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sie-werden-nie-vergessen · 4 years ago

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a reunion - ethel & ephraim

Angstember Prompt No. 1 - “They Told Me You Were Dead”

(this turned out to be way more fluff than angst, but ehh oh well)

{spoilers for The Bellows Book}

Ephraim swallows at the thought of Harold, the sadness welling in his throat. A tear slips down his cheek, and for the first time in his life, he doesn’t try to hide it. As Ethel silently watches him, she realizes that she is looking at the same man that she left at Pennhurst; the one who is so full of self-hatred and grief and doubt that it’s a wonder that he’s even still standing.

“They told me you were dead”

Ephraim stands at the bottom of the stairs, his hat crumpled in his hands. He shifts from side to side, waiting for a response.

Ethel pulls the shawl tighter around herself. She’s smaller now than she was at Pennhurst, and her eyes are sunken. Still, her complexion is warm and her eyes are bright.

She’s getting better, he thinks.

Ethel shakes her head. Her hair floats around her face, the bun at the nape of her neck doing little to contain the soft curls. “No,” she says softly. “Did Ruthie tell you that?”

Ephraim takes a tentative step forward. The light snow crunches under his feet, and as he steps forward, he notices Ethel shivering. “No, she didn’t. The doctors at Pennhurst...they said….”

He trails off. He can’t bring himself to say it.

They stand in silence for a moment, Ephraim shifting back and forth while Ethel shivers quietly. She bites her lip, unsure of what to say.

“Diphtheria,” she says finally. “They thought it was TB at first, because of Violet.”

Her eyes well at the thought of Violet. Poor, poor sweet Violet...

And Harold too....

The man who realized too late that he wanted to do good with his life.

The old Ephraim is gone, and Ethel is delighted.

She descends the stairs slowly, partly because of her weakness and partly due to the fact that she wants to be gentle. Ephraim has never been gentle; it isn’t his forte. However, he needed gentleness. He had needed gentleness his whole life and had been denied it at every turn, and that denial had bred a dangerous hatred in him, but that hatred was gone now. Ethel could see that plainly.

Reaching out, she places a hand on his arm, just below his shoulder. She pulls him closer to her, and he obliges. He still doesn’t look at her, however. He stares ahead as hot tears roll down his face, his jaw set tightly and his teeth clenched.

Ethel slides her hand up his arm, allowing it to rest on his shoulder. She rests her other hand on his forearm and gently turns him to face more towards her. When he still doesn’t look at her, she moves her hand to his face, her thumb tracing over his cheek.

Finally, he looks at her, and for once his eyes are soft. “Come inside,” she says softly. “You’ll get sick out here in the cold.”

He nods silently, and Ethel hooks her arm through his as she leads him up the steps and to the large oak door. Ephraim thinks of how silly it is that he - a doctor - is being led by a sick woman, but he says nothing. For once in his life, he doesn’t protest.

The stairs are icy and slick, and for a moment Ethel falters. Ephraim snaps out of his stupor and steadies her before she falls. When she regains her balance, she glances over her shoulder at him, her brown eyes gazing into his. It goes unsaid, but Ephraim understands completely.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

They’ve never stood so close before, but Ephraim has little time to process this before the door swings open. Warm air rushes onto the doorstep as Ethel quickly pulls him inside. She shuts the door behind herself and laughs softly as she brushes snow from his shoulders. “You’re so red!” she cries, and Ephraim can’t decide if it’s because of the cold, or because of her. As he glances around the room, he notices Ruth emerging from what must be the kitchen. She’s wiping her hands on an apron, and the hem of her gingham skirt is speckled with flour. They lock eyes for a moment, and Ruth pretends to not notice the fact that he is as red as a beet.

Ethel laughs softly again, and Ruth smiles.

She hasn’t heard Ethel laugh in months, and despite her hatred for Ephraim Bellows, she can’t help but be happy to hear her cousin’s laughter. Ethel turns to her in excitement.

“He’s come back!” she exclaims, and Ruth nods in acknowledgment.

When Ethel turns her back, however, Ruth locks eyes with Ephraim once again. A silent threat passes between the two of them before Ruth quickly turns back to the kitchen, leaving them all alone. Ephraim wants to explain everything to her. He wants to assure her that he’s changed now, but he knows she wouldn’t believe him, not after what happened to Sarah.

Sarah.

Tears prick at his eyes at the thought of her, but this time he fights them. There’s no sense in upsetting Ethel. Not now, at least. He wonders half-heartedly if she’s seen Sarah’s files yet. Surely she has, after Ruth nearly broke into his office to berate him. Despite that, he isn’t sure. He doesn’t have much time to contemplate it, however, because Ethel soon ushers him into the parlor.

It’s a cozy room, with plush sofas and armchairs scattered around the room. A large fireplace sits against the far right wall, a plush pink armchair sitting in front of it. The chair is out of place with the rest of the furniture, and Ephraim decides that it must be Ethel’s. A side table sits beside it, its top covered in novels, further confirming Ephraim’s suspicions. They sit together on the sofa closest to the door. It’s a soft cream color, and it reminds Ephraim of home.

He hates to be reminded of that place.

Just as they begin to settle themselves, Charles walks into the room and seats himself in the armchair opposite the pair. He stares at Ephraim for a moment before picking up a nearby newspaper and flipping it open.

Ethel shifts uncomfortably in her seat, feeling awkward now that her cousin is watching her. She knows what Ruth thinks of Ephraim, and therefore what Charles thinks by extension. She fiddles with the edge of a nearby pillow, her eyes trained steadily on the ground.

Ephraim, meanwhile, taps his foot nervously on the Persian rug that sits under their feet. It’s a pale green color, and it produces a soft thud, thud every time his shoe taps its surface. The only sounds now are the crackling of the fireplace, the whoosh of a turning paper, and the soft thud, thud of Ephraim’s shoe.

Ethel clears her throat, her voice still weak from the effects of diphtheria. “I missed you,” she whispers, her voice cracking a bit as she does so. Ephraim nods. “So did I.”

She nods in return, the remaining hair tumbling from the loose bun as she does so. Normally, it would be improper for a woman to wear her hair loose around anyone but the closest of family members, but considering the circumstances, neither she nor Ephraim is bothered. She’s sick, of course, and sometimes allowances must be made.

