You’re not sure if you’ve ever felt something like it before, but then again, lately all of the feelings you have towards Bucky have been leaving you confused.

You sigh, “What are you sorry for, Bucky?”

“Maybe if I’d left you alone; if I’d not sought you out and looked for you, you’d still be in your apartment.”

“I’d be dead if you hadn’t come into my life, Bucky.” You reassure him, closing your eyes and feeling guilt overcome you at the thought that he was blaming himself for your sadness.

“I… I’m just- I don’t want to be here, Bucky. I’m not upset with you, I’m upset at the situation.” The lump in your throat is rising faster and faster.

“And- and I just wanna be left alone. For a bit. If-if that’s okay.” You get out without allowing your voice to crack.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course- of course it’s okay. Of course.” He stutters out, hand leaving your shoulder and body moving to gently place the bag of your documents on your desk, before leaving your room without another word, the door quietly shutting behind him.

…

It’s been a week at the tower. You’ve kept completely to yourself, besides a few conversations you have with F.R.I.D.A.Y. It was odd at first, talking to a robot that was recording and tracking not only everything you did, but everything happening at the tower. But it was nice, what she would tell you, anyway. A good amount of your questions were met with, “I’m not authorized to give you that information, Agent” or “You are not of high enough clearance for me to say, Agent”.

She informs you every night when Sam and Sharon, and some lucky agents every once in a while, are eating dinner in the common dining area, but you choose to make your own food and eat alone in your room.

You recognize that they were trying to be as welcoming as possible, and they did you quite the favor of forcing you to be here rather than prison. But it was weird. The barrier between Avenger and inmate turned to Avenger and escaped criminal and now Avenger and Agent, all in such a short period of time. You just weren’t comfortable yet.

You’ve spent all of your time in your room. Minus the one time you ventured out to the library that F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed you of where you gathered two or three books to occupy your time, considering there hasn’t been any missions or cases requiring your abilities.

The only other time you’ve left your room is now, when the A.I. told you of the request for you to head to the medical bay, where all of your medical information was updated. You hadn’t had a proper check up in about a decade, so the nurse, that seemed more like an intern in scrubs, took quite a lot of blood.

Not that blood has ever really bothered you anyway.

Approaching your room and turning the knob, you find something blocking the other side, forcing you to push harder to get the door open enough to get inside. About six large boxes stacked together is what you find blocking your entrance.

“Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Who brought these boxes in here?” You question, going to grab the scissors from your desk and opening them wide in order to tear open the line of tape sealing them closed.

“Sergeant Barnes did, Agent.”

Even more confusion.

You finally pop the box open to see - your stuff!

You let out a gasp - the blue tapestry you had draping over that card table, your clothes, your shoes, your bags, your earrings, everything! You quickly open the other boxes and see your fluffy blankets, your plants wrapped neatly in paper, even your mugs and plates you had in your cupboards. Your lufa, your robe, your scrunchies, everything is here!

You have to blink away teary eyes due to the absolute joy and surprise you feel right now. Even a few giggles escape you from contentment.

You pause in your inner celebration and backtrack to what you just heard. Sergeant Barnes did. Bucky brought your stuff. Bucky went to your apartment with boxes, packaged all your stuff, including taking the time to wrap anything fragile in paper, and then drove all the way here to drop it off to you, After you said you missed it a couple of days ago when you last saw him.

A smile grows on your face, and you’ve got to give it to him.

He’s trying. So you will, too.

[synnefo-nefeli]

I really love the scene in Heard Your Heart Beating when Apollo and Klavier sleep after drinking and Apollo wakes up at some point and looks at Klavier and thinks about him and Daryan and Kristoph. Idk I really like the vibe of it and also Apollo is really fond of him and you can see it lol

This is for the DVD Commentary Author Ask if there is a scene from any of my works you’d like to see a DVD commentary on, send me an ask!

Yesss this one of my favorite scenes so far in HYHB.

So there are two things going on in this scene- one is a payoff moment when Apollo figures out the significance of Valentine's Day is to Klavier, and the other is the emergence of the theme of " Safety". This chapter also functions as a transition point from Klavier and Apollo moving from work colleagues into a closer friendship. There is still a giddy nervousness at the beginning of this chapter that is usually associated with moving to the next step.

I wanted to express that almost frenetic nervous energy when inviting a new friend/date/etc into your personal space for the first time. And Apollo, despite him stating repeatedly that the hangout is platonic/feeling guilty about appearing to move on from Clay /trying to keep that boundary that’s existed so far between them, allows that boundary to fall.

By the end of the chapter there is now a comfort and deeper trust between them so that their relationship can continue to develope organically over the next few chapters without Apollo being constantly flustered every time Klavier teases him or there still being awkward feelings between them. They’re still in the “getting to know you” phase of their friendship but they’re at the point where coffee breaks and after work drinks no longer suffice. They now want to hang out as much as possible.

More under the cut so I don't spoil people for this chapter

Before I get back into the Safety theme I want to reiterate the meaning of the story’s title. It comes from Florence + The Machine’s song, “Cosmic Love”. The lyric goes:

“ I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too-So I stayed in the darkness with you”

This lyric aside from Comic Love being a big mood inspiration for the story, this lyric refers to Klavier and Apollo finding eachother after going through a really shitty and traumatic year and a half.

They recognize that the other is a source of some comfort as each of them understand what the other is going through a little bit better than the others around them.

This scene is the first confirmation to the reader that yes, Klavier is actively seeking out Apollo for comfort.

So far in this story we know *something* is bothering Klavier- he’s actively avoiding someone and he’s been kinda timid in reaching out to people without having his glimmerous persona constantly on. In the following chapter, Klavier mentions that he’s been asked to be in Edgeworth’s wedding.

Apollo attempts to commiserate with Klavier about this as Phoenix has just asked Apollo to be his best man.

Klavier tells Apollo that Apollo shouldn’t be shocked about being asked to be Phoenix’s best man- considering how much Apollo means to Phoenix. He has to point out to Apollo how much Apollo means to Phoenix and Trucy as well as how Apollo impacted Klavier’s choice to return to the legal world full-time.

And while Klavier is honored that he’s been asked by Edgeworth, his being asked is more of a surprise than Apollo being included in the Wright-Edgeworth nuptials. There is no way that Apollo wouldn’t be included after all he’s done for Phoenix and Trucy and how close he is to the WAA. Klavier had a different dynamic with Edgeworth. Part of this because, well, it’s Edgeworth. But Edgeworth has formed close bonds with Gumshoe and Kay...but Edgeworth just spent the last few years chasing down a Phantom Criminal in order to save Simon from Death Row. So Miles and Simon had a closer dynamic.

Klavier unfortunately comes with a lot of baggage-most of it being from things beyond his control. It was his debut that resulted in Miles’ partner from being disbarred and disgraced. There is everything with Kristoph. Combine the canon stuff along with this story establishing that the Gavins and the von Karmas have a bit of a family feud going on, it’s no wonder why Klavier admits to feeling that he’s still needs to figure out if and where he belongs.

He’s always looked up to Phoenix and Miles and wants to spend his career under them, but he thinks he needs more chances to prove himself to rebuild trust.

Of course- the obvious signal Klavier is missing, is “Hi, the Chief Prosecutor has asked you to be in his wedding party. If the grooms didn’t like you, you wouldn’t have been invited let alone asked to be IN THEIR WEDDING PARTY” ...and he misses it right after he’s finished telling Apollo, “how could youthink you’d wouldn’t be included, Herr Forehead. Jeeze.”

Like I said- Klavier is shit at taking his own advice. I’m not being mean to Klavier, but because Klavier is anxious about trusting people and letting people in, he prefers to do things on his own terms and under his control just in case he needs to get out if he gets rejected.

And even though he reached out to Apollo first with his condolences for Clay’s death he didn’t expect anything more than a thank you note, but Apollo not only acknowledging him, hunting him down to his apartment and even offering his company to Klavier, was a happy surprise to someone who has been very lonely.

He’s been wanting to get to know Apollo but he’s felt awkward due to the fallout with Kristoph and the continuing dark age of the law of which he was apart of the two major catalysts.

Apollo over the last few weeks is appearing to be a safe space for Klavier.

However Klavier wants more confirmation and a chance to suss things out (re: Kristoph). So when Apollo says he doesn’t have plans and was oblivious about Valentine’s, Klavier pounces on it. He spent Valentine’s alone the previous year and it spiraled his depression so he was not in the mood to again this year.

This scene was meant to be that very comfortable state between two people with a budding friendship. Once you get drunk with someone while having deep conversations, it tends to push you more into the friendship category.

It was also important to get some of the serious topics out rather than dragging it out. Having this quiet evening is something they both needed, and it allowed them be vulnerable. Especially since Apollo was already upset from the phone conversation he had with the Terrans earlier in the chapter.

Apollo needed a night in with the only person who has never treated him with kid gloves, even before Clay’s death. And Klavier needed a night in with the only person who has never put him on a pedestal.

When discussing Kristoph, it was important to remind the reader that Kristoph is a human being- it’s what makes him a compelling villain and why his betrayal of both Apollo and Klavier’s trust strikes an emotional chord with the player. Before the events of AA4, there was a time where Kristoph gained Apollo and Klavier’s love and loyalty, where he was a normal boss, a dog-dad, a good older brother. There were good times and happy memories- which is why when Kristoph is exposed, Apollo and Klavier are disillusioned- Klavier moreso. But another reason as to why Klavier finds Apollo to be a safe haven, is because, Apollo knew the Kristoph Klavier loved. They both wanted Kristoph to be proud of them. They respected him and wanted Kristoph to be proud of and acknowledge them.

Klavier has been wanting to talk to Apollo about this for awhile and I believe so has Apollo. Apollo is never going to say to Phoenix, “hey Mr. Wright, Mr. Gavin was a good mentor to me too-“ it wouldn’t go over well, even though Kristoph was a good mentor to Apollo-his only flaw was thinking that Apollo would happily be a lickspittle and easy to manipulate. So when Apollo gives Klavier that reassurance that Klavier can talk about those happier moments of his life involving Kristoph, Klavier sees that Apollo wants to take that awkward stress away from Klavier but also Apollo wants to get to know Klavier better.

Klavier is so used to people researching his celebrity persona and forming opinions based off of his former lifestyle, that it’s refreshing to find someone who wants to organically grow their relationship without preconceptions.

Yes, Apollo initially wrote Klavier off as being a fop and glimmorous- but those thoughts were due to Apollo being self-conscious. By the end of Turnabout Serenade, Apollo admits that Klavier is pretty cool and in DD, Apollo remarks that Klavier is different than most prosecutors and how dedicated Klavier is towards his job.

It was also important in this chapter to allow for Apollo to discuss Clay and his relationship with Clay’s family. You’ll notice in this story that Klavier is the only person Apollo will share anecdotes about Clay with and freely grieve about Clay. It’s not that Apollo hides it from The WAA, he does share some things with them, but right now, Klavier is the only close peer Apollo has, and this comfortable vulnerability they’ve trusted eachother with allows Apollo to express himself with out him fearing that he’ll appear fragile. He’s tired of people walking on eggshells around him, but Klavier hasn’t and never will.

Likewise, I made sure to have Klavier fish for information about Apollo. Yes they’ve been hanging out for weeks at this point and worked a case together (sorta), but those coffee dates have been more talking about work, general topics like Trucy’s shows, etc.. they’ve been light in topic. So dinner and drinks at someone’s home gives way to deeper conversations about value-systems, love lives (even though Apollo isn’t entirely truthful lol), etc. And it works really well to the point they get more comfortable than either had anticipated.

I loved writing the discussion about how Klavier will never ever do a performance of “The Guitar’s Serenade” where he’s singing Lamiror’s words. It was such an organic moment while writing too- Klavier just started talking about how he’s feel like an imposter to sing those words because he’s never experienced a lost true love...and he hopes that he’ll never know what that feels like. It’s an honest moment that puts to rest any assumptions Apollo may have had about if Klavier is just a flirt not to be taken seriously in the romance department.

Hearing that Klavier is pretty private in his love life, isn’t a player, and has pretty much admitted that he tries to date with the intention of marriage, shows Apollo more into Klavier’s serious and introspective side. A side that Apollo’s only known in the context of their work. It makes Apollo realize that Klavier is human and is wanting of things like love and companionship. More importantly, Klavier will take those things seriously should he be so lucky to receive them.

There is also a bit of humor here- because c’mon Klavier lives to be playful when he can, and he wants to know more about Apollo’s views on love and relationships. Apollo is adorably flustered because he doesn’t want to admit he’s still a virgin. But in this portion I wanted to start laying down the idea that Apollo is demisexual. Part of the reason he hasn’t fallen in love or felt desire is because he’s fullfilled by his relationships with those he holds dear, but also no one has been interested in Apollo and stayed long enough to bond with Apollo in a way for desire to to bloom.

Because they’re starting as friends-particularly a friendship made as adults- this is going to give Apollo that chance to realize he wants more from Klavier. And for Klavier who wants a true friend and companion after the betrayals he’s suffered, Apollo is a perfect match for him.

The most important thing for me while writing this scene was to show Apollo and the reader that Klavier is suffering and grieving just like Apollo is, (and to establish early that Klavier is super bad at taking any of his own advice) and for Apollo to start drawing parallels to himself while wanting to dig into what’s going on with Klavier.

Apollo is interesting because he’s more likely to say what’s exactly bothering him but fails to realize his feelings about others.

Whereas Klavier is very aware of his own feelings but will hide what’s bothering him from others.

They’re also two people who now need reassurance about where they fit in and how others consider them in their lives.

And if you were wondering: yes, at this point Klavier does have a crush on Apollo haha. So getting invited to sleep over was a bonus for him...despite it being labeled as a “platonic sleep-over”, because at this point in the story, it is a platonic sleep over. Klavier is good at reading the room (even when drunk) to know that Apollo isn’t making a move on him and neither should he.

The comment Klavier makes about Apollo’s bed’s size is a homage to my favorite BL manga, FAKE. In the manga, Ryo who has just started as a detective at a new precinct and met his new partner, Dee- has Dee over that same day for dinner and Dee winds up staying the night. Ryo has a large bed for a single guy (according to Dee) and Dee makes a comment “that’s a big bed you got there, do you have a girl to go with it?” because Dee the little shit that he is, is trying to see if Ryo is single (and yes, they sleep in the same bed that night. How is that fir team building haha...it’s totally platonic. It takes Dee 7 volumes to get that. Please read it it’s a classic). Klavier is totally asking to get a rise out of Apollo because Klavier suspects that Apollo exaggerated his experience because Apollo’s pivot was not smooth at all XD.

Finally the last aspect of showing safety is them sleeping in the same bed together. We know from descriptions of Klavier that Klavier has not been sleeping well. Something is keeping him up at night and his mood has been less glimmerous. When he arrives at Apollo’s that evening; he wasn’t able to really conceal the dark circles under his eyes. Apollo has been missing Clay, who would usually sleep over and share the bed with Apollo,’s company.

Sleeping next to someone, especially falling into a deep sleep in a bed that is not your own, is a sign of trust. Yes they were sleepy from the alcohol, but they went to bed together easily, slept for hours, had brunch, and went BACK to sleep. Neither minded, nor did Klavier feel that he should leave after they ate. They are comfortable and too hungover to even think about anything except getting more sleep XD Also it’s not as if Klavier is in a hurry to get home when he eventually saw the text from his land lady.

Sorry if that was a rambling response but I have a lot of love for this scene in particularly and I’m so excited to give a behind the scenes look at it!

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 1.6.2 “How Jean Can Become Champ”

I’m sorry if some of this is muddled, I wrote some of this post to avoid doomscrolling yesterday (not that it worked). It’s also long.

First of all I gotta say, I do love how Hugo manages to get everything to slot into place, when he doesn’t use his handwavy magic. The chapter opens with Madeleine settling some “pressing business of the mayorality” just in case he decides to go and collect Cosette from Montfermeil himself. Obviously this doesn’t happen, but the fact that he’s arranged stuff in advance means he’s able to go to Arras etc and mayoral matters are settled even when he’s revealed his true identity.

Hugo calls Javert “this savage in the service of civilization, this odd mixture of Roman, Spartan, monk, and corporal.” I’ve always assumed the term “savage” was another reference to his Romani ancestry, as well as his origins within a jail. The rest of the references have to do with different types or levels of self-discipline and sense of duty. Essentially, this phrase is saying that Javert carries his sense of duty with him everywhere and rarely strays from it. I’ve nicked this straight from the wikipedia page on Roman pietas, but I feel like it fits so well: “A Roman with the virtue of pietas did not leave his religious duties at the door of the temple, but carried them with him everywhere, following the will of the gods in his business transactions and everyday life.”

"His whole being expressed abasement and steadfastness, an indescribably courageous dejection.” Weirdly I love this description. Javert hates being wrong, but to admit it is to  act justly and according to duty, so he does it. Which is just so interesting because he could easily not even bother to tell Valjean about any of this, and just go on with his life as normal, and Valjean would be none the wiser. But that’s not how Javert functions. The difference between himself and other cops is that his sense of duty and justice extends to himself, which he says much more directly later on in the chapter. I just like that this description includes both his steadfastness to duty and his humiliation and self-frustration at being wrong and admitting it. “Courageous dejection” is such an interesting phrase, but it makes sense. It takes courage to admit you’re wrong, and even more when it’s something as egregious as informing on a superior.

Javert interrupts Valjean here, which I can’t decide what to think about. Part of me assumes that he interrupts Valjean because Valjean hasn’t even started to speak, so it’s still sort of....socially allowed for Javert to tack another bit of explanation onto what he just finished saying. Part of me wonders if Javert feels okay about interrupting Valjean either because he assumes he’s going to be dismissed anyway, and so this small rudeness of interrupting a superior doesn’t really matter, or because despite his sense of duty, he still feels quite a bit of aversion towards Valjean (which Hugo tells us a paragraph prior) and so is less bothered by interrupting him due to his dislike. Either way, it’s interesting that Javert is so keen on duty and correct conduct and yet he interrupts Valjean here.

“...you were severe to me the other day, unjustly. Be justly so today.” Wow okay so. Javert directly disobeyed and contested authority, argued with Madeleine and attempted to undermine his command to let Fantine go. Madeleine reacted accordingly, sending Javert away. And yet Javert feels that this treatment was unjust. I think the reason he sees it as unjust is because he sees himself as defending the honor of a mayor or authority figure (as well as a well-to-do citizen, Bamatabois) against a lowly prostitute. Despite the fact that Valjean specifically defended Fantine and offered her help, he’s still going to see his defense of authority and justice as being in the right over Valjean’s empathy towards her. (Sidenote: I love that he says “the other day” even though Fantine’s arrest was almost two months ago.)

Again, we get another concrete passage of time. It’s been six weeks since Fantine’s arrest. She’s still in hospital. Hugo isn’t huge on indicating exact passages of time. Lots of “eh, about three weeks later” or “maybe four months ago” in this book. Also the absolute mess of the Thenardier boys’ timeline. Anyway, these continuous references to how much time has passed is important. Hugo wants us to know how long Fantine was a sex worker for, and now how long she’s been languishing in bed, still sick.

Javert lists off things that he recognized in Valjean. All of these make sense to me except “information you obtained at Faverolles.” When has Madeleine ever mentioned being from or going to Faverolles? The Hapgood translates this as “inquiries which you had caused to be made at Faverolles.” This makes it sound like he actively tried to find his family. Hugo specifically tells us that by the time Valjean left prison, he had forgotten his family entirely. And yet, it seems here as if he made an effort to find them, or find out what happened to them, once he had the means. What’s interesting to me is that Valjean would do that at all. Part of me says, well of course he would, he still cares about his family, and probably wants to know what happened to them, not to mention he has this thing about rose-colored glasses and probably was hoping he’d get some information despite knowing deep down that they were lost to him. But another part of me wonders why he would do that, considering that it could compromise his identity. Also I can imagine he might associate his past self, even his pre-bread robbery self, with his convict-Valjean self and his past as a “Bad Person,” so I’m not sure he would want to think about or associate with his convict self in that way. Just the idea that he maybe sent to Faverolles for information about his family is an interesting little piece of information.

We also learn that he has a leg that drags a little (and at the very end of the novel we learn it’s because he spent 20 years with a chain on that leg). Something that I’ve sort of written about before, when I reread the book in February last year, is how much information about Valjean we don’t get from Hugo’s narration. Despite much of the book being from Valjean’s POV (or Hugo looking over Valjean’s shoulder, which is how I always imagine it), Hugo always stays respectfully distant compared to his narration of other characters. The post I wrote was mostly re: Valjean’s true Thoughts And Feelings, but it also goes for a lot of his physical aspects and actions as well. Hugo doesn’t tell us about Valjean’s dragging leg when he describes him, Javert has to reveal that to us. We are told a lot of his aspects or actions through other characters interpreting him to him (wow jesus does that phrase make sense?) rather than Hugo showing/telling us while narrating through Valjean.

“He was very poor. Nobody paid any attention to him. Such people get by, one hardly knows how.” So my first thought is that this line is sort the opposite of what I talked about above. Javert knows how such people get by. Partly because he sees it every day, and partly because he grew up like that. While we just got evidence of Valjean remembering his past, this is evidence of Javert rejecting and forgetting his own. And my other thought is again how applicable this is to modern day. Cops, rich people, etc turn away despite knowing how hard poor people struggle. They know “how these people get by,” which is barely, and they know why and they know what can help or fix it, but they turn away and absolutely refuse to see it.

“Such people, when they are not mud, are dust.” This is such a pretty and poetic way of declaring such a gross opinion. But also it’s such an interesting pair of descriptors. When you’re poor the way Valjean was, or the Thenardiers will be, you are in a position to be blown away by society and by poverty, to be dirt that disappears and spreads far and wide with the gust of wind, and if you’re trying to locate a certain speck of dirt that you had been looking at before the wind blew, you wouldn’t be able to identify it. Or you’re in a position to be bogged down, to be stuck packed together, trying to survive, begging and stealing off of others around you because there’s no other way to survive, being stepped on and scoffed at by people in a better position than you, and then scraped up and tossed in a gutter or the galleys when it gets to be too much.

We get an age! Valjean is fifty-four. I feel like this is important mostly for his hair later on. Fifty is old enough to be greying but I think this makes us aware that he’s not yet old enough to be totally white-haired, and the change is a shock for that reason as well.

Holy shit this is the most adjectives I’ve seen used to describe a single character within a single chapter so far. Words describing Javert or Javert’s actions in this chapter: respectfully, conscientious, clearheaded, straightforward, sincere, upright, austere, fierce, violent, soldierly, cold, patient, genuine humility, tranquil, resigned, serious, calm, gloomy, sad, abasement, steadfastness, courageous dejection, solemnity, incorruptible, supplicating, simplicity, dignity, unenlightened, stern, pure, desperate, resolute, bizarre grandeur, oddly honest. The biggest takeaway from all of these, I think, is how much Javert’s pious loyalty to justice and morality is not corrupt, at least in the usual sense. It’s misguided, it’s unsympathetic, but he genuinely believes in his own actions. He is aware of his severity, but he doesn’t see it as cruelty, he sees it as justice. He doesn’t acknowledge the evil of his actions because he doesn’t see them as evil. He is (and I want to go into this later for 1.8.3) a personification of the “evil of good,” and an illustration of how justice can go too far. But he does everything with that air of honesty and cold dignity, because he genuinely believes that his morals and his dedication to justice is in the right.

“And now that I see the real Jean Valjean, I do not understand how I could have believed anything else. I beg your pardon.” So we’ve already established that Javert does not change his mind or admit wrong easily. We also already know he doesn’t like Valjean anyway. The only reason, it seems, that he is admitting to this mistake and asking for dismissal, is because of Valjean’s position of authority. Javert does not do mercy; once he believes someone is bad, they are forever bad. The exception is those in power, those who he sees as authority figures, even when he questioned them just a chapter or two earlier. His sense of duty overrides his morality. Which I think is a major point for him. This is what screws him over later on at the end of the book. When his morality drastically changes, he can’t change his sense of duty to fit it. The issue in this chapter a mistake which is fairly excusable: there is another person he can transfer that moral judgement onto (Champmathieu) and Valjean’s position as an authority figure overrides any of the moral suspicions Javert had about him before this transfer of moral judgement. If Madeleine-Valjean had been just a regular merchant, I wonder if Javert would have admitted to his identity mistake but also continued to be suspicious, simply because his instincts told him that if you think someone is bad, they’re probably bad.

Oh okay so this actually potentially answers my question from last chapter. Javert says “Scaling a wall and theft includes everything. It is a case not for a police court but for the superior court.” So does that mean the police could just toss people into prison for however long they liked if the crime was a misdemeanor?

Javert mentions that the police have not found Petit Gervais. I mostly want to note this because Hugo told us earlier on that Valjean gives money to every Savoyard that passes through M-sur-M and asks their name, and it seemed to imply that in doing that he’s maybe secretly hoping Petit Gervais will turn up. If Valjean hasn’t found Petit Gervais yet, I doubt the cops will.

Javert fundamentally misunderstands how Valjean is sly and cunning. Because Valjean is quite clever and cunning, but the difference is nearly all of his cunning comes not from direct lies or playing dumb the way that Javert is implying, but by using his surroundings and other people’s assumptions to his own advantage. (Plus disguises and wigs, but we don’t see that until Paris.) He buys himself time through things like the fake address trick during the Thenardier encounter, or wandering and disappearing into the woods like Boulatruelle observed, or taking advantage of incomplete information, like becoming Fauchelevent’s brother or burning his passport and becoming Father Madeleine. Valjean’s whole thing is being able to very quickly scan a room, register things, and then adapt and/or react to his situation quite quickly. (Side note: What’s interesting to me is that he’s great at adapting and acting when it comes to action but he is rather stilted and slow when it comes to emotional reaction or adaptation.)

“...tell her to make her complaint against the carter Pierre Chesnelong. He is a brutal fellow, he almost crushed this woman and her child.” Whenever Hugo mentions carts there’s usually symbolism there. In this case it sounds to me like a parallel of Javert, Fantine, and Cosette. At this point, Fantine is still alive though very sick, and Valjean is planning to go to Montfermeil himself to get Cosette. Javert’s imprisonment of Fantine would have destroyed Cosette along with Fantine, just as Chesnelong’s cart nearly crushed Mme Buseaupied and her child. She gets to make a complaint, she has the potential for Chesnelong to be punished. Fantine doesn’t have that, not to the same extent. She dies before it could happen anyway, but even if it could, she’s a prostitute who would be complaining against a cop, there’s not a lot of power on her side, even with Valjean vouching for her. But at this point, she’s only been “nearly” crushed; her child will be with her soon, at least she get that reunion despite being mortally ill, and Javert’s punishment for nearly crushing Fantine and Cosette is, weirdly, Valjean’s refusal to acknowledge his sense of duty and dismiss him.

“Besides, this is an offense that concerns only me.” This almost exactly parallels Valjean’s comment on Fantine insulting him: “The insult is to me. I can do what I please about it.” This is the second time that Valjean has denied, to his face, Javert’s sense of justice and duty by claiming offenses as a personal matter rather than a judicial one.

“In my life I have often been severe to others. It was just. I was right. Now if I were not severe toward myself, all I have justly done would become injustice. Should I spare myself more than others. No. You see, if I had been eager only to punish others and not myself, that would have been despicable!” I mentioned it above, but this is just so telling. Javert knows how severe he is, but he doesn’t see it as cruelty or lack of empathy, he sees his severity as totally in the right because it is for the good of justice. He especially sees it as good because he is willing to treat himself in a similar way. But this does make me wonder, like, would any treatment he got be as callous as the way he treats others? He’s a cop, and while he’s not the favorite of the other cops, he’s still an authority figure. So if he asked for others to be severe to him the way he had been severe to others, would they be? Or would they treat him better because he is or was an authority figure? Anyway, this line really establishes how entrenched in his own morals Javert really is. I feel like these lines here are the entire setup for his conflict and death at the end of the book. If he didn’t believe in treating himself with the same severity as others, the stakes wouldn’t be as high re: the consequences for letting Valjean go free.

Javert calls the defense of a lower person against a higher-up “ill-begotten kindness,” which I think is a really good indication of the way his view of justice works. Defending someone like Fantine, who has been beaten down and nearly broken by the system, isn’t empathy or charity to him, but kindness that shouldn’t be. He seems to think that in situations like this, the person who is being pardoned or defended shouldn’t be, and is sort of like gunning for special treatment by accepting that kindness.

“Good God, it is easy to be kind, the difficulty is to be just.” Maybe this is a weird way to look at this line, but I can’t help but think about Valjean’s conflict after leaving Digne when I read this. At that point, for Valjean, the difficult was in choosing to be kind, rather than choosing to continue to ride his old instincts that would lead to more crime. Javert learns at the end of the novel how difficult it is to be kind when all you know is being “just,” and it kills him. But here Javert equates kindness with moral leniency or maybe even moral abandonment, rather than with empathy and aid. To Javert, people who have done something criminal or morally bad cannot change and cannot be rehabilitated and will always be bad. Which makes me wonder what he thinks kindness actually is. What is Javert’s version of kindness, since he sees kindness in the form of aid or sympathy as reprehensible?

I wonder if Javert is thinking of Fauchelevent when he says, “I have hands, I can till the ground.” Would Javert have changed if he’d gone into labor work for a while, like Fauchelevent? Would work as someone who has no power over others have changed him?

Javert describes himself as a spy in a derogatory way. I think this is the only time he ever references spying in a derogatory way towards himself. However, he has been described as a spy or having spy-like qualities more than once by Hugo. For just a moment, he agrees with the narrator and reader about what he’s like, only it’s from a completely different angle. We can see that he’s “like a police spy” because he’s merciless and inflexible and generally unwilling to change any of his ways at all. He sees himself as “like a police spy” because he has breached a social contract and not only falsely suspected but reported on a superior.

A thought on Tome 1.6: I find it really interesting that despite the fact that this tome is titled “Javert,” it doesn’t include 1.5.13, which contains more of Javert’s narrative than 1.6.1 does. In 1.5.13, we see the drastic effect Valjean’s actions have on Javert, and the emotional turmoil he goes through in questioning authority the way that he does. And yet, that chapter is contained in “The Descent.” Instead, the Tome starts with “Now, Rest,” and Javert’s only role in this chapter is to write the letter to the prefect of police. So despite the Tome being titled after him, Javert is really only emotionally and narratively relevant for the second chapter. I would think that it might have been better to bookend the Tome with two chapters that were most relevant to him, 1.5.13 (which would be 1.6.1 then) and 1.6.2. Instead, 1.6.1 focuses more on Fantine’s condition which, though caused by Javert, doesn’t actually include or affect him at this point. At the same time, the last Tome was titled “The Descent.” This descent of Fantine’s levels out once she has fainted, which is a good transition into the next Tome.

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

Hey so what do you think the seraphs were? The artifact lore says that the kahnjali were made for them, which means that they must have been human, or at least Exos. Swords kinda need hands. Lore seems to indicate that felwinter has big boi connections to Rasputin, possibly even being a Seraph himself (would explain why he doesn't have a reset indicator, that shit's classified af). If he is a Seraph, why does Rasputin say that they're "gone"?

Most lore we currently have points to Seraph being an organization under Rasputin’s authority. Based on the concept art Dima Goryanov recently posted, the Seraph bunkers were built to communicate with and interpret for Rasputin, continuing the fascinating idea from the Warmind DLC that even Rasputin’s alleged builders had serious problems just talking to him. There’s a reason Rasputin prefers to communicate either non-verbally or by quoting existing human literature. The Seraph bunkers seem to have functioned as a kind of mission control for a local instance of Rasputin; the Seraphim Vault in the Cosmodrome may have served a similar purpose on a larger scale.

But then we have the Tatarstan loretab. Rasputin says that the Seraphs were “all things to me. Everything I required,” bolstering the idea that the Seraph organization functioned as local agents of the Warmind. Ana also says the khanjalis Rasputin gave Guardians originally belonged to the Seraphs, and there are a lot of those, so maybe every member of the organization had one. However Ana then says he built “planetary combat platforms” for “seven Seraphs.” “Planetary combat platforms” is an amazingly vague yet ominous description. Does that mean the bunkers? Some kind of local HQ? Giant mechs? And why “seven Seraphs” if Seraph is an organization? We don’t know, although I have a hunch we may find out more as the season goes on. Maybe there were seven specific directors or agents of Rasputin in different areas? Worth noting that on at least one occasion Rasputin refers to an Exo as a “platform.”

Felwinter, on the other hand, is a different but equally fascinating story. tl;dr my money is on Felwinter being either Clovis Bray Sr., Clovis Bray Jr., or Alton Bray. Here’s what we know about Felwinter thus far:

1. Unlike other Exos he didn’t remember his original name when revived, but he immediately knew what the Deep Stone Crypt was and that Exos underwent “crypt processing.”

2. His Ghost immediately told him to use a different name because “they’re coming for you.”

3. Sometime after waking up Felwinter discovered something dire about his own identity that he and his Ghost are desperate to keep secret. If discovered it would force him and his Ghost to flee “again.” It’s dire enough that he’s ready to kill Lord Timur when he thinks Timur’s found out his secret.