Ephraim swallows as his mind once again darts to Sarah.

You should have made allowances for her, too.

He shakes his head slightly, pushing the thoughts away. Now is not the time to upset himself, or Ethel. Instead, he focuses on her. Her hair is long, and it curls softly, but whether it’s by nature or by human manipulation, Ephraim isn’t sure. Either way, he decides, it suits her.

Suddenly Ruth calls from the kitchen for Charles, and he sets aside his paper with a look of annoyance. “I’m coming!” he calls, throwing a glare in Ephraim’s direction before striding out of sight.

When he’s out of their line of sight, Ethel smiles clumsily at Ephraim. She turns more towards him, her knees now pointed in his direction. She reaches out and grasps his hand, all the while keeping her eyes trained on his. She leans her head back onto the sofa while she watches him. It's as if she's unsure of what to say - and she isn't sure, especially not after what happened in Mill Valley.

Finally, she decides on the truth.

“I’m glad that you’re better.”

Ephraim nods, his eyes locked on hers.

“So am I.”

After a moment, she moves closer to him, leaning her head against his chest. He stiffens at the contact, unsure of what to do. Finally, he intertwines his fingers with hers, his free arm resting on her shoulder. Ethel places her other hand on top of their intertwined hands, nestling herself further against him. She sighs lightly, her thumb drawing across his. She smiles against his chest.

“Ruthie will kill us if she sees us like this.”

Ephraim smiles, his chin resting against her head.

“I guess we’ll just have to make sure that she doesn’t.”

#angstember2021 #ethelfic #ethel moore #ephraim bellows #scary stories to tell in the dark #ssttitd #lets just ignore the fact that their interactions are basically me with my SO #this is sickly sweet fluff but honestly it was only a matter of time before I caved #I just really love their relationship #ethel is my own character #ruth is my own character #charles is my own character

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hyena-frog · 5 years ago

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I personally don't understand people who think that Virginia 'can't win on her own'. As if she has to prove herself or she is 'too nice' and has to learn 'how to violence'. Just because Sevro's solution for everything is cutting some fingers or worse, doesn't mean he is always right or that Mustang's work to keep that balance and play within the designated lines is not badass or interesting. She is the only demokratic ruler and her own people gave her absolute power of decision making to end the war at any cost. What's not great about that!?

If Virginia was indeed 'too nice', she would have perished long ago - last absolute cinnamon roll we saw was Julian and we all know what Society thinks about people like him. Just because she plays by the rules, doesn't mean she has no claws - she wiped a terrorist's memories away for fuck's sake. Now that the rules have been extended, you can bet your ass that she'll take more than one page out of Nero's playbook. After all, she said it herself, she tamed herself, but it's fun to let the lion out.

Agreed 110%! I don't understand people who give Virginia shit in general tbh. I mean, how do you not fall in love with her immediately? How are you not ride or die for her from the get-go? It boggles the mind.

Those arguments, being "too nice" or being unable to win on her own, are reaching and easily debunkable. The lack of reading comprehension. 😒 If you don't like her, then whatever. I may not understand how that’s possible, but it really isn’t necessary to make shit up, you know?

Virginia can't win on her own, huh. The nerve! Where would Darrow be without her? Dead. Many times over. He would have bled out after Cassius stabbed him if Virginia hadn't helped him. And it was Virginia who brought the Howlers back from the Rim weeks in advance of Darrow actually needing them, just in case. So many things would have gone wrong in Morning Star if she wasn't at Darrow's side (and if Ragnar hadn't gone out of his way to make sure she'd be there, the absolute legend).

Perhaps it's Darrow who can't win on his own? But that sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? All of his successes were achieved through teamwork. Darrow acknowledges this many times. It's the same for Virginia. While it's simply not true that she can't win on her own, it’s also untrue that the inability to win on your own is a bad thing. The whole argument doesn’t make any sense.

The idea Virginia still needs to “prove” herself despite doing so plenty of times already throughout the series is frustrating. The fact of the matter is, the success of the Rising relies just as heavily on Virginia's intelligence as it does Darrow's battle skills. The Solar Republic simply wouldn't exist without her. Fitchner never had a clear vision of what "after the Society" would look like and neither did Darrow for a long time. The war effort needs a conscience and a vision for the future, otherwise it's just endless bloodshed. Virginia helps Darrow see beyond the bloodshed. Plus, Darrow has no interest in politics. He'd be the first to admit he’s not good at the slow game of political maneuvering. But Virginia thrives in that environment. In Dark Age, Darrow even admits his current predicament is a consequence of not trusting his wife's way of running the Republic, and he vows never to do that again.

Sure, Virginia doesn't get into physical fights often, especially now that she is Sovereign. But politics is no less perilous a battlefield. I feel like because the political battlefield isn't as flashy and fast paced as a literal one, people forget the constant danger she is in, even before the Senate's betrayal. Silenius' Stiletto is a delicate tightrope act she has to perform every day to drag progress forward while keeping her opponents in check. This requires a level of self-restraint, clear-headedness, and badassery, that no other character can achieve.

Virginia is not "too nice." She is practical. And often, is it practical to play nice. Not every confrontation is best solved through violence Sevro. We all know the line: Virginia is the mustang that nuzzles the hand; people know they can work with her. That’s why the people chose her consistently for ten years, over literally everyone else in the solar system, to run this new government. And her steadfast resolve to gain Imperium legally, to not force her will on the people, proved to them again that she won’t abuse this ultimate power to end the war.

No, Virginia may be reasonable but that doesn't mean she is too nice. If she was too nice, she wouldn't have used her relationship with Cassius to protect her family. She wouldn't have shot Cassius in the throat with an arrow. She wouldn't have promised Ephraim he would "die shitting in a foreign bed" if he skipped about on their bargain to return the kids. She wouldn't have zapped the Duke of Hands' entire personality from his head. Like you said, she never would have made it this far if she was truly toothless. She's practical, and sometimes the practical solution doesn't require violence, but creative thinking.