4. Before meeting Iron Lord Timur he roamed alone for a significant time through a territory around the Aral Sea. During that time he had “extensive one-way conversations” with an unknown entity suspected to be - but not confirmed as - Rasputin. Felwinter met Timur in the Mothyards, part of the Cosmodrome.

5. Felwinter has a ton of information on the Warmind that’s all new to the Iron Lords, who didn’t even know the name “Rasputin” until he told them. He knows where Warmind bunkers are, how to break into them, and the sort of goodies that might be inside. He recognizes the word Seraph but plays dumb when Timur asks him about it; on another occasion he describes one of the Warmind bunkers as “a Seraph bunker.”

6. Felwinter and his Ghost consider an escape plan that would let them avoid “the Warsat network” and any planet “with a Warmind presence.” He comments that they’ve gotten “very good at hiding.”

7. Felwinter is a master tactician, the only Warlord to hold “an entire mountain” before joining up with the Iron Lords. He’s pragmatic and unafraid to break the rules; he executes the Warlord Citan and multiple other Lightbearers known to have committed major crimes. That includes Iron Lord Dryden once the Drifter tells Felwinter that Dryden had gotten the town of Eaton killed by using them as bait. Felwinter describes these murders as “operational necessity,” which Saladin comments is a weirdly blank statement for an Exo.

8. Felwinter went with the SIVA expedition into the Cosmodrome because he believed he could speak to Rasputin, “tell it we meant no harm.” Obviously that didn’t pan out and he ultimately died in the SIVA replication chamber.

So Felwinter is connected to Rasputin. But is he connected directly to the Warmind or indirectly through Clovis Bray Corp? His Ghost being so adamant about him concealing his name makes me think he must be Clovis Bray himself, either Sr. or Jr., because "Clovis Bray” is the only name I can think of that would be in danger of being recognized during the Dark Ages. The Iron Lords didn’t even know Rasputin’s name until Felwinter told them, but they did know Clovis Bray Corporation from its many ruined Earth facilities. 

On the other hand, maybe his Ghost wasn’t worried about humans recognizing his name. If the “planetary combat platforms” Rasputin built were heavily-customized Exo bodies, then Felwinter could be one of those seven Seraphs, and if Rasputin discovered he were alive again the Warmind would probably want him back. That would also explain why they’re so determined to avoid the warsat network and the Warmind’s presence in general. On the other other hand, not every warsat belongs to Rasputin. The ones drifting around the CB facility in Uranus orbit definitely don’t answer to him until he takes them over. While Felwinter is a great Iron Lord, his Exo body doesn’t seem to be any tougher or more dangerous than others - hardly deserving of the term “planetary combat platform.” Plus Felwinter used to hang out in the Mothyards in the Cosmodrome. If he were hiding from Rasputin, why would he have been chilling on Rasputin’s doorstep? 

Here’s my hunch: we don’t know what happened to Clovis Bray Sr., but we know he didn’t plan to die if he could help it. If he’s still around in some form, and if Felwinter is Clovis Bray Jr., he might be hiding from his scary lich dad rather than the Warmind proper. As a major player at CB Corp he would know a lot about the Seraph organization and Warmind facilities already. He might know he’s hiding from his dad, or have his dad and Rasputin confused, or Rasputin himself might bear Clovis Bray a grudge he’d be happy to take out on his son (but again, why leave him alone in the Cosmodrome?) 

And one last tidbit that might not mean anything, but then again might: the pull quote on Winter’s Guile is “I know you.” In Ghost Fragment: Rasputin 4, someone assumed to be Cosmodrome-Rasputin speaks to someone assumed to be Elsie Bray/the Exo Stranger, and one of the first things he says is, “It’s like my cousin said, elsewhere: I know who you are.” Did Felwinter recognize Rasputin? Did Rasputin call him “cousin”? Would he use that word for a Seraph - or for a member of the Bray family?

Either way I have a major suspicion that we’re not done with Felwinter’s story this season. Exciting stuff.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Catching Feelings 9/10 (Keanu x OFC)

Summary: AU in which Keanu is down on his luck after he comes to Hollywood trying to be an actor. To earn some money, he joins this app for escorts and meets Steph, a rising star who hires him to try to forget her ex. Neither of them is expecting to fall in love and all the problems it brings. Previous chapters:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Author’s Notes: This might be my favorite chapter so far. I’m very proud of how it turned out. Just to be safe, keep your tissues close.

Wordcount: 3377

Warnings: angst and mentions of alcohol 

“So, I heard back from the producers,” Jean started tone just a little hesitant and Steph got up from her seat, rolling her eyes.

She already knew what the next words would be. He had been her agent and publicist for a few months and she learned to recognize when he was about to break the news of another no.

“They said you great but…”

“Not what they’re looking for?” she completed with a bitter snort and Jean nodded, grimacing. “In other words, you’re radioactive and we want nothing to do with you. I don’t know why I even bother anymore.”

“Steph…” he started with that unsufferable sympathetic tone and she could feel his gaze on her as she paced in his office. “We gonna get through this. You just need…”

“To be patient and persevere,” she cut him off, repeating the words she had been hearing for the past six months. Even since her career imploded with the whole Keanu fiasco.

For weeks her face had been plastered in every trashy magazine that existed, her name associated with a sex scandal. Because she dared to fall in love with a man that happened to be an escort.

The first blow she suffered was the call from Judy, the woman had been with Steph since the beginning of her career. She ranted at Steph for being stupid enough to put herself in that position and offered a solution that was basically throwing Keanu under the bus. Tell the press that she had no idea he was an escort. Steph wouldn’t do it. This was her mess, not his.

Judy quitted after that, leaving Steph without an agent or publicist to help her navigate through this mess. Fortunately, Jean had been a lifesaver and took Steph under his wing, working out all the necessary statements and helping her dodge most of the press.

The second blow came on Monday when Fincher was waiting for Steph at the set with an added scene on his script. They were killing off her character. To keep the integrity of the work, he said. It made more sense…

Even he didn’t believe his own words and Steph just wanted to scream and hit someone. This had been a dream project for her, and they were casting her aside like she was nothing. And even though it cost her a hefty penalty for contract breach, Steph never regretted walking out of the set and refusing to shoot the metaphorical death of her career.

Instead, she flew back home and discovered it was true what they said: you only knew your real friends when shit hit the fan. Ad companies ended contracts with her; production companies that had offered her parts in upcoming movies pulled back their offers; people she had worked before, that knew her, and that Steph always considered close friends, and cut off communication with her. Only a handful remained in the end, among them Vincent, Jean, and Gwen. Everyone else bailed and Steph couldn’t believe how naïve she was to believe that they were her friends.

“Maybe it’s time I face the truth, Jean,” she sighed, looking out the window in his office. In the distance, she could see the Hollywood sign in the Hills she called home. “If I can’t even get a secondary character in a cheesy rom-com, my career is over.”

“No!” he protested, getting up to stand beside her. “You made only one mistake in this whole thing,” Jean said, laying his hands on her arms, making Steph look at him. “You pushed away the man you love. Everything else? That’s judgmental bullshit from a hypocritical business and I’m not gonna let them punish you for falling in love.”

There was determination in his handsome face. His eyes shone with it as he let go of Steph and moved back to his desk, shifting things around until he came up with a stack of papers and handed it Steph. It was a script and she recognized the writer and director’s name: Katheryn Gerwig.

“They sent it in for another actress I’m representing,” he explained. “It’s an independent movie, very low budget, unlike anything you’ve ever done, but it is the main character and Gerwig is a genius.”

“What about your other client?” Steph asked, looking back to Jean.

“I’ll just make sure she had a schedule conflict,” he assured with a wink, making Steph smile thankfully, before pulling him into a hug. “You might want to give up on yourself, darling, but I’m not there yet. So, read it and if you like it, I’ll set up a meeting with Gerwig.”

---

Steph changed positions on her chair for the sixth time in the last five minutes, her fingers restlessly rearranging every single item there was in the table, trying to work out the energy thrumming through her.

She hadn’t felt this nervous since her first audition ten years ago, coming back to acting after dropping out at age 13. At least back then the only reputation she had was of child starlet that gave up the spotlight for a normal teenager life. Now, even months later, she knew they still referred to her as the former raising star that had to pay for love.

Steph was tired of it; the whispers and snide comments, but she was determinate to keep her head high. That was why this meeting was so important. If this didn’t work, if Gerwig wouldn’t take her, she would be done. Steph would rather get out in her own terms than everyone else’s.

Checking the time again, Steph considered asking the waiter for something stronger than orange juice. Even if it was 10 in the morning. Maybe decided against it. Her worst decisions had been made thanks to alcohol. Instead, she looked out at the view, trying to see it the rhythmic movements of the waves would soothe her racing heart.

Gerwig had scheduled this meeting at a seaside restaurant Steph had never heard of before. It was small and intimate and more importantly, out of the way enough that most people around had better things to do than worry about potential celebrities hanging around. Aside from that, the view was fantastic and if the smell waffling from the kitchen was any indication, the food was too. This could easily become Steph’s new favorite spot. If this meeting went well.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, dear,” Gerwig spoke, startling Steph. “No need to get up,” she said before dropping on the chair in front of her, taking off her hat.

The woman that sat before Steph was impressive. Not only because she was stunning; Her sand blonde hair waving in the soft breeze, a few grey strands shining against the sun. Her blue eyes were startling bright and showed a sort of keen intelligence that seemed to pierce through her. The wrinkles around her eyes and mouth spoke of a life well-lived, full of laughter and challenges.

Steph didn’t know why, but she immediately liked Gerwig. It was almost as if she had found a kindred spirit and something inside her connected at a deeper level with the older woman before her.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” Steph said, suddenly feeling like a beginner meeting their idol. “Thank you so much for meeting me, Mrs. Gerwig.”

“Of course,” she replied with a kind smile. “Call me Katheryn. I’ve always hated Gerwig. It’s my ex-husband's name.”

“Sure.” Steph nodded quickly, her own smile nervous and hesitant as Katheryn asked for a mimosa. Apparently, unlike Steph, the older woman had no qualms on drinking before noon.

“I have to say, dear, a lot of people advised me against taking this meeting,” Katheryn declared, sipping her drink. “So, before we talk about my movie, I want to understand why.” She set her glass aside, entwining her fingers together and resting her chin on top of them, watching Steph with her full attention. “Tell me everything.”

And Steph did. Much like she had done to Vincent, she shared every detail of what happened between her and Keanu and the aftermath of it until they reached that particular moment of her life, struggling to get a role in anything worth wanting to be part of.

“That’s it?” Katheryn asked once Steph fell silent, and the young actress nodded. “For fuck sake! The way my producer was speaking, I thought you murdered someone or something. Definitely something more serious than falling in love with a hooker.”

She clicked her tongue in something like disappointment. If with the fact that Steph’s story wasn’t as juicy as she expected or that her producer made a bigger deal of it than necessary, Steph couldn’t tell.

“Honestly, if the roles were reversed, it would be a fairytale. He would be Richard Gere and you Julia Roberts,” Katheryn continued with an eye-roll. “This is why I hate Hollywood.”

“You don’t care, then?” Steph asked hopefully and Katheryn shook her head, gesturing to for the waiter to bring her another mimosa. “So, you let me audition for the role of Sarah?”

“That’s another matter entirely, dear,” Katheryn replied, looking back at Steph. “I took a look at your work and you weren’t exactly what I was envisioning for the role. Don’t get me wrong, you’re great, but I was thinking of something more subtle.”

“Oh.” It was all Steph could say. She really didn’t expect that it would be her career itself that would take this role from her and not what happened.

“I hope you understand,” Katheryn said with a sympathetic smile. “I need raw emotion, but not something too overt or explicit. I need…” she paused, deep I thought. “You know what the title of my movie means?” She asked and Steph shook her head. “That word, Saudade, it’s Portuguese. There’s no translation to English, but it conveys a sort of nostalgic longing for a place, a memory, a person. Like…”

“Like it’s a part of you that you’re missing?” Steph said, her gaze looking away from the woman in front of her.

To an onlooker, it would seem like she was just admiring the ocean extending in front of her. The blue waters that seemed to mix with the bright skies. The fluffy white bubbles whenever the waves crashed on the shore. The boats in the distance and the couples walking hand in hands through the wet sand… It made the scene look like a painting.  However, Steph’s gaze was actually lost, unseeing as she searched for the words to describe the feeling Katheryn was talking about.

“It feels almost as if they left a hole in your soul, shaped like them and that never full heals,” she sighed, feeling the tears brimming in her eyes. “Most days, it just a dull ache and you can actually trick yourself into forgetting and not noticing. If you’re busy enough if you work hard enough, it makes you believe that maybe… maybe one day… you’ll be fine and it will be over. But then…” her voice broke as the lump in her throat grew, making it harder for Steph to bring the words forth, but she had to do this. Digging her fingers on her knees under the table, she wetted her lips and continued.

“Then you see something that belonged to them or heard their name or smell their scent and… Sometimes I believe that’s what time travel must be like because you’re there. Back at that place with them and it’s so sweet because you can feel how happy you used to be, but at the same time, God! It hurts. That kind of throbbing, pulsing pain. All compassing and consuming. Suddenly, it’s all you know again, and you can’t believe how you thought, even for a second, that it wouldn’t hurt anymore. Because it’s a piece of you that’s missing and it’s the most human thing to want to feel complete, but you can’t. Not anymore. Not without him.”

Steph let out a shuddering exhale, ducking her head to wipe away the tears that managed to escape while she swallowed around the knot on her throat before she turned to look at Katheryn and the other woman had tear tracks marking her cheeks as she watched Steph.

“Is that what you mean?”

“Yes,” Katheryn nodded, a smile gracing her lips as she reached across the table, catching Steph’s hand and squeezing lightly. “You understand. I think you understand Sarah better than I could ever hope to write her. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you’re exactly what I need.”

“Thank you.” Steph’s lips tilted into a smile too. Katheryn had a point. She never felt this connected to a character before.

“We’ll start shooting in Toronto in two weeks. Think you can be ready by then?”

“Yes.” Steph nodded, satisfaction and happiness filling her heart. “I’ll be there.”

----

Steph never had an experience quite like this shooting a movie, but she loved it. Jean wasn’t kidding when he said it was a low budget independent movie. Katheryn crew was tiny and the entire thing was shot in a single location, this two-store house in Toronto, using one single camera.

All of it meant long hours of shooting, especially since Katheryn liked wide angles and long takes so Steph felt this incredible pressure not to screw up. She was the protagonist. The entire concept of the movie depended on her doing her job right.

In the end, it was an incredible thing. After a month of working intensely and living in close quarters with the rest of the cast and crew, Steph grew close with all of them. She knew the names and birthdays of the DP’s children and all the cameraman allergies… They had become a second family to her and when they finally wrapped up filming, even though Steph was exhausted and in desperate need for long hours of sleep, she accompanied them to this local club so they could celebrate.

It wasn’t an official wrap party, then didn’t have the funds for that. Just a bunch of friends trying to find a way to fit at a too-small table in an overcrowded club with overpriced beer and some nice rock tunes.

Basically, it was all Steph needed after the dreadful year she was having. No one could blame her for letting lose, drinking a tiny bit too much – not quite like the night with Jean, Vincent, and Keanu – but just enough to make her tipsy and overfriendly, hugging people left and right, much to Katheryn’s amusement.  

She danced to the music played by the band on the stage and even agreed to a couple of selfies from one or two people that recognized her, before retreating to the table, tired, sweaty and dizzy, but very happy.

“When we back to LA, we need to do this in a proper bar,” she commented to Katheryn, who had kept up with her the entire night and the older woman laughed and nodded, clinking her beer bottle against Steph’s.

She drained her beer, before getting to her feet again and stumbling towards the restroom, getting stuck in line for ten minutes, until she could finally step out of the warm, smoky bar, into the slightly cooler air of the restroom, which was a reprieve despite the faint smell of urine and disinfectant.

Steph took her time relieving herself, washing her hands and retouching her makeup, faintly hearing the muffled sounds of the new band presenting themselves before they started to play. She bobbed her head a bit at the very little she could hear while she applied another layer of lipstick and stepped out just as they finished the first song.

She didn’t know why she didn’t glance at the stage on her way to the bar to pick up a new beer, even if the first accords of the new song was so pleasing. She was happy she didn’t because when a familiar voice reached her ears, one that Steph never thought she would hear in a million years, she froze, beer bottle halfway to her lips, eyes wide, staring at nothing.

She didn’t know the song itself, but she had heard enough Dogstar before the entire mess with Keanu that Steph could recognize Brett’s voice. Shaking, she turned around to face the stage, her gaze instinctively finding Keanu and her breath caught in her throat as she watched him.