Speaking of creative thinking, one thing Virginia doesn’t get nearly enough credit for is abolishing the death penalty immediately after Adrius was hanged. That wasn't her being "too nice" or too lenient on her caste. Yes, she feels life in prison is the moral option over the death penalty. But she knows her people. The punishment for the worst criminals in Deepgrave is a Gold's worst nightmare. Life in prison denies a Gold their desire for a glorious death, to be remembered through the ages for their deeds in battle. The Republic's justice system sends a clear message: "Mess with us, and you won't get your notoriety or fame, you'll only get obscurity and shame and sucking algae through a tube until you die naturally of old age." That to me is crueler than hanging.

Virginia’s mind is her greatest weapon, but more than that, her greatest strength is how she applies her intelligence. Her ability to read people, and to communicate, is greatly underappreciated imo. These skills require nonviolent interaction yet they yield great results. There are many examples of this. She used her natural charisma to gain Octavia's trust. She brokered an alliance with the Rim when she thought Darrow was dead. She held the Republic together for ten years despite constant, increasing animosity from the Vox. She refused to torture Lyria and was able to see she was not lying about being an unwitting pawn in the kidnapping scheme and was rewarded with information and a new ally. She figured out exactly what Sefi was planning for Cimmeria, even manipulating the situation to her advantage without Sefi realizing it. She knew Victra was going to bargain with Sefi for the kids, without being told. In her own words, this is simply what she does.

There is a quote in Iron Gold that caught my eye: "Communication is the soul of civilization." (532) Now, this line has nothing directly to do with Virginia. This is Ephraim trying to get a rise out of Gorgo. But it fits Virginia perfectly, doesn’t it? The Republic is able to exist as a civilization because it has such an amazing communicator at its center.

Virginia is such an excellent communicator that she is even able to get parties who refuse to communicate with her initially to reciprocate communication eventually. She convinces Sevro, Dancer, and even Victra to stop freezing her out and work together. She does this by speaking their "language." She knows exactly what to say or what to do to get them to finally listen to her. Revealing she already knows exactly what is going on works for Sevro, providing hard evidence of conspiracy works for Dancer, and proving her actions (showing her scars) works for Victra. This isn't to say she never makes mistakes. She shouldn't have called the Wardens on Darrow, for example, just as Darrow shouldn't have kept the meeting with the Society "diplomats" a secret from her and the Senate. But more often than not, her nonviolent communication skills yield valuable results.

As for Virginia apparently needing to learn how to use violence… While Victra and Sevro’s feelings were justified, their actions at the end of Iron Gold and the beginning of Dark Age were just wrong, wrong, wrong imo. Freezing out Virginia did nothing but delay the return of the kids. It's frustrating to think how much heartbreak could have been avoided if they'd just put their heads together from the moment the kids disappeared. And what exactly did Sevro's rampage through Luna's underground accomplish? Some dead Syndicate thorns, sure. But that tantrum put a huge target on Sevro's back. As Virginia said, one lucky sniper and boom, no more Sevro. What would Victra have done then?

While it may feel like Virginia would have achieved more if she just beheaded some people, she has a responsibility as Sovereign to consider the bigger picture. She has to consider the Stiletto. If the Vox saw her offing some fools it would have added credibility to their smear campaign. The people would have lost faith in her and think she turned into another Octavia. Whoever replaced her could use her actions to justify their own dictatorship. Violence was simply not practical for her until she legally gained Imperium. Now though… 😈

Virginia's over here playing 3D chess while everyone else is playing Connect Four, but this still isn’t enough for some people. After the clone gets the better of her, she gets flack for not being an omniscient god and just knowing her twin brother laid out a plan to clone himself ten years ago. Tut, tut, should have seen that one coming, despite the lack of evidence. If only she’d punched some people. (Can you see I hate this argument with every fiber of my being?)

In Dark Age, Ozgard says this about Electra and Pax: "She is better fighter. He is more dangerous human." (184) Well, Pax gets it from his momma. Pax and Virginia may not be able to throw devastating punches but in many ways, their intellect is what makes them the greater threat to their enemies.

Thank you for the ask!

#virginia au augustus #red rising #iron gold #dark age #iron gold trilogy #dark age spoilers #astreamikaelson13 #sorry I disappeared for like a week #I'm back writing unnecessarily long posts #my post

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crystalelemental · 4 years ago

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Eirika: “Oh great. Second place. And last place among the top four. This sucks.”

Ephraim: “What’s wrong with second place? You got the Brave alt, sis.”

Eirika: “I was supposed to beat you!”

Ephraim: “Beat me?”

Eirika: “This was my chance! I had first place by midterms, and it was taken from me, and now I’m in the same place you are but years later! After everything, people still see me as just a worse you!”

Marianne: “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t taken first place from you-”

Eirika, holding her face: “Shhhhhshshsh. No. You have done nothing wrong ever, and we love you.”

Marianne: “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

Eirika, whispering: “You deserve everything.”

Byleth: O_O *points to self*

Eirika: “You deserve nothing! Get out of here, loser!”

Byleth: O_O, *sadness*

Eirika: “Freaks me the fuck out…”

Ephraim: “I can understand how you feel, but you still won second, and second really matters!”

Camilla: “Exactly! I mean, I was first, but second is fine, given how many people spite voted Micaiah to throw me off.”

Eirika: “Wait, spite voting?”

Camilla: “Oh yes, it’s when a bunch of people vote for a character not because they love them, but because they hate the alternative so much they’ll refuse to vote based on their preference and instead vote for someone with a chance to ruin the one they hate. That’s why I wasn’t second in CYL2.”

Veronica: “It’s true. I’m only here because enough people hate Camilla to offset those who love her. I don’t even think I’m that popular. I was probably just going to be that one weirdly high-ranking OC for that year, who’d drop like a rock immediately after.”

Lysithea: “I had fewer votes than Marth and am only here because of gendered divisions.”

Eirika: “Okay, I’m going to need you all to be honest with me. None of this matters, does it? My winning or losing had no value either way.”

Ephraim: “What kind of mentality is that supposed to be?”

Eirika: “Ephraim, listen. Maybe in your time, second place meant something. You lost to Hector, one of the fan favorites, and to Celica, who recently migrated into existence in a meaningful way. Your competition mattered.”