His hair was longer again, curling by his nape, sticking to his sweaty forehead. His jaw was covered with a spotty beard that shouldn’t look that charming. His broad shoulders ripped and moved as he played, making the black t-shirt he was wearing stretch over his strong chest and biceps. His jeans, as usual, were tighter than needed, displaying muscular legs and, if his red bass wasn’t positioned right in front of his crotch, Steph knew she would be able to see the generous volume of his cock too.

Somehow she much had forgotten how gorgeous he was because Steph couldn’t bear to look away from him as her heart rabbited in her chest as if trying to burst from her ribcage and butterflies fluttered in her stomach, especially when he joined on the back vocal, his voice barely audible, but enough to make her knees weak.

She leaned against the bar, gaze fixed on the band in front of her, completely oblivious to Katheryn approaching her, calling her name. Not until the woman shook her shoulder and Steph finally tore her eyes away, blinking away the wetness in them. Katheryn looked confused for a moment before realization dawned on her and she glanced back at the stage.

“It’s him?” she asked, and Steph nodded, holding her bottom lip between her teeth to keep it from quivering. “Which one?”

“The bassist,” she whispered, eyes returning to him, watching the wide smile in his face, the one she had only seen when he was on his bike or with her.

“Do you want to leave?”

“No,” Steph gasped, once again unable to take her eyes away from him. “I’ve always wanted to watch him play.”

Katheryn nodded, squeezing her arm gently before retreating to the table, leaving Steph alone to watch the band, but mostly Keanu. The way he bounced over the stage, grinning like a manic, playing around with his mates and some of the audience. He was a natural, completely in his element, like he was born to be there and Steph was so happy he had found a way to make this work.

At the end of their set, Dogstar thanked everyone and announced that they had CDs for sale in the back before disappearing into the bowels of the club. Part of Steph was sad that it was over. She could spend the entire day listening to them, so she located the table with the merchandising, grabbing a CD and a t-shirt, before stepping outside for some fresh air and to recompose herself.

It was one thing Katheryn to see her like this, shaking and troubled. She knew the entire story, but the rest of the cast and crew only knew bits and pieces. Not because she was ashamed, but because it was still too hard to talk about it.

Steph exhaled slowly, the cold air grounding her to the present, keeping her from getting lost into memories of Keanu. And as long as she was grounded and kept a level head, she could stop herself from seeking him out. He didn’t want to see her. He made that very clear in that hotel in Paris.

“Steph?” She shivered at the sound of his voice saying her name. She missed that. She missed him. So, so much.

Slowly, Steph turned to look at him, her hands shaking so much the plastic case of the CD rattled a little. There he was, tall and strong and perfect and she couldn’t help but think about the title of the movie she just finished shoot: Saudade. That was what she felt, her insides yearning for that lost piece of her and she wished there was a way to tell him.

“Hi Keanu,” she said instead. What else could she say when there were so much, but not enough words?

xxx (tbc) xxx

Go to chapter 10

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[weirdcultstuff]

Unrelatable Ex-Amish Feelings

Just a note: The specific group I grew up in was an extreme group, with a cult leader. I tried my best not to include things that I think might be specific to the cult I was in, but I can only write from my own experiences, so some of this might not be universal to all leaving-amish experiences. :)

1. Despising Beverly Lewis books. Despising that TLC ‘Breaking Amish’ show. And if I hear one more time about ‘the amish mafia’ I swear I’m throwing something.

2. Seeing strangers with head-coverings or large families and no longer getting that instant mutual bond, because you are out of context to them now.

3. Rolling your eyes at the ‘Amish Made!’ signs.

4. The cognitive dissonance overload.

5. Critical thinking skills? Who is that?

6. Not having an identity as an individual.

7. (If you’re a girl) working caretaking and cleaning jobs. (If you’re a guy) farming, landscaping, and construction.

8. *I’M GOING TO HELL! I’M GOING TO HELL! I’M GOING TO-*

9. Going P.I.M.O. with your also shunned family, because they’ve joined another group that you don’t want to be in either.

10. Purity culture hangover, can’t make eye contact!!

11. Saying “Mr.”, “Mrs.”, “Professor”, “Dr.”, etc. feels like a direct insult instead of being respectful.

12. Not being able to say “Ich liebe die” to friends because it sounds so much more real and serious than “I love you.” In fact, having tons of language confusion and general work to do on your English.

13. *They’re English, they wouldn’t understand how Amish do anyway.*

14. Just. Not being able to explain anything. Ever. It feels like living in two completely different realms of existence, having been amish and not-amish.

15. The shame of buying something at an amish place and being recognized, and offered the things for free since amish don’t do business with shunned amish.

16. People thinking they understand amish culture because they “grew up around baptists.” Like, I guess?? I understand what you mean? But also no.

17. Despising almost any depiction of the amish in mainstream media, and not being able to articulate how it’s all such skewed perspective, and not knowing how to communicate things properly or make it better. Frustrating!!!!

18. Fighting not to have that Penn Dutch accent and thinking it makes you sound dumb.

19. Being the only kid at your college who knows how to clean and cook and sew and keep house.

20. Missing the cows. Missing the garden. Missing making hay. Missing your friends. Missing your family. Missing taking care of babies. Missing working with people who genuinely like to work. Missing tomato sandwiches. Missing the singing. Missing, missing, missing. Parts of you are missing.

21. Freaking out about every possible aspect of clothes and what to wear.

22. (If you’re a girl) panic attacks about giving presentations in school because *women must be silent, and shouldn’t teach men, and business casual means you can’t even cover your head and who is even giving me the authority to do this?*

23. Not knowing how a parking meter, or a vending machine, or maybe an online bank account works and having to ask for help and just feeling so, so, so small and stupid.

24. Being 100% completely clueless about LGBTQ+ terminology or issues, and accidentally coming off as homophobic.

25. Realizing you accidentally came off as homophobic (or sexist, or racist, or ableist, etc.) after learning more words and stuff, and feeling really worried and ashamed about it.

26. Boundaries? What are boundaries?

27. *What do I do with my hair? I don’t look normal.*

28. Not understanding computers. Even after learning how to use computers, not understanding things intuitively like all the other kids who grew up with them.

29. Getting real freakin’ excited about how easy life becomes with electric washing machines and cars and electric heaters.

30. Getting in abusive relationships and getting taken advantage of because you have no idea what a healthy relationship looks like.

31. Feeling alone. Like you’re the only one doing this.

32. Wanting to go back. Missing home, and familiarity, so much.

33. Feeling nostalgic about the good old days when you had any kind of idea of what was going on ever.

34. Missing 100% of pop-culture references.

35. The internalized sexism. (If you’re a girl) just automatically deferring to any men in the vicinity.

36. Wearing clothes that are too big. In muted colors. Without many prints. And feeling very self-conscious about it all. Hoping you don’t run into any amish people in public because they’ll see from your clothes how far you’ve backslid, how much sin you’re living in.

37. Not knowing how the government works. Or voting. Or welfare.

38. Automatically denying and defending any abuse that happened, because *amish are right and the church is right and talking about abuse with english people is only going to prevent them from seeing the truth and the light.*

39. Bristling when people treat you like your life previous to shunning just didn’t matter or didn’t really happen. Newsflash, world, people who have lived lives different from yours still spend all of their lives in ‘the real world’ same as you.

40. *If I just married an amish man, or even a mennonite, this would all go away. Things would make sense again.*

41. What is evolution? What is anything? Is God real?

42. *If I picked the wrong way, and I know I picked the wrong way, then I’m going to hell. I’m going to hell. I’m going to hell. I’m going to-*

43. *I’m being taken captive by strange philosophy. I’m being taken captive by the world. I’m being given over to a reprobate mind for the destruction of the flesh. I’m too far in, I can’t see what’s right or good anymore. I’m going to hell.*

44. Hey, look! You have a favorite color now.

45. “Guys, I’m not Amish. There is not an Amish person alive who would say that I’m Amish. Stop calling me Amish.” *I’m also not ‘english’ though.*

46. *I’m a bad witness. I’m living a sinful life. I’m shaming my family.*

47. Not trusting the government. Not trusting the school system. Not trusting the healthcare system. Not trusting anyone who isn’t amish, not really.

48. Finding out there’s more kinds of ‘english’ music than rock music.

49. Meeting people who have never heard of the amish and just....not being able to compute that.

50. Collecting kitsch. Just ‘cause you can.

51. Switching back and forth from wanting LOTS OF FLAVORS AND COLORS AND LIGHTS AND FABRICS AND MUSIC AND WORDS AND VIDEOS AND BOOKS AND- and wanting to just sit in a dark room with the lights low, doing mending or something normal because it’s all just overload and it’s making your head spin.

52. Amish people invalidating your experience. Non-Amish people invalidating your experience. *Nobody understands, I’m all alone, everyone thinks I’m crazy.*

53. Instinctive fear and disgust towards halloween things. This is what worldliness is, this is all demonic. None of it looks cute. Except that baby dressed up like a hot dog, she’s so cute.

54. Not understanding how non-amish people view animals and pets as practically members of the family instead of mildly interesting or useful outdoor things. Then missing your siblings so much and being so touch starved that when you’re at a friends’ house and their cat sits on your lap you feel positively glowing and warm inside, and you finally ‘get it.’

55. *What church do I go to? Am I mennonite now? Am I baptist? Am I Christian? I have to be a Christian, obviously. Where do I belong? Who do I belong to?*

56. Not understanding equality, even if you think it’s right.

57. Doing ANYTHING your boss tells you to, being a massive pushover until you slowly learn the difference between aggression and standing up for yourself, and then learn how to actually stand up for yourself.

58. People assuming you’re stupid because you don’t know stuff they learned in grade school. You assuming other people are stupid because nobody taught them the stuff you learned as a kid.

59. The moment when you realize that you actually have a lot to give up now, if you go back. And you actually have an identity, you’re a person. Kinda glitchy and buried under a mountain of trauma, but you’re a person.

60. Finding therapy. Finding friends. Finding the internet. Finding other people who have been through hard things too and connecting with them over the things you have in common and your shared support for each other in the things you don’t. Healing, growing. Coming to a point where things feel possible.

It’s a wild ride. But it’s worth it. Hang in there, friendo. <3

[svtskneecaps]

i’ve been enabled

here’s the sitch on the goddamn harry potter hogwarts mystery app game

it fucking sucks

here’s my main issues in a handy list i’ll go down later:

the gameplay

energy

art / visuals

the story

the writing

the choose your own adventure like elements (technically gameplay since there isn’t much else l m a o)

and i have receipts for most of this stuff. fun fact, i’ve been taking videos of all plot relevant events since year 1.

some context:

i’ve played up to year 3 myself. i have watched up until the very beginning of year 5 in someone’s youtube series (will bits? that was his main character [henceforth referred to as MC]’s name, however that was a year ago and it was in the background like a podcast so the details are sort of fuzzy. i have not played the game since march (it’s september, ish), but i’m loading it up as i type this just to get a feel for it

idk whether to assume my audience has or hasn’t played the game. i’ll keep my complaints as clear as possible.

i’m mainly an author so the storytelling sections are where i’m really going to pop off, since that’s something i have the most experience with and passion in, but i’ll be touching on everything else because compounded it’s all pissing me off lmao

[a couple hints at spoilers for maybe an event in year 1, and year 3, but nothing major]

let’s start with: THE GAMEPLAY

there isn’t any

literally. there’s like. zero gameplay.

you tap some highlighted figures, and then sometimes you get to trace a little shape, and sometimes you get to play rock paper scissors to fight somebody (they did manage to make duelling slightly better but it’s still not good by any standard)

sometimes you get to choose between three dialogue options, but those have barely any impact on the story or on your character. any impact they have is limited to a couple stat points, or maybe some house points, or like. some event at the end of the year. but like barely any make any real serious difference (but i’ll touch on that more later)

and then there’s the factor of stat points (and this gets kind of mathy, so feel free to skip to the bolded sentence)

for those who haven’t played the game, you have three stats (empathy, courage, and knowledge) that you can level up by taking classes, 1, 3, or 8 hours, for various rewards

back when i stopped playing, i had gained 8914 points in courage. if i recall correctly i was only about halfway to leveling up that stat. if you take an 8 hour class, you receive consistently 200 stat points, with a possibility of extra rewards that i can’t count for since those are randomly generated.

to get those 8914 points, i would have had to take 44.57 8 hour classes (while 8 hour they only take about 7, counting for the 2 hours it takes my energy to recharge to full). with 44.57 classes taking 7 hours each, to get halfway to level 24, i would have had to have done:

THIRTEEN STRAIGHT DAYS OF GRINDING, ASSUMING THAT ALL I HAD BEEN DOING WAS CHECKING ON THE HARRY POTTER HOGWARTS MYSTERY APP

and again, I WAS ONLY LIKE HALFWAY TO LEVELLING UP

I AM BARELY BEGINNING FOURTH YEAR. I AM NOT EVEN HALFWAY THROUGH THIS GAME.

i think they’ve fixed this now; it said i had 8914/1550 courage and when i got stat points it fixed itself and jumped me from level 23 to 28, so thanks for that jam city.

but it doesn’t change the fact that the grinding is fucking horrible and i’ve done my fair share of hours, and who knows what it’s going to look like when i get to a higher level again

the energy

yes, i know it’s an app game. i know they want my money. but holy FUCK the energy recharges disgustingly slowly, and every bit they expand my energy bar is an insult

“here, have another energy capacity!” they say, and then add to the amount of energy it takes to complete a task at the same time, so now shit just takes me even damn longer

it’s an insult. don’t think i didn’t fuckin notice jam city.

since it’s an app game, naturally, energy requires paying real world money or the (semi) rare in-game currency to get more if you blow through your bar. they want your money. i know they want my money, but it doesn’t make me any less disappointed by how damn blatant they’re being. app games like bakery story probably also want my money, but at least those are still fun to play.

the art / visuals

now i’m not an artist. nor am i a 3-d modeller. but if solo indie devs and 10 men teams can make video games that have to have models with a much fuller range of motion (since there’s ACTUAL GAMEPLAY and not just little cutscenes of characters moving around) and that don’t make me sick to watch, then jam city working on a HARRY POTTER GAME should be able to (jk rowling fucking sucks but her books have brought in so much goddamn money that they can afford to pay their devs enough to make the game look good; in this case i’m not entirely sure where the blame lies)

there’s like. 10 motions characters can use while in the cutscenes and talking. like 10. and i can recognize every one of them, and there is not a single motion unique to a character. the characters are something i’ll touch on later in the storytelling sections, though. just, please god give them SOMETHING even SLIGHTLY different. like make two versions of a couple of the crowd animations at LEAST, so that when people celebrate at the end of the year there’s not twenty people in the shot doing the same “pump my fists in the air in celebration” motion at the exact same time. PLEASE.

sometimes animations in story events and classes sync up too, which is. beyond distracting. like it’s completely immersion breaking and i mean please, please jam city, if you haven’t fixed that please fix it. please.

the animations that roll in flying class are fun, ONCE. when you’ve seen them eight hundred thousand times because you’re grinding up your courage stat, they get hella boring. all of the classes are like this to some extent but flying is the biggest offender since those were the longest animations. if they haven’t implemented a skip button since i last played it, they should. they fuckin should.

also the fertilizer animation in the greenhouse scenes is gross. you pick up a deformed cone of dirt with your shovel like a slice of cake and then shove it clipping through the edges of a pot, where it disappears without a trace. i hate it. jam city please make the game look good.

if you still play the game please tell me it looks better; i’ll be playing through a couple things after i post this but it’s hphm. it’s gonna take me a goddamn long time to hit all the points and confirm whether what i complained about has been fixed or not

also also, wearing dresses is so distracting, especially while dueling. the way the dress flexes around your legs is like you’re wearing clothing made from jello and when my character does the idle animation her hands clip through her skirt, and there’s all kids of glitches with hair where it clips through outfits (and why in the fuck do the necklaces float a full foot from the character’s body)

the storytelling

alright there’s a lot to cover so strap in

i’m not mad about the story having some of the same beats as harry potter. whatever, right? if it worked, it worked. having a big climax at the end of the year just works well for storytelling. having a school bully antagonist also works well for easy storytelling (it’s kinda cheap, but whatever works, right?) it’s what you DO with the archetypes you use that makes or breaks your story

jam city broke it

i don’t know how to organize my thoughts so here’s a bulleted list

it is very clearly obvious they wrote this as they went along (ex. a previously unseen character pops up in year 3 and was supposedly the best friend of your greatest enemy in previous years) and didn’t think to fix the plot holes

there’s too many goddamn characters (i love them, but with a big cast comes a whole host of problems [I WRITE FOR A KPOP GROUP WITH 13 MEMBERS, I HAVE A LOT OF EXPERIENCE WITH THAT], and we’ll get there)

there’s too much goddamn filler for the sake of forcing us to spend time and in-game energy (yes i KNOW it’s an app game and they want our money but THEY COULD BE A LITTLE MORE SUBTLE ABOUT IT)

what honestly pisses me off the most about it is that IT COULD BE GOOD

IF THE STORY WERE GOOD, I WOULD FUCKIN IGNORE ALL OF THAT OTHER SHIT

but it’s not, and here’s the biggest gripe i have:

none of the choices you make matter. none of them. to the point where it’s immersion breaking at BEST

for example, while my MC is a hufflepuff, i know a lot of people play in slytherin. scenes where snape gets upset with your character and takes away house points no longer make sense for a slytherin MC, because snape would be infinitely more likely to give you three years of nightly detentions, or pitch you off the astronomy tower, than he would be to take house points from slytherin

honestly, they should have waited. if they wanted to put choose your own adventure elements into the game, they should have planned out every single one of those story arcs in detail, and THEN released the game. they could leave some of the more basic choices in and those choices only mattering for short term effects wouldn’t irk me as much as it does right now because THERE WOULD BE CHOICES THAT MADE A DIFFERENCE.

your very first choice over how you felt about your brother’s disappearance only matters for what wand you get (which i immediately forgot which really says something about the impact of that choice :)))) ). no matter what you pick, you still end up chasing after him for the rest of the game, so who cares?

story beats don’t land different based on your house. you could absolutely play it that merula hates you regardless of your house, that’s fine. just remember that if your MC is slytherin and lives in the female dorms, she probably shares a room with merula. which makes things fucky for all kinds of reasons, none of which jam city addresses in the current game, as far as i’m aware

also, there’s the deal with rowan

rowan is a character that goes into your mc’s chosen house no matter what (and as rowan changes pronouns with your player, i’ll be using “they” [or “she” as my player is a she and that’s what i’m used to; i’ll try to refrain but i might slip up occasionally] ). as far as i can tell, rowan’s personality remains the same no matter what house you’re in. they don’t try to play up the traits that match the house, rowan is just usually a sweet bookworm. why would the hat have put them in gryffindor? rowan khanna for me has never seemed to display any gryffindorish traits; or at the very least, no traits that should be prioritized over, say, the ravenclaw traits they have VERY STRONGLY (since rowan fills a sort of hermione role; rowan knows things about things and is your go to for research)

can we just put rowan in ravenclaw? sure, it would make it hard for fans in different houses to communicate between each other about the story for a time since certain sequences of events would play out differently, but here’s the thing:

if events play out differently based on your choices, people will want to play your game multiple times to get every ending

that’s the fun of a choose your own adventure game. if events play out distinctly differently if you’re a hufflepuff or a ravenclaw or a slytherin or a gryffindor, then people will want to play through the game four times at LEAST, once for each house, to get all the fun pieces of story (WHICH MEANS, they’ll be spending more and more time and using more and more energy, so you can make the same amount of money off people buying energy and watching the ads and maybe MORE while being able to cut out some of the more shitty pieces of filler)

in the current version, your house is just, what color are your robes and who is your prefect. i haven’t watched anyone who wasn’t a hufflepuff, but i’m sure that certain scenes and conflicts play out the exact same no matter what house you’re in

as an example, your house should affect how the duelling confrontation in year one should have gone. snape and flitwick should have different dialogue based on whether you’re a slytherin, or a ravenclaw, or a gryffindor, or a hufflepuff. snape fucking hates gryffindors, so he should be far less lenient against gryffindors, and on the flip side he should be battling between himself with how strict to be if you’re a slytherin; maybe he hates your guts because of a grudge against your brother, but you’re still in his house and we all know snape plays favorites. flitwick should be more disappointed if you’re a ravenclaw, because that’s his house and he had higher expectations for you. neither of them have many ties to hufflepuff that would skew the confrontation in a drastic direction, but had this been the first version of the game, then the confrontation that plays out in the current version we have would work fine for hufflepuff; you’re one of flitwick’s favorite charms students and he taught you this skill, and he’s disappointed to see you use it in this way, but not nearly as much as if you were one of his own

AND NOW PEOPLE WANT TO PLAY THE GAME MULTIPLE TIMES TO GET ALL THE DIALOGUE, WHICH MEANS MORE TIME, MORE ENERGY, AND MORE MONEY, JAM CITY, ARE YOU HEARING THIS??? MORE MONEY!!!!! IT’S A WIN WIN FOR EVERYONE

while we’re at it, change jacob to match his house. if you’re still gonna make him have the same house as the MC, make him match it. from how all the characters describe him that bitch is as slytherin as they come, if you’re gonna make him a hufflepuff with me then give him a clear, hufflepuff motive god damnit

finally,

the characters

there’s too many.

the problem with a big cast is no one gets enough screen time and some characters end up getting shunted to the side. that’s just what happens. you HAVE to zero in on four or five side friends and let the rest of them slip to the side. looking at my friends menu there are 17 characters you can befriend, not including hagrid, the quidditch crew, dobby, talbott, and chiara (since those are, as far as i know, unlocked via side quests, which are... fine. i don’t have any particular gripes about the side quests except for the thing with lupin being twice the size of tonks which, if you’ve read the seventh book i don’t need to explain how weird that is to you)

and BECAUSE there are so many, a lot of them have to be defined by one trait. ben is a coward, rowan’s clever and booksmart, penny has her hand on the school’s pulse and makes potions, liz likes creatures, charlie fuckin loves dragons, tonks likes pranks (seriously that’s her whole personality), andre likes clothes, barnaby is a dumb jock that likes creatures

like, traits are fun. but if that’s ALL THEY HAVE, that’s when things get a little fucky

how many of these characters have dimensions? i’m in year 4 chapter 4. the first screen recording of the game i took was on december 5 of 2019, and assuming i played about a minimum of 8 hours a day (”““played”““) until the final screen recording [may 20, 2020] before i dropped the game for about six months (i know for certain it was more than that, since i had some kind of activity going on at just about all times for at least a month of that, but i’ll take the generous estimate), at bare minimum that makes 1344 hours i spent playing this game, or about 56 days (keep in mind, this is a LOW estimate)

in those 56 days of gameplay, i don’t know ANYTHING about the characters other than their utility in my quest. i don’t know penny’s favorite color or even her favorite potion to brew, or how and why she started and when [there’s a reveal in third year that i watched someone play through, but i don’t know if i ever played through it myself; i don’t have any screen recordings of the event]. i don’t know anything about ben or his family aside from the fact that he’s muggleborn. i know some basic facts about barnaby’s family, and that he’s tough and likes creatures. rowan grew up on a tree farm and i have a vague recollection of her mentioning siblings. do we know anything about them?? do i know anything about how the characters interact with each other?? are barnaby and liz friends? they both like creatures. do they talk to charlie?? do ben and penny hang out while we’re not there? are ben and jae friends?? are jae and charlie??? DO THESE CHARACTERS EXIST WHEN THEY AREN’T NEEDED FOR THE CURSED VAULTS???

why in the fuck don’t i know these characters?? why don’t we know anything about tonks other than her affinity for pranking?? there’s a sharp bias in who the writer’s favorites are (they like the characters with angsty pasts they can twist around; what do we know about ben aside from his blood status? and he’s been around since first year; he’s the second friend you unlock. i know more about barnaby and i’ve known him for a much shorter time)

if you separate the routes, you get a chance to zero in on certain characters and actually develop them. if you’re a gryffindor, you befriend ben, charlie, and jae much more quickly and they make up the closest of your friends, along with rowan, if jam city is determined to keep their tutorial character constant across all plotlines (i still think rowan should be solely a ravenclaw, but i’ll allow rowan’s house to change so long as their personality shifts to emphasize certain qualities in order to match the change in house; your house should not just determine the color your robes are)

if you’re in slytherin, maybe you befriend barnaby in place of ben in the original game, or maybe there’s an arc where you clash heads with merula (who can still be an enemy even if you’re both in slytherin; merula doesn’t like competition and the MC is exactly that) and the rest of the slytherins in your year find themselves caught in the middle; maybe there’s an arc where your MC finds themself totally alone without allies due to the conflict between them and merula (might i suggest year two, while coming up on the climax of the year?)

hufflepuffs get to focus on tonks and penny much closer. ben can also be in this plotline, but he shouldn’t take center stage (characters should cross over plotlines, but only take center stage in one, aside from perhaps rowan if rowan remains constant). maybe chiara can get implemented into the main plotline to fill out the roster, and if not, diego caplan can get implemented earlier (i haven’t met him yet and know nothing about his character)

and ravenclaws get the ravenclaw characters BUT YOU GET THE POINT, i don’t want to bore anyone by repeating myself; this is long enough as is

what i’m saying is, these characters all have a different enough base that each route will be different just by focusing on different characters; ben and jae will respond to a situation much differently than penny and tonks might, which would ALREADY shake up the storyline of each house based on which house you choose in the beginning, and then characters overlap plotlines so you could leave hints in each route to the other characters’ unique backstories and motivations that leaves the player wanting to get to know the rest of your WELL DEVELOPED CAST (((MAKE SURE THEY’RE WELL DEVELOPED OR THIS WILL NOT WORK)))

WHAT I’M SAYING IS, THIS GAME COULD HAVE BEEN SO GOOD

if they put more effort into the story then maybe i would have gunned through the hufflepuff route so quickly and then restarted to go through all the rest of them. if you want people playing your game for longer then THAT is the way to go

yes, it will take time. yes, it will take effort. but you know what?

IT’LL ALSO MAKE YOU A FUCKTON OF MONEY FROM PLAYERS PLAYING EACH ROUTE IN FULL AND THEN PLAYING THEIR FAVORITE ROUTES AGAIN SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR

anyway, what i’m saying is, i hate this game so much because of the potential it had to succeed, and the potential it had to be a really good game. even if they didn’t change the gameplay much, even if they didn’t change the models, i could get past ALL OF THAT if the story was interesting

so uh. jam city, if you’re reading this, please. i will let you take away all of my days of playing this. i will let you render all of my progress obsolete and send me plummeting back into my first year at hogwarts to go through the game again, if you JUST, MAKE, MULTIPLE, ROUTES!!! MAKE MY CHOICES MATTER DAMN YOU!!!!!!!!

i’m also willing to let you use the ideas i posited here without credit or payment. because that sounds like a legal hassle and i am far too lazy to deal with that sort of thing, i just want to play a good game. please. please give me a good game to play.

also, make energy take 3 minutes to recharge. please.

so uh

TL;DR : i hate this game. and i wish i didn’t hate this game.

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 1.3.8 “Death Of A Horse”

Lots of reference research and then Angry Feelings About Tholomyes in this one.

The facade is starting to crumble. Tholomyes has just kissed Favourite instead of Fantine. He’s drunk and even his friends want him to shut up. And now Zephine is complaining that she likes the food at Edon’s better than Bombarda’s.

Blacheville points out the mirrors on the walls, and there’s some wordplay there with Favourite re: “glace” for looking glass and ice creams. This also sounds like Favourite deliberately defying Tholomyes’ earlier rant about not eating sugar.

Tholomyes has a weird moment, he seems maybe about to get maudlin. “Silver is more precious than bone,” says Blacheville, to which Tholomyes replies “Except when it’s on the chin.” I may be reading this wrong, or backwards, but this sounds like a brief insecurity about aging. (Also I imagine the fact that he’s staring out at the dome of the Invalides is significant, but I don’t know why.)

“A discussion is good, a quarrel is better” is really just an excellent summary of what kind of “devil’s advocate” type douchebag Tholomyes is. (It’s also interesting that at no point does he “discuss,” “debate,” or “quarrel” with any of them. He has the floor and he monologues, there’s never any real back and forth with him.)

Tholomyes is pretty drunk at this point, so I’m really not sure if this following dialogue is him being mocking or him fully dismissing philosophy altogether in favor of theatre. I’m inclined to assume it’s the second, considering his earlier comments about preferring theatre. Descartes and Spinoza are, obviously, philosophers, but Desaugiers was a composer of operas and comedies, as well as the manager of the Vaudeville from 1815 until 1820. Either way, Tholomyes is pretty blatantly saying here that he doesn’t much care for philosophy.

He’s kind of the anti-Amis here, professing essentially that he doesn’t like Serious Thinking and would rather be entertained by theatre or by grisettes than think about anything substantial. His improvising is mostly empty, crappy advice where he criticizes women and gives bad dating opinions (compare with Grantaire’s improv which is mostly good social/political critique with dashes of obnoxiousness). His “wisdom” is comprised of the 19th century version of sexist pricks saying a bunch of stupid shit and then wondering why women don’t like “nice guys like him.”

More going on about contradictions, only this time seriously, rather than in the form of punnery. Life is about contradictions and irrationality, according to Tholomyes. He’s trying to be all science-y, but then he just goes back to talking about food. He goes on about how the wine they’re drinking is from a higher altitude, but it’s cheap. (Interesting that so far all of his improvised speeches have either been about women or food/drink.)

Fameuil gets a little barb in, though. He asks Tholomyes who his favorite writer is. Arnaud Berquin (which is Fameuil’s guess) was a French children’s author in the mid to late 1700s, so basically Fameuil is calling Tholomyes childish and maybe a little stupid. Berchoux (Tholomyes’ answer) was a comedic poet who invented the word “gastronomy.”

Everything with Tholomyes comes back to the sensual pleasures. Food and sex and theatre and gratification without having to actually reciprocate. This is drastically different from nearly every other character that we see. Most of them are incredibly poor and have barely any access to things necessary for survival, much less pleasure. Or, like Valjean or Javert, deny themselves sensual pleasures for various reasons. (Valjean out of piety and guilt, Javert for control, except for his little pinch of tobacco.) Tholomyes just cares about his own pleasure (but not his own personal wellbeing, considering Hugo says he’s “in poor shape” and basically physically gross) and whatever manipulation or money or schmoozing it takes to get it.

And a sudden barrage of references! Thargelia was a famous ancient Greek courtesan/hetaera who was very powerful and full of wit and had connections to Persian royalty. Hugo seems to have masculinized the name and imagined what that version would be like. I cannot find anything on Munophis of Elephanta; I’m guessing Hugo has butchered the spelling enough that whatever it is has become impossible to figure out, or he was talking out his ass. Apuleius wrote Metamorphosis, which had a lot of commentary on cultural/social life of the time; also Apuleius was part of the Dionysian cult. He quotes Solomon in Ecclesiastes (there is nothing new under the sun) and then pronounces that love is the same (quoting Virgil), there is nothing new there, either. From what I can understand by skimming that section in Georgics, that part of Virgil is about animal husbandry and is specifically talking about horny animals and how they’re going to want to mate no matter what. He’s basically saying that all men are horny and that‘s not going to change, and that they’re going to care more about sex than romance and always have. As far as I can tell, “carabine/carabin” is referencing a sex worker who caters to “carabin” aka medical students, although I’m not sure why the barge at Saint Cloud? Aspasia was the lover of Pericles; some sources depict her as a prostitute. She was foreign, so she actually had more rights than native Greek women, and she was very beautiful and very smart and witty.

Basically, Tholomyes is being a slimy bastard and saying men don’t want romance and women are there to keep men entertained and their dicks wet, and if they’re smart/witty as well as a good lay, that’s even better (perhaps a backhanded compliment for Favourite here? Since she’s supposed to be the “clever one”). Asshole. God, I hate him.

I know most people seem to say that Thenardier is the worst character in the Brick, the closest to a “bad guy” you can get in this book, but I think it’s actually Tholomyes. Thenardier, throughout the book, is awful, but most of his horrible actions are at least primarily fueled by desperation and a complete lack of access to, well, anything. Tholomyes, on the other hand, is the opposite of socially or financially desperate. He’s a rich, charismatic law student who thinks he’s hot shit. He manipulates and uses a girl 11 years younger than him, gets her pregnant, cheats on her, mocks her in front of his friends as well as her own friends (or the girls she thinks are her friends), never corrects her about the nature of their relationship, and then abandons her completely in a cruel prank. And if we’re interpreting this whole monologue right, it’s all for his own amusement. What a horrible, awful man.

The death of this poor weak horse feels like a foreshadowing, or at the very least a metaphor for the plight of poor women. Made to work hard, sacrifice themselves, starved, tired, and even when they’ve fallen either morally or literally, they’re blamed rather than helped, and then they die because no one ever tries to help them.

Tholomyes riffs on Francois de Malherbe in reaction to the death of the old horse. The Malherbe quote is from a letter of condolence to a colleague on the death of his daughter and says “But she bloomed on earth, where the most beautiful things have the saddest destiny; / And Rose, she lived as live the roses, for the space of a morning.” Tholomyes’ riff is (as best as I can do with google translate) “She was of this world where cuckoos [or cuckoo clocks?] and carriages have the same fate / And, nag, she lived as live the nags, in the space of a morning.”