Ephraim: “We had Veronica win our year, Eirika. Veronica.”

Veronica: “What is that supposed to mean?”

Ephraim: “You don’t exactly have much going on. You were a big antagonist initially, but all you had even then was sad angry child. Nowadays you’re really just an ally that refuses to admit you’ve gone soft, and your popularity was clearly a mix of being barely passable as an archetype and spite voting Camilla out.”

Veronica: “A fair assessment, but words can still hurt.”

Eirika: “But at least your competition mattered. Being here just feels like a joke anymore, and being second is a disgrace.”

Ephraim: “Listen, losing to Marianne and Marth isn’t anything to be ashamed of. They’re good first place picks.”

Eirika: “Marth didn’t get first. He was second.”

Ephraim: “Wait, what? But...Chrom didn’t get in, so who-”

Gatekeeper: “Greetings, everyone! Nothing to report!”

Ephraim: “I...don’t even know this person.”

Eirika: “He’s Gatekeeper.”

Ephraim: “Yes, I can tell from the uniform, but what’s his name?”

Eirika: “He does not have one.”

Ephraim: “...what?”

Eirika: “No one knows his name. Not even the people from Fodlan during his time. He was just some guy that stood at the gates of their academy and guarded things. According to some, guarded them badly.”

Ephraim: “...huh.”

Eirika: “We all lost to that.”

Marianne: “I’m just happy to know others think so highly of me.”

Ephraim: “Marianne’s got the right idea.”

Eirika: “But this is supposed to be a prestigious event! And we all lost to a nameless nobody! It wasn’t even close! He had more than double Marianne’s votes, and therefore even more of a lead over me! I’m less than half as important and interesting in the eyes of the people as this guy! We’re past the point where important figures seem to matter to anyone, and we’re all just consolation prizes after random selections! It’s a disgrace!”

Ephraim: “Eirika, I think maybe you need to hear some advice Duessel once gave to me, that might cheer you up.”

Eirika: “I really do not need war advice from that man.”

Ephraim: “The only HP that matters is zero.”

Eirika: “...that sounds exactly like something he’d say. What is that supposed to mean?”

Ephraim: “It means that it doesn’t matter how much is left, or how close something comes. At the end of the day, there are only two distinct states of being: Alive, or dead. Victory, or defeat. And you won today, Eirika. That’s all that matters.”

Eirika: “But it feels like it should matter! This is meant to be a means of determining who people love. What stories they hold close to their hearts, and the characters that stirred their passions and imaginations! The means and nuance of outcomes should matter!”

Ephraim: “But they don’t.”

Eirika: “But that’s completely dissatisfying!”

Ephraim: “Yes, Eirika. Yes it is. But hey, look at it this way. Second place can be just as good or better than first place.”

Eirika: “Wouldn’t they give more to the winners?”

Ephraim: “I mean they get a cool skill, but look at the last few years. Veronica ranked last in my run, and she was the best of us for years.”

Veronica: “It’s true. Everyone was afraid of me.”

Ephraim: “And Lyisthea was last place last year, and no one considers her a bad unit.”

Eirika: “I guess, but...Roy? Eliwood?”

Ephraim: “Were still pretty good! Every Brave alt does well for itself, even if it’s not a top threat. And just remember that Alm won CYL3 and is considered the worst of all of them.”

Eirika: “I don’t know…”

Ephraim: “Then think about it this way. Getting last place means last pick of weapon.”

Eirika: “How is that a good thing? That just means I have even less say!”

Ephraim: “Well, what would the others pick? Have you thought about it?”

Eirika: “Well, Marth will take sword, I’m sure. And Gatekeeper has a lance so that’s likely blue down. So I could have green or colorless.”

Ephraim: “Exactly. Green’s really good coverage for you, and Colorless...look, Colorless is the best color every year. Veronica and Lyn absolutely dominated their competition until refines were given, Camilla was the strongest in a fairly underwhelming bunch, and Claude honestly had more variety than the others and is likely to stand the test of time. If you’re Colorless, you’re in the clear.”

Eirika: “Okay, but...what if you’re wrong, and they make me a blue unit? What if I’m a lance cav?”

Ephraim, placing a hand on her shoulder: “Then all is dust, Eirika. All is as dust.”

#feh headcanons #eirika #ephraim #marianne #byleth #veronica #choose your legends 5 #this is late but you know

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jacobanfundies · 4 years ago

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Info: The Donners

I have a lot of thoughts and ideas about Reuben’s family, but I’m not sure how much of it is actually going to make it into Kimberly’s blog, so I thought I would write up a quick guide to them all!

Left to right: Amara, Zeb, Elena, Ella

(Zeb’s traits: Family oriented, competitive, ambitious Elena’s traits: Perfectionist, homemaker, proper Amara’s traits: Cheerful, neat, active Ella’s traits: Cheerful, self absorbed, romantic)

Zeb and Elena are Reuben’s parents, and they have six children. In order: Amara, Kelvin, Prudence, Anita, Ella, and Reuben. Zeb very much has that kind of Southern used car salesman personality, if you know what I mean. Elena probably speaks with a Michelle Duggar level baby voice. They joined the Jacoban scene through a financial seminar held at the Forman Family Camp; Zeb is trying to make waves and alliances and Big Power Moves, with varying levels of success. For example, he molded Kelvin to be the family politician from day one, and accordingly when Reuben joined the family Zeb immediately decided he’d be the family priest. (Am I throwing a little Rodrigo Borgia into my headcanon for Zeb? Yes, but rest assured, Elena is the only sim he’d ever want to OTT make out with while on a mini golf double date with one of their children.) Elena, meanwhile, is utterly devoted to her Miracle Baby Reuben--Kimberly wasn’t her first choice for his wife (more on that someday, though I’m not sure if it’ll make it into the story or if I’ll just have to fill you in on all the drama elsewhere) but Elena has decided that she can mold Kimberly into the ideal wife/daughter-in-law.

Amara is their oldest child, but hasn’t met the right sim yet (read: after being the built in sister-mom she doesn’t want to risk having a bunch of kids of her own, so she’s holding out for a while), so she still lives with her parents.