Fantine gets her first spoken line here, sympathizing with the horse. Which, if this is foreshadowing as well as general commentary, is just so sad. Also, the fact that everyone else brushes off the horse’s death is interesting. If it is a metaphor, so is this brushing off. The grisettes are highly aware of their precarious position in life. One bad thing can send it all crashing down; but they expect it. They don’t sympathize or feel bad about it because they’ve seen it happen around them, they know it’ll happen to them one day too.

Favourite is the one who remembers the surprise. She’s been the only one of the girls actually talking about it. She’s the one who gets the dialogue asking for it and the one that keeps reminding the men about it. I don’t think she’s in cahoots with them about it or anything, but I wonder what she thinks is going on.

Also interesting that the “moment” that is suddenly right for this surprise has just been preceded by a downturn in mood at the shock of the dead horse. This horse has just dropped, and now the girls are waiting for yet another crushing emotional blow.

The fact that Tholomyes derails the kiss to a kiss on the forehead is definitely him trying to distance himself from Fantine. A kiss on the mouth would perhaps make her think he has feelings for her, that there’s any emotion involved in this at all. Plus he’s been cheating on her with Favourite. A kiss on the forehead is distant enough that it’s more emotionally “safe” for all of them, but especially Tholomyes, who really just wants out of this whole situation because he really doesn’t want to deal with a girl having feelings for him (or his child!) or pretty much anything that doesn’t have to do with his own pleasure. He’s just so manipulative and sleazy, I hate him.

The difference between Favourite’s reaction as they walk out the door and Fantine’s reaction is interesting to me because it seems to confirm just how oblivious Fantine really is. It’s not like she’s judging the others and thinks she’s in a Real Relationship, which is not like what the other girls have. She’s definitely not even remotely aware of the emotional status quo that everyone else recognizes. Favourite thinks it’s all good fun and games. Fantine seems to genuinely think that everyone else feels the same as she does about their affairs with the students. She seems to assume that she’s not the only one who’s in love. All the more shock for her in the next chapter, when the other girls are laughing and she’s devastated.

This whole thing is made all the worse with the fact that every single person involved in this affair is extremely aware of the difference between Fantine and everyone else. They talk about it to each other, and even to Fantine, who doesn’t seem to notice or get it. They probably giggle about her behind her back the entire time. They all know she’s in love with Tholomyes, and I assume they all know she also has a kid. They are perfectly aware of the difference between her and them. Which means all of the men are perfectly aware of how she’ll probably react to the “surprise” and what it might do to her socially. They don’t give a shit. They obviously think she’s a space case and a child and probably think she’s “no fun” compared to the other grisettes. So it doesn’t matter to them what happens to her; it doesn’t even matter to the other grisettes what happens to her, because they’re laughing at her too.

[korora12]

Ladybug Week Day 5 - AU

Day 4 Day 6

Word Count: 7169

“So what are we thinking?” Ser Schnee asked. “Long-lost aunt?”

Doubtful, Crescent Rose said, the spirit’s voice echoing in Ruby’s head. My ties to the Rose lineage aren’t what they used to be, but I don’t remember ever knowing this woman.

“Crescent Rose doesn’t think so,” Ruby repeated for the rest of the room’s sake.

The woman in question was presently lying unconscious in a guest bedroom in Beacon Castle, Ruby’s home, with the entirety of the Summer Rose Court gathered around her. She looked almost exactly like Ruby did, only aged by about a decade. Her style of dress was strange, though, unlike anything she’d ever seen someone wear. She wore no armor, but her cloak was made of a fabric so strong that nothing they did could tear or rend it, and yet Glynda assured them it wasn’t enchanted. Most bizarre of all, though, was her weapon. Ruby had thought it was no more than a poorly designed spear, but Nora had immediately recognized it as a weapon she’d called a gun. Though even she’d remarked on how it’s design was unlike any gun she’d seen before.

“Perhaps she’s traveled here from the future?” Penny suggested.

“Everything we know about how the world works says that would be impossible,” Glynda assured her. Yet, despite saying so, she was the only one not giving Penny a strange look for suggesting such a thing.

The woman began to stir. Her eyes blinked open; silver, Ruby noted, another point of familiarity. Her eyes traveled slowly around the room, still half-lidded and groggy. “Is this an intervention?” she muttered. “I swear I’ve been taking it easy on the cookies.” Then her gaze landed on Ruby, standing close to the bedside, and stopped moving. She blinked a few times, rubbed her eyes as if to clear the sleep from them, then suddenly shot upwards.

Weapons were drawn, but when the woman made no further movement beyond slowly raising her unarmed hands, Ruby ordered them to relax.

“I don’t suppose anyone could tell me where I am?”

“You’re in Beacon Castle,” Ruby answered, summoning as much royal authority as she could. “My home. A portal opened in my garden, and when we arrived, you were passed out on the ground. Care to explain who you are and where you came from?”

The woman met Ruby’s gaze unflinchingly. “My name is Ruby Rose.”

A soft “Oho!” came from Penny’s direction, but Ruby refused to break eye contact with the stranger.

“Would I be right to guess that your name is also Ruby Rose?” she continued.

Blake answered before Ruby could. “She is Rubilacxe Rose, Queen of Vale and Surrounding Territories. Attempting to impersonate her is a serious crime that could earn you the death sentence.” She had positioned herself on the opposite side of the bed, so that when the stranger faced Ruby, she had to turn away from Blake.

The impostor didn’t react to her presence, nor even turned around as she addressed her. “You must be Blake, then.” She made a wordless sound, more a whine than anything else, and flopped back down on the bed. “This is the last time we take a cleanup job from a mad scientist. I don’t care how well he pays.”

Looks of confusion were traded generously around the room until Weiss opted to pick up the trailing end of the, apparently two-way, interrogation. “You still haven’t answered the Queen’s question. Where are you from and why did you enter the Castle Grounds without permission?”

The impostor propped herself up with her arms, not quite sitting, but no longer laying either. Ruby noted that she was acting very casual and unconcerned, despite being surrounded by a dozen armed people currently holding her captive. “Does the name Eltanin mean anything to you?”

The name sounded very vaguely familiar to Ruby, but she couldn’t say why. Fortunately, Ozpin was there to save the day. “I believe there’s a small settlement far to the northwest, near the edge of the Kata territories, by that name.”

“Huh,” the impostor said. “Well, that’s not where I’m from. Me and my crew, we live on a ship called Crescent Rose; I’m it’s captain.” Crescent Rose bristled in her mind, indignant at sharing a name with a mere boat. “We pick up work here and there to get by; we’d taken a cleanup job for this scientist named Arthur Watts. One of his labs had been destroyed by an explosion, so we were supposed to cart the wreckage off to another location for him to rebuild. Of course, Watts is the kind of guy who thinks impossible is for people with less than three doctorates, so we probably shouldn’t have been handling anything there without radiation suits and ten-foot…” she cocked her head to the side. “What are those grabby things called that let you pick up stuff from far away? I’m blanking on their name right now. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, mistakes were made, is my point.” She hummed for a moment, staring off into space in thought. “The last thing I remember was finding a piece of Watt’s tech that looked to still be in one piece. Then everything went white and I woke up here.” She returned her gaze to meet Ruby’s. “Was there a small, black box nearby where you found me?”

“Nope,” Yang answered. She and Blake had been the only ones with her when they’d found the impostor. “Just you and your gun.” She pointed at Nora, who still maintained a firm grip on the weapon.

“You’re claiming to have been teleported into the castle grounds against your will?” Glynda asked. “That kind of magic is far beyond the work of any but the strongest of mages. Furthermore, we’ve already confirmed that you came from beyond this plane; you can’t claim otherwise.”

By which she means I confirmed it, Crescent Rose said.

The impostor shook her head. “Not magic, science. And I’m not just from another plane; I think I’m from another universe altogether.” She paused. “Erm, that might not be the best explanation. How should I put this?”

Ruby wasn’t following the explanation anymore. Firstly, magic was a part of the world that could be studied by science the same as anything else, but the impostor seemed to consider them separate things. Then she claimed to be from outside the plane of Vale, yet not from another plane? Was she claiming to be from the void between planes? Only spirits were supposed to be able to survive there.

Fortunately, Glynda seemed to be following better. “You’re referring to the multisystem theory?” she asked.

The impostor brightened. “Maybe? What is that?”

Glynda nodded. “It’s a mostly disregarded hypothesis that there could be other planar systems, or universes, beyond our own. With enough of these universes, you would expect to see some similarities or repetitions between them.”

“That’s close enough,” the impostor replied. “I’m not claiming to be the queen, but I am Ruby Rose. My crewmates are Blake Belladonna, Weiss Schnee, and Yang Xiao-Long, and if I ended up here, the others probably did too.”

Ruby shared looks with the three women in question. “There were three other portals opened at the same time as yours, but they were further away.”

“One of the portals opened inside the Curia,” Glynda added. “The wizards informed us that a crystalline golem came through it, which they’ve taken into custody for now. One of your friends?”

The impostor – no, the other Ruby – nodded. “That’s probably Weiss.”

Ser Schnee turned to leave the room. “A golem? I should like to see that. I’ll be taking the Knights Auffallend to the Curia, then. The wizards aren’t set up to hold prisoners for long. Your Majesty.” She bowed, then left.

“Right,” Ruby said, still trying to wrap her head around the situation. “We’ve already sent soldiers out to the other two locations, but we won’t hear back from them for a while. One portal opened in the western desert, and the other a bit closer, but to the south.”

“No offense to your soldiers,” the other Ruby said, finally sitting up properly and throwing her legs over the side of the bed towards Ruby. “But the moment my crewmates wake up they’re going to disappear. Especially Blake. If we want to find them, we’ll have to go ourselves.”

It was a refreshing change of pace to watch Blake sneak up on someone else for once. She moved with all the grace and stealth of a panther, every movement exact and silent, not even stirring the air as she placed the bone-white blade of her hand scythe against Ruby’s doppelganger’s neck beneath her cloak. Blake pressed against her back, mouth to her ear. “You’re still our prisoner. You don’t get to go anywhere without permission.”

Ruby’s counterpart didn’t even flinch, instead grinning mischievously. “Are you going to tie me to the bed, then, Blake? I hope you make the others leave before you have your way with me.”

Ruby tried to hide the blush that rose to her cheeks in response to the images her response conjured. Blake seemed equally distracted, which the other Ruby also noticed. In an instant their positions were switched, Blake pinned to the bed with the other Ruby’s arm at her neck. She was grinning as she taunted, “Unless you’d rather me be on top?”

Ruby grabbed her counterpart’s hood. “I might be able to accept that you’re some alternate version of me.” With a slight boost from Crescent Rose, she pulled hard enough to send her flying across the room. “But that doesn’t mean you get to flirt with my fiancée.”

The other Ruby stumbled, missed her step, and landed with a crash against the wall, sliding slowly to the ground. “Fiancée?” she muttered, sounding slightly dazed and looking like her worldview was in the middle of being redefined.

Ruby wondered, with everything that had happened today, if she had a similar look on her face.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Despite the potential risks involved, Ruby had ultimately decided to let this Captain Rose accompany them to the Southern Forest to investigate the opened portal. Her Majesty rode atop Celica, one of Yang’s sand dragons, sharing the saddle with their prisoner, who claimed to have never ridden a horse before. Jaune and Penny rode alongside the queen, with Blake taking up the rear. The rest of the court were either investigating the other portals or had remained in the castle.

Blake’s position gave her a good vantage point on the prisoner. The woman’s weapon had been returned to her and she now carried it slung loosely across her back. Ruby seemed to trust her, and they were heading into grimm territory, so it was best for everyone to be armed.

Blake still wasn’t sure about her story. The idea that she came from a different world with different physical laws, that nonetheless produced similar people, seemed completely bizarre. And yet, it would explain many of her strange traits. Her looks could be chalked up to coincidence, and knowledge about the court members was hardly a secret, but that wouldn’t explain her lack of reaction upon discovering Penny was a robot. Not to mention her aura, or lack thereof. Her soul was quiet, nearly impossible to feel. Even when they’d been on the bed together, close enough to share breath, Blake had barely felt a glimmer from the silver-eyed woman. Her lack of spiritual presence was unsettling, especially in light of her significant physical presence.

Which is to say that she was certainly cute enough to be Ruby.

Blake rode a bit closer, letting her keen ears drop eaves on the pair of lookalikes.

“How weird,” Ruby was saying. “A whole species of living crystals? It’s hard to imagine.”

Captain Rose shrugged. “Yeah, well, Weiss is still Weiss. You’ll see when you meet her.”

“Is that it, then? Two kingdoms of humans, Vale and Vacuo, plus faunus and materia?”

“There’s one more intelligent species,” the captain said. “The qedem are shapeshifters from the planet Mistral. Most of them can look human, but their natural form looks like a big lizard crossed with a bat.”

“Like a dragon?” Ruby asked.

“What’s a dragon?”

Ruby patted their mount. “Like this guy, but bigger and with wings.”

“They’re a little bulkier, but otherwise you’ve got the idea.” Captain Rose began waving her hands about, as if trying to paint a picture in the air. “They’ve got feathers and scales and can range in size from small dog to large horse. My world’s Ren, Nora, and Pyrrha are all qedem.”

The thought of Nora having the bulk and destructive capabilities of a dragon was a bit terrifying, Blake was unashamed to admit. She did her best to scrub the image from her mind, grateful that they wouldn’t be meeting any time soon.

“Oh,” the captain continued, “and I guess there’s proteans too; that’s what Yang is. Proteans are technically human, but one of their parents is a qedem who was in human form when… well, when they began.”

Blake tried to picture what that would look like. Would Yang be covered in feathers? Scales? Would she have wings growing out of her back? Or would both parents appearing human mean that she would look completely human too? The concept of heredity wasn’t very well understood, so Blake could only make guesses until she finally met her. If she even existed, she reminded herself.

“Your world sounds really strange,” Ruby said.

“Mine does?” Captain Rose sounded incredulous. “At least we don’t have spirits and magic portals.”

“Exactly!” Ruby exclaimed. “You have no magic! How do you manage to get anything done? Especially with the grimm everywhere.”

“Technology.” Captain Rose swung her weapon around her torso, pointing it at the forest ahead of them. “If we get the chance, I’ll show you what this bad boy can do.”

Ruby looked over the gun, a gleam visible in her eyes, even from the poor angle Blake sat at. “I look forward to it. Does he have a name?”

“A name?”

“Of course. A proper weapon deserves a proper name.”

“I used to name my weapons, but it made it harder to upgrade to new ones.” She didn’t name her weapons? How un-Ruby-like. “Now I just name ships. Does yours have a name, then?”

Ruby patted her glaive, where it was strapped to her mount’s side. “Yup. This is Little Thorn.”

Captain Rose chuckled. “Thorn, huh? The perfect weapon for a Rose. Mind if I borrow it?”

“Go right ahead,” Ruby offered.

The captain raised her weapon aloft. “Then from here on out you shall be known as Iron Thorn.” She lowered the weapon, adjusting the strap so it once again hung on her back. “He’s got a brother back home who I’ll call Bright Thorn.”

“You have to treat your weapons right,” Ruby lectured. “They’re like your children, but as long as you do right by them, they’ll never let you down.”

“I know something about that. Speaking of children,” Captain Rose said, changing the subject, “and their various prerequisites, you mentioned that you were engaged?” she briefly turned to meet Blake’s gaze, probably noting how close she’d ridden. Blake drew closer still.

“The wedding is scheduled to take place next week,” she said. “Your arrival has been interfering with the preparations.”

“Blake,” Ruby chastised, “please play nice.”

“So soon?” Captain Rose asked. “You two have known each other for a while, then?”

“A little over a year,” Ruby answered. “I would’ve been okay with waiting a bit longer, but, well.” She shrugged. “Politics, you know?”

“Being Queen sounds like a tough job.”

“It is.” Ruby sighed. “I think I envy you a bit. One ship sounds a whole lot easier to run than a country.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the captain disagreed. “Keep everyone safe, keep everyone fed. Same thing, really, just on a smaller scale.”

The pair’s moment of commiseration, powerful despite its brevity, was suddenly shattered by several loud screeches. Mounts were halted and weapons were drawn; everyone recognized the soul-piercing scream of a grimm about to attack.

They were well into the forest at this point, trees surrounding them on all sides. A perfect place for an ambush, if one had the smarts to make use of that. Which grimm usually didn’t, unless someone was controlling them again.

The first of the grimm dropped from the trees ahead of them. It was a large beast, monkey-like in shape but at least seven feet tall. A loud crack split the air and it went slack, already fading as it crashed into the ground. Blake’s eyes were drawn to the source of the sound. Captain Rose had slipped off the back of the sand dragon and was standing with her weapon against her shoulder, pointed up into the trees. Three more cracks signaled the fall of three more grimm, these ones not even leaving the trees before they died.