Ella is the youngest daughter, fifth overall child, and is considered the beauty of the family and knows it. She was a Toddler when Reuben was born, and she remembers being what the youngest was like and has never forgiven Reuben for upstaging her. She is very much a Daddy’s princess type and is waiting for for her Prince Charming.

Left to right: Kelvin, Lionel, and Simon

(Kelvin’s traits: Ambitious, cheerful, insider)

Kelvin is a mid-level politician, and accordingly lives in San Myshuno. He interned with well-known Jacoban politician Leon Baxter, an honor that both he and his parents have never and will never stop talking about. His husband, Simon, is quite a bit younger than he is (Kelvin is an Adult while Simon is a Young Adult)--Kelvin once wondered why the Watcher was taking so long to bring him a spouse, but understood as soon as he met Simon! (Read: Kelvin is both socially awkward and full of himself, but Simon is a social climber so he can work with that.) Lionel is their oldest, and Simon is pregnant with their second son.

Left to right: Bradley, Miriam, Ephraim, Prudence, Andrew, and Paul

(Prudence’s traits: Cheerful, family oriented, good)

Prudence is Elena and Zeb’s third child. Her husband, Bradley Forman, co-runs the Forman Family Camp with his father and stepmother, Ted and Rose. Bradley is actually Amara’s age, and Zeb and Ted talked all along about those two getting married someday, but as soon as Prudence became a Teen Bradley decided that she was The One for him. (Kids, run like hell if someone older than you admits to something like that!) They started courting near the end of her Teen years, and were married almost as soon as she became a Young Adult. Prudence is the one person in this family who genuinely cares about Kimberly with no other motives, but she just doesn’t think to question anything about her family or faith. (Yes, she is meant to have very Joe and Kendra energy.) Bradley and Prudence have four children: Ephraim, Paul, and twins Miriam and Andrew.

Left to right: Van, Alonso, Anita, Darrin, and Devon

(Anita’s traits: family oriented, outgoing, materialistic)

Anita is Zeb and Elena’s fourth child. I picture her having very Jana and Jessa energy (but wearing [conservative] pants!) She married Darrin in the middle of her Young Adult years, some time after Darrin lost his first wife--Anita always wanted to live in San Myshuno, and was able to make it happen after meeting Darrin at one of Kelvin’s political events. Van and Devon are her stepsons, and Alonso is Anita and Darrin’s first child. Anita is pregnant with their second. Anita doesn’t visit a whole lot, or keep in contact really, and Kimberly will probably never stop being intimidated by her.

#generation one #character guide #donner family #information

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strawberrysoup · 5 years ago

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Let’s Review || Chapter 16

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn��t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark casual reminder: this story is r o u g h. themes of rape, kidnapping, power imbalances, etc.. This story does not depict healthy or safe relationships. Trigger warning for violence.

Peter Parker was persistent. He had the kind of focus not seen in many teenagers, a dead set determination and a clever tongue to boot. Tony knew his boy hadn't learned his fast-talking ways from Penny, who would rather plow through problems with a baseball bat and her boots than sweet talk her way through anything, and he honestly wished he could've met their aunt May. She must've been one cunning lady to have raised such shit kickers. Especially since Peter, for all of his brutal intelligence, knew when to feign his sister's bambi eyes and play young and dumb.

Unfortunately, Tony had a tendency to overlook the fact that Peter was a genius. It wasn't an exaggeration, it wasn't stretching the truth, Peter had a deadly combination of intelligence and cunning that was far beyond most people’s scope of understanding. Maybe if things had gone different, Penny could’ve explained that Peter was a fucking Slytherin. The kid had a level of ambition and determination that meant his intelligence went from ‘damn he’s smart’ to ‘oh no he’s smart’.

It was a thin line that Penny had learned to walk quite well, but that Tony wasn't quite aware of. If he knew how fast the teenager's mind worked, he would've waited to let Peter see Penny. Instead, he agreed that they would have dinner on the soldier's floor. The second they stepped off the elevator and through the door to the apartment, Peter had already begun calculating. Steve clocked it within minutes, the way the teenager’s eyes scanned.

Peter knew without a doubt that he was the safest person in the tower at any given time, both literally and figuratively. JARVIS had eyes on him every second of the day, regardless of privacy protocols and dark rooms. If Peter was in the tower, JARVIS was watching and entirely prepared to obliterate any danger in over ten miles, if Tony's spiel could be believed. If anyone decided to try to hurt Peter, they would literally be dead in seconds.

He also currently possessed at least 90% of Tony Stark's devotion. The man was admittedly a creep, but he was a very powerful and very dangerous creep. Peter had seen the kind of men who skittered away under the weight of Tony's glare, who were more afraid of Tony Stark than of their mobster bosses. People were scared of the power Tony had and that included every person in the tower— the soldiers were not exempt.

The soldiers were not exempt and Peter was savagely aware of his status in comparison to theirs.

And Penny wasn't right. Penny was good at hiding her distress she always had been. Even when all of her loved ones were dying around her she'd kept her head on straight. Peter couldn't remember seeing her falter even once when she knew he was watching. But she was not okay and he noticed immediately and he did not like it.

She'd greeted him when he and Tony came in. She'd hugged him tight and kissed his cheek and whispered she loved him. Tony had quickly inserted himself, wrapping around the pair and cooing at them both like they were puppies. Steve felt his jaw tick; Peter was subconsciously checking her for injuries, tucking Penny as close to his chest as he could and engulfing her small frame while his eyes scanned their surroundings.

It was strange to see a place so heavily influenced by Penny's tastes. They'd never had money before, never had the opportunity for Penny to so any sort of decorating, but the soldier's living room was decorated exactly to her dreams. There were plants everywhere, a giant hammock hung from the ceiling in front of the windows right next to an oversized beanbag chair. There was a delicate looking shelf with a vast array of yarn. It looked green and warm and there was a fireplace under the tv that he knew she'd love once winter hit.

Because they were still gonna be there in the winter. Peter understood that, to some degree. That it had been early May when they were first taken, he'd been about to graduate. Penny would turn 25 in August and he would turn 18 in September. And they'd be in the tower. They'd be in the tower for their birthdays and for Halloween and Thanksgiving and Hanukkah. Unless something happened.

The longer he watched Penny interact with the soldiers, the more Peter decided that something needed to happen.

He hadn’t seen a happy or pleased look on Penny’s face since the day they’d been kidnapped. There was no telling if Tony or the others could tell, but he got the feeling they couldn't. To be fair, she had a bit of a resting bitch face and it was difficult for some people to distinguish between ‘that’s just how my face looks’ and ‘if one more bitch throws a stone in this glass house I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it’. Even Peter could admit the differences were subtle; it came down to a slight dimple in her cheek caused when she grit her teeth especially hard on the left side, the way her nose twitched when someone said something especially fucking dumb. Usually when she spent so long looking so pissed off, she’d come home from the night shift with a bag of weed the moment she could afford it.

But the way she looked now wasn’t… anything Peter had ever seen before. Happiness was easy to identify if you knew her and he’d seen what she looked like two minutes before she started screaming in anger. He could remember the several times the pair of them had been in some sort of custody related court hearing and he knew what fear looked like on Penny’s face too. It wasn’t fear, though, the expression on Penny’s face; it wasn’t the fear he’d witnessed on her face when she’d been so, so afraid that she wouldn’t be put under aunt May and uncle Ben’s custody. It wasn’t even the same expression she’d made the day they were deciding on whether or not he’d be able to stay under her custody after aunt May died, but fear was the closest thing he could compare it too.

It was crushing to witness. Penny’s natural tan had gone pasty white, the blood drained from her features. Her hair was a frizzed up mess, meaning she’d been pulling at it constantly for hours. Her eyes were bloodshot and constantly scanning and she was staying within arm’s reach of the soldiers at all times. He almost wondered if it was some stupid rule they’d given her like the ones Tony gave him sometimes; arbitrary orders just to see if he’d follow the rules properly.

But the soldiers were acting incredibly casual and simply accepting the closeness like it was a gift. Every time she brushed near them, Peter could see the way their faces would light up. Both Steve and Bucky were unnecessarily attractive, problematically pretty and when they were happy— well, they were really attractive when they were happy. Steve looked like a golden retriever, exhilarated and bright. Bucky was a harder read but even his eyes were softer, his stance more relaxed.

“Food will be up soon, how about we pick the movie?” Steve was facing the TV as he spoke, remote in one hand while the other smoothed over Penny’s back, “anybody have any suggestions?”

“Not Star Wars,” Tony spoke up, tone light as he put his arms around Peter from behind, kissing the side of the teenager’s head, “we’ve been marathoning them for days and there’s still more.”

“Star Wars is great,” he automatically argued, forcing his body not to relax into the hold.

“What about a fantasy film instead of sci-fi then? JARVIS, could you show us options?”

The men all bickered casually over their options, but Peter turned his head to Penny and spoke in Hebrew, “what’s wrong Penina?”

The words seemed to startle her out of a trance and she turned to look at him, confusion in her eyes; he very rarely used her Hebrew name. It was common for Jewish kids to have a Hebrew name tucked away, the one that families generally used versus the English name they used by day. Penina Shoshana was her full name, her grandfather had been Penuel and was the reason Penny and Peter both had P names. Shoshana was named for her father, Ephraim.

“Nothing my love,” she answered quietly, eyelashes fluttering slightly and he could see the shine of tears in her eyes, “nothing is wrong.”

Peter squirmed out of Tony’s arms and walked to the couch, grabbing her arm and pulling her down onto the same cushion as him. He wrapped himself around her like an octopus, sending Steve a dark look when the blond looked back curiously, and tugged her closer.

“Don’t lie, please tell me what’s wrong?”

“Palti Chayim,” Penny rarely used his Hebrew name, only when she was chastising him, but it was all she could choke out, her eyes so full of fear, “don’t look at him like that, don’t make them angry.”

“But—”

“Hey, we’re feeling a little left out here,” Tony plopped onto the couch directly next to him and wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders, “I’m surprised you both know Hebrew so well, you must’ve learned it as kids?”

Peter tried not to grit his teeth; he was trying to have a serious conversation with his sister but if he didn’t answer Tony promptly and with the correct attitude he’d get called bratty and get threatened with a punishment. Penny was in a fragile state— Peter literally didn’t know how she’d react to him being threatened right in front of her. He’d never seen her like this before, he was missing key variables.

“Penny knows it better than me,” he answered, “I learned when I was little but Penny spoke it enough that it kept me from forgetting it all once we moved in with aunt May. Penina, please tell me what’s going on? What did they do to you?”

“Penina, is that what Penny is short for?” Bucky questioned, coming to sit far too close to them on the opposite side of the couch from Tony, “I thought it was Penelope?”

“Jewish kids have Hebrew names most of the time,” Peter forced himself to bite out, “They chose Penina first with Penny for a nickname, Penelope was just an easy derivative for an English name.”

“Peter you must let it go,” Penny’s voice almost startled him, especially coming from so close to his ear.

“I’m not letting it go! What did they do to you?”

Steve was watching him. The blond man was careful and incredibly discreet but Peter felt the tingle run up his spine. There was a dangerous energy behind the muscle bound giant, he retained the golden retriever essence but there was red behind it. Penny immediately clocked it as well.

“Do not speak in such a tone, Palti,” Penny’s tone was more controlled than Peter’s was but the panic was still there and she followed it up with a string of words he vaguely recognized from the Torah, mumbled so fast under her breath he couldn’t make out the individual words.

“Penny,” her head turned, nervous brown eyes landing on Steve.

It was probably a good thing that Peter couldn’t tell what was going on in her head. The fear she’d experienced for 7 and a half fucking hours of being alone with Steve. A man that she witnessed torture another human being without hesitation just 24 hours ago. He would’ve lost it and his captors would realize he was far more like Penny than they could’ve imagined.

“You need to speak a language we can understand, your tone is making us nervous,” the man’s words were calm and his tone was even.

There wasn’t a hint of agitation that Peter could hear but Penny’s spine stiffened and she nodded immediately, lips pressed tightly shut.

“Now, what movie should we watch?”

“They hurt you, didn’t they? Tell me, I’ll tell Tony, he’ll take you from them!”