Despite herself, Blake was impressed. A skilled longbowman with enchanted arrows would still have difficulty making those shots. Blake wasn’t sure how much was the weapon and how much its wielder, but it was indisputably effective.

“You’re from around here, Blake,” Ruby said, joining her counterpart on the ground. “Do you know what kind of grimm these are?”

“They look like beringels,” she answered, “except I’ve never seen beringels with wings before.”

The rest of the grimm attacked as one. Leaping from the forest cover, they circled the group on wings too small to hold their bulk.

Blake was suddenly too busy staying alive to give more than the least amount of attention to her companions. She caught glimpses of Jaune, sticking close to Ruby and keeping grimm off her with his shield, and Penny, wielding a pair of identical swords and tearing through the grimm like they were wet paper. Even the impostor Ruby was holding her own, proving just as lethal in close combat as she was at range.

A pair of beringel swooped through the air at her. She ducked low, letting them pass overhead, then turned and launched her chain-scythe into the side of the nearest one. It struck deep, lodging itself in the creature’s ribcage. She was being pulled along as it flew, slowly arcing itself upwards. She moved with the momentum, launching herself into the air and swinging around until she was above it. A sharp tug brought her down on its back, and Gambol soon found its mark in the creature’s neck. It fell to the ground, fading even as it plowed through the dirt.

Blake looked around as she landed, trying to locate the other one that had attacked her. When she found it, she froze. Even if she could move, there was no way she would make it in time. Instead, she was forced to watch the scene unfold as if in slow motion.

Penny was in the thick of battle, taking on all comers and showing no hesitation as she fought multiple foes at once. Jaune and Ruby had stayed close together. Crescent Rose’s power was leaking out in small bursts, allowing Ruby’s semblance to keep most of the large creatures at bay using bursts of wind laden with rose petals. The few who got through were quickly struck down by either Crocea Mors or Little Thorn. Captain Rose, however, had ended up separate from the rest of the group.

One of the beringel, perhaps the one who’d attacked Blake moments ago, had flown up high, hiding itself in the shadows of the forest canopy. These grimm could move remarkably quietly, the movement of their wings barely registering even to her sharp, feline ears. There was no way the captain could hear it as it came down behind her.

“Ruby!” she shouted in warning, already knowing it would be too late. It raised a giant fist above its head, ready to bring it down on its target. Blake’s breath was caught in her lungs, wrapped around her chest and squeezing her heart.

Then, in an instant, the creature’s head was severed from its body. Smoke poured from the gaping hole, steadily traveling down its body as it faded away. Wreathed in the dissipating cloud was a woman with a familiar face. A few minor features, like the shade of her skin, were different, but the overall resemblance was undeniable. It was a face she’d seen in mirrors and pools of water; it was her own.

“You should really be watching your back, Ruby,” the woman, the other Blake, said.

Captain Rose whipped her gun around, pointing the end of it over the other Blake’s shoulder. Another loud crack and another beringel fell from the sky. “How can I,” she retorted, “when I’m so busy watching yours?”

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Between the addition of a new fighter and the beringel’s slowly decreasing numbers, the grimm soon made the decision to cut their losses and flee. Total casualties: zero. Or negative one, since they’d managed to find Blake during the battle.

Ruby Rose, Captain of the starship Crescent Rose and voted Best Girlfriend in Two Universes by the only person whose opinion on the subject mattered, was overjoyed to see Blake alive and unharmed. She’d been doing her best to hide it, but she’d been worried ever since she’d woken up.

Her worry eased further when they returned to the castle to find Weiss and, before long, Yang equally safe and sound. The two Weisses couldn’t have looked more different, and boy was it weird to see Weiss as a human, but the Yangs could’ve passed for twins, despite their age difference. She had already overheard them whispering about swapping outfits and both feared and anticipated whatever hijinks awaited.

With the four of them reunited, Ruby had hoped that returning home would be as simple as flipping a switch. Unfortunately, it seemed this universe was no more generous than her own. The black box had come through with Weiss and had been returned to her when the human Weiss, Ser Schnee, had picked her up from where she’d come through. Unfortunately, all attempts to activate it had resulted in complete failure. At Glynda’s recommendation, they’d returned it to the wizards of the Curia, allowing them to study it in hopes that their magic could do what Ruby’s jiggery-pokery couldn’t.

That left the four of them with nothing to do for over a week, none of them allowed outside the castle walls unsupervised for numerous reasons, mostly to do with their appearances resembling important political figures. Ruby was about to go mad from boredom when the day of the wedding finally came.

She really wasn’t sure what to think about it. The wedding of Ruby Rose and Blake Belladonna. It wasn’t something she’d given much thought to, her relationship with her own Blake still too young to be going down that rabbit hole. And yet here she was, a guest at her own wedding, getting a glimpse of what might, someday, be.

Although she suspected her own wedding wouldn’t ever be so grand.

The ceremony was being held outdoors, in the courtyard opposite the royal stables. The castle gates had been propped open, allowing anyone, even commoners, to enter and watch. Humans and faunus intermingled peacefully, an event, Ruby had been told, that was unfortunately rare of late. Seats of honor were reserved for delegates and representatives of the surrounding lands and neighboring planes, as well as close friends and family. Ruby scanned their faces, but aside from the members of the Summer Rose Court, she recognized few of them. There was Oobleck, an old co-worker of hers from Beacon and a librarian and researcher in this world, but she’d already met him while staying in the castle. The same went for Port, another member of the castle staff. She thought she spied Coco, unsurprisingly dressed like a noblewoman, talking with a much less well-dressed Velvet, as well as the less pleasant sight of Cardin Winchester, looking like a clergyman, of all things. Far outside the castle walls, all throughout the city, sounds of music floated through the air. Everyone was celebrating the Queen’s marriage.

Ruby and her crew hadn’t been given seats of honor, and instead were swaddled in heavy, identity-concealing cloaks and standing amongst the common masses. Ruby kept looking around, trying to spot any more familiar faces in the crowd. Was that the mayor of Evernight she spied?

The sound of trumpets signaled the beginning of the ceremony. The main doors of the castle were flung wide open, and out stepped Queen Rubilacxe Rose. She was dressed in a shining white suit of plate armor, trimmed in gold and etched with images of roses twisting about it. Underneath was a wine-red shirt, the tails of which reached down to the backs of her knees, and black pants. Atop her head was a crown of silver molded in the shape of roses, a single red stone sitting front-and-center, embedded in a crescent moon. At her side, his arm wrapped around hers, was Taiyang Xiao Long.

As inappropriate as it would be, Ruby nonetheless felt the urge to rush over and greet him. She hadn’t seen her own father in person in over a year, not since she’d left Vale. Sure, there were video chats, but bandwidth was expensive and unreliable so far from the rest of the galaxy, so such conversations were unhappily few.

Instead of rushing over and ruining the wedding for everyone, Ruby instead took the time, as the duo made their way down the aisle, to imagine herself in her counterpart’s shoes. They didn’t look comfortable. Ruby had imagined what her wedding day might look like when she was younger. She was usually wearing a dress in those daydreams, sometimes a suit, but always cloth. Metal armor looked so uncomfortable. Yang had a set of power armor she used to battle grimm with, on the rare occasion she wasn’t piloting a ship to fight them. Ruby had tried to fit in it once, and the attempt had done nothing good to her body.

What felt like an eternity later, but was in fact only a few minutes, the father/daughter duo finally reached the table where Ozpin stood ready to officiate. Her father bowed deeply to the Queen, then took a seat nearby. Then the trumpets sounded again, and a second pair exited the castle.

All eyes in the courtyard were on Blake. She was gorgeous, though Ruby would admit to being biased about the matter. She wore a dress so long that a young faunus girl followed behind her to lift the end off the ground so it didn’t trail through the dirt. It was two-toned; the bodice was white, with a low neckline and thin straps in lieu of sleeves. It was decorated with patterns of stones that glistened when they caught the sunlight and stretched past the waistline in loose loops and curls. The skirt, bell-shaped and made of overlapping layers, was dyed a purple so dark it nearly looked black. She didn’t wear a veil; instead, she had a crown of her own, this one made of actual flowers. Roses were woven together by their stems, each a shade of golden-yellow that matched Blake’s eyes, save for a single red rose near her left ears. An intricate braid interwoven with strings of polished wooden beads trailed down her back.

Ruby’s breath was caught in her throat the moment Blake Belladonna of the Southern Forest walked through the castle doors. At her side, her partner inhaled sharply. Ruby spared a moment to glance over at her girlfriend. It wasn’t awe that held her in place the way it did everyone else.

She turned back to the soon-to-be princess, trying to figure out what had set her partner off. Walking the bride down the aisle was a man Ruby didn’t recognize, dressed in fur-lined robes and possessing a pair of horns jutting out of his auburn hair.

“Do you know him?” Ruby whispered.

“That’s Adam,” Blake responded in the same hushed tone.

Oh. Adam had been Blake’s abusive ex-boyfriend. While Ruby still didn’t know many details, she could imagine how strange it would be to see such a person handing her alternate off at her wedding.

“I guess they have a different relationship in this world,” Blake muttered.

Ruby drew close to her, threading their fingers together and bumping shoulders. Blake squeezed her hand in response.

The couple of the day were united at last. Like Tai, Adam bowed to the queen and retreated to his seat, though Ruby noticed his bow seemed a bit shallower than Tai’s. Ozpin began the ceremony, speaking loudly enough to be heard all throughout the hushed crowd.

“We are gathered here today to witness the union of human and faunus. But more than that, we witness a union of love and commitment that has withstood countless tests.”

He continued on in the same vein, referencing events that Ruby had been told about but not witnessed and praising the couple for their feats. The speech was full of politically-aligned language with heavy emphasis on themes of strengthening the kingdom and unifying the two species, and seemed to say very little about the women actually getting married.

If Ruby had to guess, she’d say the two brides weren’t hearing a word of it, tuning it out in favor of each other’s presence.

Vows were exchanged, promises to support each other and to support the kingdom, and then Blake was anointed with rosewater and welcomed into the royal family. Finally, rings were exchanged. Queen Ruby placed a silver band on Princess Blake’s hand, then received a gold one in return.

Moments before the two could kiss and seal the deal, a piercing screech split the air and tore a portal open overhead. In an instant, the confusing swirl of emotions churning in Ruby’s stomach settled into something more familiar. Through the gap in space, Ruby saw a formless ocean of reds and blacks, twisting and gyrating to an ever-present song of rage and violence. A single massive claw gripped the edge of the portal, and an equally-sized grimm mask soon followed. It had the approximate shape of a deer’s skull, with sharp teeth and a brace of antlers that wound together as they plunged skyward, all tangled and intertwined like branches of an ancient tree, complete with tendrils of ivy and patches of moss hanging off.

Expectant cheers instead came out as screams of terror as panic drove the crowd into a frenzy. And yet, despite the pushing and pulling of people trying desperately to be anywhere except where they presently stood, a path was cleared between the royal couple and the woman Ruby had spotted in the crowd earlier. Her hair was black and her dress red, decorated with gold lining and glass jewelry. A pair of curved swords were strapped cross-wise on her back.

“For shame,” the woman said, her silken voice somehow perfectly understandable despite the panicked screams filling the air. “Lord Ozpin, you forgot the most important part.” She held out her hands palms up, and flames began to pour forth from them. “You didn’t ask if anyone has reason to object.”

The queen turned to her betrothed, stealing a quick kiss and sealing the deal. Then she tore the cloth off the table they stood at, revealing her and Blake’s weapons underneath.

She seemed to have the situation under control, so Ruby instead chose to focus on her crew, who were having a hard time staying together as people jostled them from all angles.

“I can’t see a thing in this cloak,” Weiss complained. “What’s happening?”

“Trouble,” was all Yang replied.

“Finally.” Weiss threw off her cloak and drew her blade in a flourish. “Who are we fighting?” She sounded excited. Spending so much time with Yang, Weiss was starting to pick up parts of her personality. “Oh,” she said as she turned her face to the portal above. “How did I not notice that?”

“From what she’s told me,” Ruby said, “the queen should be able to handle that on her own. We’ve got other fish to fry.” Though the alpha grimm had managed to catch everyone’s attention, other portals were opening throughout the courtyard, letting hordes of smaller grimm through. Ruby whipped Iron Thorn out from under her own heavy garments and chambered a round. “It’s time to repay our hosts for taking care of us for so long.”

Yang leapt high in the air, the heat from her armor activating burning off her extraneous outer layers, and landed atop a grimm moments before it could sink its teeth into a crying child. The rest of the crew followed her example.

The battle was intense, spilling out of the courtyard and into the city at large. Still, Ruby and her crew played their part, killing grimm and saving lives wherever they could. When everything was over, things had turned out better than expected. Casualties of the attack were few, and deaths even fewer. The alpha grimm had been cleaved in twain by the queen when she turned her glaive into a giant, glowing scythe, though not before it did significant damage to the castle walls, and the rest of the grimm were either driven off or killed.

After the all clear was sounded, Ruby and her crew retreated to the castle foyer, tending their wounds and trying not to draw attention to themselves. Most of the wedding crowd had been funneled inside after the attack began, letting the castle’s magical defenses tear apart any grimm that tried to step foot within, and many still remained.

The queen was making the rounds, talking softly with people, calming the worried, and generally being present and visible. When she reached Ruby’s little corner, where the four of them sat leaning against a pillar, she stopped.

“Thank you for your help today,” she said.

“Of course,” Ruby responded. “Did you get the woman responsible for all this?”

“Unfortunately, no. She managed to escape during the battle.” The queen sighed. “We figured something would happen today. Between the recent change in grimm behavior and the appearance of mutants, like those flying beringel from the forest, it seemed likely someone was controlling the grimm again. If they were going to attack, today was a likely day to do it.”

“It would’ve been nice to have a heads up,” Blake said, “if you saw this coming.”

“Sorry,” the queen said, and she did look genuinely apologetic. “You guys were kind of an unexpected addition to the situation and I didn’t want to put more on your shoulders than you deserved.”

“I understand,” Ruby assured her. “Sorry your wedding day got ruined like this.”

“Oh, pshah.” The queen waved her hand through the air. “This wasn’t the real wedding. Today was for the city and the nobles. We have a more private ceremony planned for the day after tomorrow, friends and family only.” She hesitated a moment, then continued. “You guys have more than proven yourselves to be friends today. If you’d like to stay a bit longer, you’d definitely be invited.”

“Sure,” Yang said. “It’s not like we’ve got anywhere else to go.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you guys about that.” The queen was fidgeting, a sign of anxiety that Ruby shared with her. “Today’s been so hectic I haven’t had the chance to say anything yet, but late last night the we received a message from the Curia. They’re pretty sure they can open a portal back to your world. I’d understand if you wanted to return home as soon as possible; we could do it tomorrow, if you’d like.”

Ruby shared glances with each of her crewmates, finding a general consensus in each of their looks. She stood from her spot and bowed at her waist. “Your Majesty, we would be honored to attend your wedding. Home can wait a little while longer.”

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

As promised, the second ceremony was a smaller affair. It was held in the throne room, with chairs that Blake and her crewmates were actually allowed to use this time. Most of the people present were court members, and the rest had been filled in as to their existence, so there was no need for heavy, identity-concealing clothing this time. Blake recognized most of the people present, either from having met them here or having met their counterparts in her own world; the only exceptions were the blonde boy with a monkey tail who sat next to Velvet and Coco on Blake’s counterpart’s side of the aisle, and a freckle-faced boy sitting next to Ruby’s uncle Qrow on the queen’s side.

This time the local Blake, now a princess (and wasn’t that an entertaining thought) was dressed in something that resembled a tuxedo. She wore a white shirt with puffy sleeves and silver cufflinks, as well as a black vest and trousers. Atop this was a black, fur-trimmed half-cloak that hung over her left shoulder and was held around her neck by a silver brooch. She entered first, accompanied again by her Adam.

Blake had wanted to talk her about that, to pull her aside the day before and ask all the questions spinning through her head. But when she’d tried, the words wouldn’t come out. The plan was to leave the next day, so her chances to try again were slowly dwindling away.

All unpleasant thoughts were blown away the moment Ruby, the other one, the queen, stepped into the room. Her dress had short sleeves and a neckline that ran along her collarbone. The bodice had been fitted tightly, so that it perfectly hugged the curve of her waist. The skirt was relatively thin, though still big enough to leave a trail, and the whole thing was dyed a deep red that darkened to black as it reached the bottom. Thin gold bracelets adorned each of her wrists, which paired with a tight, matching necklace. The simple outfit belied the elegance with which she wore it. Blake was unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of her walking down the aisle, though she maintained enough clarity to reach out blindly and grasp her girlfriend’s hand.