“Palti Chayim, stop it!” An accent laced Penny’s voice, audible beneath her panic, “Now! You have to stop!”

“Peter,” Tony’s hand casually found the back of his neck, fingers massaging into the tissue gently but pointedly, “between the three of us, we know at least 10 different languages. You can pick any of those, but you need to pick one we understand.”

The order raced across his skin like a spiderweb, chills chasing down his spine at the nearly tangible sensation. Disobeying direct orders from Tony was one of Peter’s least favourite things to do, both because it resulted in a punishment 9 times out of 10 and because it meant Tony would be upset with him. He hated making Tony upset, despite everything.

Once again his brain repeated what he’d been thinking for days and days, ‘if you just hadn’t of hurt Penny, if you’d left her out of this, why did you have to do this, it didn’t have to be this way’. How was he supposed to deal with such an offense, the blatant disregard for his sister’s life. Penny was the single most important person in Peter’s life but he was just supposed to deal with how she’d been treated? Like an abused fucking dog. Passed off to whatever schlep would take her, beaten into obedience and expected to be kind and loving and loyal and beaten again every time she wasn’t.

“They hurt her,” he snapped, eyes locked on where Bucky was sitting so close to her, “they had to have, there’s no other reason Penny would be acting like this!”

“Peter—” Bucky cut Penny off before she could finish, standing up with her in his arms and taking just a couple of steps away from the couch.

“Hush, babydoll,” the way the man arranged her in his arms bothered him, the way he rolled her head against his shoulder and tilted his head down to shadow her face. Who the fuck did he think he was, touching his sister like that?

“Peter, I want you to listen to me,” Tony took his chin in hand and turned his face, “Penny has not been hurt, she was punished for acting out last night. She wasn’t hurt at all.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Peter snapped to his feet, heart racing under his ribs, “Y-You think whatever they did to her… was okay? S-She’s traumatized! I’ve never seen her so terrified in my entire fucking life, what the fuck Tony!?”

“Baby boy if you don’t calm down immediately there will be consequences. You’re getting your sister worked up over a punishment that should’ve been put to bed the moment it was over. You’ve earned yourself a couple of punishments yourself, haven’t you?” There was a cold calmness in the man’s voice, at war with the fire in his eyes.

Part of him wanted to believe that Tony couldn’t possibly mean what he was saying. Penny was broken, something was wrong. How could he say that, as if she deserved to be traumatized for whatever stupid behavior she’d displayed.

It would’ve been okay, maybe, for her to have gotten a spanking like he had before. It wasn’t a lasting punishment, it wouldn’t follow her in her nightmares. It certainly wouldn’t bother her while she was awake—he’d bet Penny would chew literal glass before allowing herself to act like she was in pain from something like a spanking. Whatever this was, it had changed her entire demeanor into something he wasn’t entirely sure he recognized. It wasn’t just some punishment for misbehaving, they’d hurt her and he didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care.

Peter turned to look where Penny had managed to wriggle her way onto her feet despite Bucky’s arms remaining loosely around her, swallowing heavily, “I’m going to get us out of here, Penina. I promise Penny, whatever I have to do to get us away, I’m gonna do it.”

He didn’t notice Tony’s phone go off hardly a second later, but he did feel the way Tony’s hand closed over the back of his neck. The pressure steadily increased until he found himself squeezing his eyes shut, apprehension tangling its way down his nervous system.

“I know that you were told to speak a different language—twice, baby. You deliberately disobeyed. You’re not going anywhere, sweet boy, there’s no getting away,” Tony’s voice vibrated through his entire body, his knees trembled, “and you should know better than to be acting out like this.”

Already weak kneed, Peter was quick to collapse under the weight of Tony’s hand. The landing was jarring and painful but Tony immediately stepped up closer and pulled him to lean his weight against his legs, cheek pressed firmly to the hollow in the older man’s hip by a tight grip on his hair. Peter managed to tilt his head back just enough to see the way Tony looked down at him, the stern expression on his face.

It only lasted a second or two. At least, that’s what it felt like in Peter’s eyes. One moment, Tony was staring down at him, flexing the hand clenching his hair and the next he was just gone. All 125lbs of Penny had bulldozed him, shoulder finding prime real estate exactly where his sternum ended and the fragile connection of his false ribs became the most tenuous. There was a horribly awkward inhale followed by a pained wheeze. Tony stumbled and hit the ground and then everyone moved at the same time.

Penny darted forward to grab the injured man, hands already tucked into fists as she landed on her knees at his side. Before she could enact anymore acts of brutality Bucky and Steve had burst forward. Steve hauled Penny up and over his shoulder in less than a second, completely immune to her screaming obscenities. Bucky followed Tony to the floor and carefully felt out the prone man’s ribs, flesh fingers gliding over bruising skin as delicately as possible. He couldn’t find any fractures, nothing was obvious other than the abrasions, but they’d still have to call Bruce down. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too disturbed by the late hour. Or the multiple house calls in one day (to the same floor even, they were fucked).

“Penny, babydoll—twice in two days?” Steve sighed heavily as he manipulated her carefully in his arms, her own pinned to her sides.

“I’ll fucking kill him, I don’t care!” She screamed, tears of fear and rage slipping from her eyes, “Don’t you ever touch him! I’ll fucking die first, Stark! I’ll kill you myself!”

Penny’s knee slipped from Steve’s grip and she immediately drove it up straight into his face. She hit the ground full force, back taking the entire impact and knocking the breath out of her. Steve stumbled back a step or two before going through the coffee table, smashing it to bits while blood spewed everywhere.

Recovering from her rough landing took more time than she’d anticipated, but Penny managed to weakly grasp the leg of the coffee table, broken off in Steve’s spill, on her way back to her feet.

Peter’s eyes went almost impossibly wide at the sight; Penny had played softball since she could walk. She’d been such a good batter that had she finished high school, she likely would’ve gotten a full ride scholarship for the position. She hit harder than any other player in the state, harder than the majority of the baseball teams’ players in the area. Her wrist rolled and the wood spun around her hand before coming to rest in her palm again.

Bucky didn’t even really see it coming, but Peter watched it happen in slow motion. The man’s head turned one frame at a time while Penny adjusted her grip and wound up. He just barely managed to raise his metal arm in time to deflect the tail end of the hit.