There was no bowl of rosewater this time, just Ozpin, Ruby, and Blake. “We’re gathered her today to celebrate love,” Ozpin began. “Today we forgo speeches about politics, interspecies relations, and the strength of the kingdom, and instead find joy as two people who love each other dearly make the promise to continue together until the end. Ruby, Blake, if you two would join hands.”

The princess raised her right hand, the queen her left, and the two wrapped their pinkies around each other’s.

“Ruby,” Ozpin prompted, “your vows.”

The queen nodded. “I wrote mine down, because I knew I’d be too nervous today to remember everything I wanted to say. But then I lost the paper I’d written it on, so I really hope I get this right.” She cleared her throat and began. “The first time I saw you, you stood with such confidence and certainty that if you’d told me you were royalty, I would’ve believed you. I’ve often thought since then that you’d make a far better queen than I could. But fate has made me queen and I can only make you my princess. As queen I’m supposed to say that I have to put my kingdom first, but I can’t. Your love means too much to me; I would throw everything out for your sake. If everything and everyone displeases you, then we can run away together and live our lives in secret. I vow to stand by your side, wherever you go. I vow to support you, in everything you try. I vow to love you, when I’m old and gray and can’t remember my own name, I’ll still remember you.”

Then it was the princess’s turn. “I never expected any of this,” she said. “Not even in my wildest dreams. You’ve made me the happiest person in the world, Ruby Rose. You did this, not as the Queen of Vale, but as yourself. I didn’t think much of you at first, but I’ve never been happier to be wrong about someone. I can’t promise you that our life will be easy; the tasks ahead of us are daunting, to say the least. I wish I could whisk you away to some tiny cottage on a lake, where we could live out the rest of our days in quiet bliss. But you’ve chosen to live your life on the difficult path, and I will love you forever for that. That’s not a promise, it’s just a fact; at this point, nothing could make me love you less. A vow is meant to be kept, a decision made every day for the rest of our lives, so I vow to stay. I vow to never run away from a problem that can be faced head on. I vow that whatever struggles may come between us, I’ll address them alongside you, as your wife.”

Blake found her gaze latched to the royal couple and unable to move. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her girlfriend right now. The words her counterpart spoke weighed heavily on her ears. She wondered if anyone else here really understood the depth of what she was promising. To never run away, when that was all she was good at. She tried to picture herself saying those words to her own Ruby, but she wasn’t there yet. Marriage is supposed to make you into a whole new person; if this Blake could keep her vows, then that would certainly be true for her. No wonder they say marriage is terrifying.

With both vows completed, the ceremony drew towards its close. Ozpin picked up a long span of soft, white rope and began winding it around the couple’s hands and wrists, until the two were completely bound together by the cord and a single, clasped pinky. As he tied the final tie in the knot, he declared, “With this I pronounce you wife and wife. You may kiss.”

Finally, Blake was able to look away, her gaze drifting to the side. Golden eyes met silver, and Ruby lifted their joined hands and pressed her lips against Blake’s hand. Blake returned the kiss in kind. A mixture of emotions ate away at her, bafflement at the absurdity of her situation, confusion about the emotions she was confronted with, and no small amount of love for the woman at her side.

Tonight they’d party and tomorrow they’d return home, but for that one moment there was only the two of them. Blake’s stomach settled a bit at the thought.

“I love you,” she whispered, just loud enough for Ruby to hear. She’d never said it before, but the moment she did she knew she meant it.

“I love you too,” Ruby whispered back.

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Just How Do Pet Cats Know What Time It Is?

Content

Animal Resting.

Top 5 Boarding Options For Your Family Pet.

Think About A Cat Sitter.

Invite To The Cats Hotel.

With A Series Of Holiday Accommodation We Can Cater For Individual Cats, Or Tiny Families.

C Urious To Know What Several Of Our Homesitters Got Up To Throughout Lock

Deal With With Treatment.

You have the ability to book a suite in the Cattery as much as one year beforehand, so if you do have a hint that you will certainly be disappearing and require this solution, it is constantly excellent to contact as soon as possible. They are made from white fibreglass, as well as have deep comfortable beds. With our expertise and experience we supply excellent care for your enjoyed ones. You will certainly have the satisfaction you should have when leaving your priceless relative with us.

He might be better in a Cat Hotel where there are other felines around him. Like people, pet cats have their individualities as well as are not just the same! For that reason, it is very important to think about the demands of your cat when determining whether a Cat Hotel or a Cat Caretaker is the most effective choice for your cat. A Cat Hotel or a Cattery is a boarding facility that you take your cat to when you are far from residence. It's normally purpose-built and also homes numerous felines in specific cages or rooms.

Invite to the honor winning, 5 celebrity ranked "Ings Deluxe Cat Hotel". Our focus is to offer our visitors the 5 star service they deserve, we promise an absolutely soothing, promoting and enjoyable stay. Our totally air conditioned hotel will certainly guarantee your cat will really feel comfy all year round. Based in Brentwood, Essex, as well as with very easy access to London and the M25 and M11 freeways, we are easily situated to look after felines from throughout South of England.

When you have to go away, your feline member of the family can stick with our family, in a warm, safe and secure, home-like setting, where we will look after them like our very own. Anita is a recognized, veterinarian referred cat behaviourist based in Notting Hillside as well as a full member of The Canine and also Feline Behavior Organization. She is additionally a master cat groomer, being experts in dealing with timid or aggressive cats.

Meet Tilly who took a trip from there in 2014 when her besotted proprietors emigrated to the North East. I was taking care of her while they were loading their belongings once more and also as well as moving to York. They added the "first 50 visitors will certainly each receive a Longcroft reward bag". Currently, the feline-friendly center will be officially opened on Sunday, September 20, by MP for Romsey and Southampton North, Caroline Nokes.

I keep track of the day-to-day feeding, toileting and also behavior practices of every cat to ensure that they are happy and healthy. It is very important that a cat doesn't go also long without water as it can create serious kidney damage. Must there be any type of health and wellness problems, my vet is available 24/7 ought to your own be also far away. Family pet Remedy is scientifically verified to calm as well as de-stress animals normally, this mild aroma fills up the area.

To aid us with our new ways of working and also to maintain all of us safe, please do not participate in the method unless you have actually called us first as well as have a pre-booked consultation. Required cookies are definitely crucial for the site to work correctly. This group only includes cookies that makes sure fundamental functionalities as well as protection features of the site. This internet site makes use of cookies to enhance your experience while you browse with the web site. Out of these cookies, the cookies that are classified as needed are kept on your web browser as they are vital for the working of standard functionalities of the web site.

To book your cat in to our hotel, please call the method on. Our cattery offers a large area including Horley, Crawley, Reigate, Horsham, Redhill, East Grinstead and all the surrounding areas. We're easily situated just 10 minutes from the M25 in Horley, and just 3 miles from Gatwick Airport terminal, which means you can say goodbye to your moggie then head of on your journeys understanding he'll remain in purrfectly safe hands.

In the area you might pay an everyday price of up to ₤ 17 for one cat, ₤ 24 for two felines, and also ₤ 31 for 3 pet cats. A Cat Hotel will certainly vary in rate depending upon the standard of solution and also the facilities/care that your cat will obtain.

Pet Dog Resting.

She holds an extraordinary honour level in Feline Behavior & Psychology and deals with her partner, a successful songs manufacturer and also two Norwegian Forest felines. Anita creates routine functions for Your Cat as well as The Cats Defense and also gets on the specialists panel of Your Cat publication.

Most Cat Hotels have restrictions around drop off and collection times, implying you require to plan when you drop off your cat around your journey times. It is necessary to weigh up the benefits and drawbacks of each service and also see which finest satisfies the demands of your cat.

Our company believe our centers offer an absolutely distinct and also unique experience in regards to high-end and also activities. Our promise is to take care of every guest as if they were our very own, keeping it personal with our sensational collections, underfloor warmed indoor designer collections with ensuite outdoor centers. We guarantee to give the greatest service as well as facilities readily available.

We likewise use third-party cookies that aid us examine as well as understand just how you utilize this site. These cookies will be stored in your internet browser just with your authorization. But pulling out of some of these cookies may have an effect on your surfing experience.

Leading 5 Boarding Options For Your Pet Dog.

We have 9 roomy cat rooms on the first floor of the Longwater Lane surgical procedure in Costessey. The area is light and ventilated with the added benefit of cooling. This suggests that no matter the weather condition, your cat will be comfortable and also warm in winter season as well as cool in summertime.

Our qualified vet team will after that go over with you any kind of problems you might have or particular requirements of your cat, and also can show you your cat's house throughout their stay with us. Figure out the similarity each individual cat as well as take loving care of your feline good friends. Every cat is various-- the snuggly British Shorthair tomcat loves being cuddled, while Maggy, the curious ragdoll, discovers the laser tip game fantastic fun. Care for the felines, feed them and play with them up until their owners pertain to choose them up once more.

For check out that doesn't such as to travel we provide a one to one service where we visit your cat once or twice daily in your home. In addition to revitalizing the trash and also feeding and watering your cat/s, we likewise spend high quality time with them. Playing, brushing as well as rubbing your cat according to your instructions and their demands.

Think About A Cat Sitter.

Providers differ each or business, but you can generally anticipate a pet dog caretaker or cat resting solution to find to your house a minimum of twice a day to feed your cat, play with them and also clean their clutter tray.

As well as keeping an eye on your cat, they will likewise water any type of houseplants and maintain your house looking "lived-in" to prevent thiefs.

The next best option to getting a friend or family member to care for your cat is to discover an expert residence sitter that'll stay in your home while you're away to care for your cat in their usual day-to-day setting.

Whichever solution or person you select, provide your pet dog caretaker as well as your cat the possibility to fulfill one another prior to you leave them in each various other's care.

You may wish to try an expert animal sitter or cat sitting solution, as an example.

Some older cats that have never been to a cattery might take a bit longer and we do our ideal to help them settle in, however time to change is what is really required below.

Kittens as well as younger felines are normally very quick to adjust to the setting here.

This suggests each cat has to have a legitimate injection certificate signed by a veterinarian and also vaccinations need to have been carried out within the last 12months. Admission to the cattery should be no behind 4pm on the day of arrival.

Interaction is a top priority as well as you will be sent routine photo/text updates. That isn't to say that all felines would certainly feel lonesome, some felines are independent and also territorial, they are used to coming as well as going easily. In this instance, a cat sitter could be the preferred alternative, particularly if your cat has made his visibility known in the neighborhood. Momentarily getting rid of a cat of this nature, from his habitat, can disturb the equilibrium in between the neighborhood felines.

Her images and also video updates were great as well as she clearly genuinely enjoyed her brows through and so did our felines. It is so wonderful to recognize they are well looked after in our absence. If you have greater than three pet cats, please contact us for a quote.

If you're flying off on vacation or service, our place places us in very easy reach of the London flight terminals. We simply wished to say a massive thanks for caring for Tilly the last couple of weeks! So delighted to have discovered such a friendly accommodating service to take care of my cat.The on line portal is outstanding as well as when needing to speak with the owner, she will certainly constantly try to assist. My cat sitter is very expert friendly and also calming and will certainly send images of the happy moggie on her visits. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cattery wished to say thank you to Sharon for taking care of Coco and Simba so well recently.

The cat rooms were designed by a veterinarian at the experiment his cat in mind, and then constructed to our bespoke specification by an expert company. Rescue, take care of as well as take care of the animals of America in this pet video game. With the flexibility to stroll in a comfy environment and a caring shoulder to Meow on, day or evening your feline will quickly be purring with happiness. For your benefit we are additionally providing collections and also drop-off service. While you're away rest assured your precious pet will be having as nice a time as you.

Gourmet menus and also brushing services, partners whose single work it is to come in and delight citizens and lodging of special demands. This precise focus to detail is what defines a remain at Longcroft. From kittycats to elderly, pedigree or rescue, unique diets, medicine or nurturing anxious visitors - we always go the extra mile to make our guests feel comfortable. I made use of The Cat Butler having actually used an additional company for 10 years. From the beginning I discovered Sandra, the owner as well as Rhian, who looked after our cat, extremely handy as well as educated as well as nothing was excessive difficulty.

Invite To The Cats Hotel.

After that connect with us today to talk to a participant of our cattery team. All male felines over the age of 6 months should be castrated; this is to lower tension degrees among other boarding felines. Otherwise lately dealt with, appropriate medication will be provided and also treatment will certainly be offered at your expenditure.

With A Range Of Lodging We Can Cater For Private Pet Cats, Or Small Families.

Those advertisements you do see are predominantly from local companies advertising regional services. We are functioning safely and also will remain to supply take care of your family pets during the COVID-19 pandemic.

We treat our pet dogs as family members, which's exactly how we'll treat your own, too. Our indoor, fully heated areas are a few of the largest in the nation and also fulfill the highest well-being requirements. Your felines will certainly enjoy our huge home windows with a sight, climbing up trees, playthings, and also outside balconies. They are based in the ideal and also peaceful area of Sway in the New Forest, where birdsong loads the air and the landscapes is superb. With pet cats provided the choice of a fine eating menu and also a view via purpose-built glass doors and windows, Hotel Cat seems like the purr-fect holiday.

In the unlikely occasion of any type of severe troubles occurring then the responsibility veterinarian will constantly get on hand 24/7. If need be, unwell pet cats can be transferred to be hospitalised at our major centre at Taverham. Prior to their stay with us, your cat is checked over and also inoculation status is examined by a veterinarian for free to make certain they are fit and healthy.

Copyright © 2020 HOTEL CAT|Deluxe cattery Hampshire|Luxury Cat Hotel. Beautiful, well considered facility, with a cat tree and also a separate, warm bed location. My two fur infants Marcus as well as Charlie were well cared for by Ali. The service is reasonably priced and we would absolutely suggest leaving family pet dogs here.

Boarding Cattery Solutions

The Lodge High-end Cat Hotel, located on the borders of the country Lincolnshire town of Boston, is run by cat lovers, for cat lovers. Developed with comfort and also indulging in mind, The Lodge is dedicated to offering your cat the high-end it should have while you are away. The Lodge Luxury Cat Hotel is a Cattery located on the borders of the rural Lincolnshire community of Boston, is run by cat enthusiasts, for cat lovers. Feel free to search our internet site for even more details on our high-end Cattery.

I have tried various other brand names for many years however this has always had the best action from my own pet cats. Extremely suggest Clyde Valley Cat Hotel for anybody who desires their pet cats to have a home far from residence and get great deals of TLC. Lovely store cattery located in the breathtaking Clyde Valley, Lanarkshire. " Every guest who stays at Longcroft Romsey will certainly be treated as an individual and also we will hang out making sure their remain with us is as comfortable as feasible." Several of the other facilities the at the hotel consist of a gourmet menu, where pets can be pampered with salmon, poultry as well as shellfishes, along with grooming services as well as day-to-day play sessions.

Here are my top six choices of the very best cat hotels from around the globe. All felines should be totally vaccinated versus cat influenza as well as feline enteritis before admission.

We are happy to be able to provide a Cat Hotel as component of our Vet Healthcare Facility in Caterham. We have superb centers for your feline buddy which will guarantee that they have a relaxing break whilst you are away.

In between each collection are rounded windows on the wall that can be open up to produce an interconnecting suite for multi-cat family members. Mountain climbers, multi-level platforms as well as other enjoyable hidey-holes ensure every cat proprietor is obtaining the most effective feasible look after their much-loved mog.

Whether you are taking place holiday, relocating house or taking a break we can provide extravagant accommodation, a great dining menu alternative and a lot of love and interest for your cat. With a selection of the 'Luxury Hotel', the amazing 'Lodge' and also our incredible 'Tower' collections we have selections to satisfy all preferences and also needs.

" We have a special love for our fuzzy feline pals and can't wait to start conference and also learning more about our visitors. Dealing with a cat to an evening at the hotel's huge suite will set you back ₤ 18 per evening or ₤ 27 for 2. Longcroft Deluxe Cat Hotel Team now has 23 cat hotels in the UK, with the most recent addition being opened in New Barn Farm House, Discomforts Hillside, Lockerley. A NEW first-class cat hotel is set to have its grand opening in a village near Romsey. We are a family members of cat lovers with a lifetimes' experience of caring for pet cats.

I would certainly rate them 10 out of 10 and also would certainly not hesitate to suggest them to any individual. I would certainly advise the Cat Butler to any individual, including those with more difficult family pets to handle. They comprehend just what's needed and also are reassuring to pets as well as their owners. For a tiny additional charge, we will certainly also care for other household pets, such as birds, hamsters, rabbits, etc . Then he will possibly be much happier staying at home and also having a Cat Caretaker visit when you disappear than being boarded in a Cat Hotel.