Steve and Tony couldn’t remember the last time they’d seen Bucky hit the ground like a sack of bricks. A completely uncontrolled fall, head bouncing off the luckily carpeted floor. Tony would’ve been next, had Steve not gathered his bearings with an unsettling swiftness. He rose to his feet, blood pouring from his nose, and grabbed Penny from behind. It was fortunate that by now she’d run through her repertoire of bear hug hold escapes because she didn’t try anything that managed to surprise him, maintaining a carefully balanced amount of pressure and support.

“Shhhh, babydoll, you’re gonna go to sleep now,” Steve’s hand closed over her throat, thumb covering her pulse with a careful pressure, “just go to sleep baby, we’ll take care of this.”

“D-Don’t hurt her,” Peter felt a panic attack coming on with rapid speed, twisting in his chest and knotting around his heart, “please, please—”

“It’s okay, Peter, you don’t have to worry, Penny’s safe,” the blond’s words were gentle despite the situation, despite the fact that Penny went limp in his arms within seconds and his eyes locked on the boy’s face, “all we want is for you both to be safe and happy and we’re going to figure out how to make that work. It’s our fault that everything’s been so difficult on you both, but we’ll fix it. Just give us a chance sweetheart, I promise we’re going to fix it.”

There was a shocking amount of meaning portrayed in so few sentences. They were going to figure it out, make it work. They were going to fix it and Peter had no idea what that entailed and no idea what impact it would have on his sister but he understood now. He understood why Penny looked so exhaustingly terrified; Steve Rogers was covered in blood, still actively bleeding while his nose swelled and his eyes bruised. His lover was knocked out cold on the floor, next to one of his best friends who still gasped for every other breath.

The golden retriever of a man transformed into something unseemly. There was a darkness in his eyes, a sharpness to his face, and a cunning cut to his stare. He was terrifying in a way that Tony couldn’t emulate, one that caused a primal sense of fear to build in the back of one's skull.

But Peter Parker was a fucking genius and if these bastards thought for a moment they could outsmart him they were wrong. Because if you gathered all that determination and all that ruthlessness together, it collected into a powder keg. So maybe he was the powder keg, not Penny. Penny was just the match and Peter was the one about to explode.

*edited 10/6/2020 — adjusted dates

#steve rogers x oc x bucky barnes #steve rogers x oc #bucky barnes x oc #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark!tony stark #dark!mcu #let's review #let's review chapter 16

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therequiemforthelost-archive · 4 years ago

Note

I did this to your sister, so do 'em all with Lyon :>

I scream--

1. Acts like they’re dying when they have a cold.

Neither really do? While Amanda would like to think Lyon is above doing that, he has pretended a few times just to have Amanda fawn over him.

2. Gets mad at the TV and throws the remote.

Modern AU. And No, TVs are expensive and neither get mad enough to do something like that.

3. Gets the worst road rage.

Again, Modern AU. And it’s Amanda. She is 5′3″ of pure rage when there are idiots out on the road.

4. Spends too much time in the bathroom on their phone.

Y’all already know. Anyway, Amanda again! Youtube man...

5. Packs the whole closet for an overnight trip.

Neither really. Both are pretty practical!

6. Hates the in-laws.

Again, neither!

7. Hits the snooze button…11 times.

Amanda, 100%. She really hates getting up in the morning.

8. Makes the other late for work.

Lyon, actually. He hates when the two of them have to part ways for the day.

9. Uses the television as a babysitter.

Television? Books are the babysitter.

10. Takes in the stray dog.

Amanda. Always Amanda.

11. Suggests a 3am trip to McDonald’s.

Lyon, surprisingly. He stays up really late and doesn’t feel like cooking and doesn’t want to drive to McDonald’s by himself.

12. Leaves their shoes out for the other to trip over.

Neither. They both make it a point to put their shoes away properly (mostly to spite Ephraim).

13. Can’t make up their mind when it comes to dinner.

AMANDA. “What should we eat?” “I, uh... Don’t know?”

14. Needs to be reminded of all their appointments.

Amanda. But she leaves little notes for herself! She’ll also leave notes for Lyon even though he doesn’t need them as much.

15. Bribes the other into doing chores, getting out of the house…and taking a shower.

Amanda. Lyon is such a homebody. Amanda is the reason why he enjoys taking walks so much now.

16. Picks the movies.

They take turns! Lyon is a fan of horror and will sometimes choose them because of how much Amanda will cling to him. Amanda usually will choose animated films and sometimes a cheesy romance movie like 27 Dresses.

17. Takes the safety steps when building a pillow fort.

Lyon. Amanda kiiiiinda cares about the structure but it’s Lyon that makes sure it doesn’t fall on them.

18. Kisses the other’s injuries better.

Lyon. Definitely Lyon. He’d do anything to make Amanda smile if she’s injured.

19. Is addicted to angry birds, game of war, candy crush, temple run, or flappy bird.

Neither are addicted, but Amanda does have a few games on her phone for killing time for things like waiting in line.

20. Kills the spiders.

Amanda is 100% terrified of spiders. Lyon catches them in a cup and takes them outside.

21. Hogs the blankets.

Amanda. She needs so many blankets. But that’s okay, it gives Lyon the excuse to cuddle her at night.

22. Takes pranks too far.

Neither is the pranking type and they’ve maybe bamboozled Ephraim once, and that was into studying (which Ephraim would probably consider too far).

23. Makes the dirty jokes.

Amanda has let one or two slip under her breath just to see Lyon turn red and try to shush her.

24. Keeps a piggy bank.

Amanda! She’s really big on saving spare change in case of emergencies.

25. Has no problem having ice cream for breakfast.

Amanda. Lyon too, but only sometimes (aka when Amanda goads him into it).

26. Gets a tattoo when they’re drunk.

Both are passed out before they can even do something like that (if they even drink at all).

27. Trips over their own feet.

AMANDA. No matter what, all of my S/Is are klutzes to some degree.

28. Makes the other go for a walk.

Again, Amanda is the one who makes them both go for walks! But it’s not really a forced thing, it’s something they enjoy doing together.

29. Whines until they get what they want.

Neither, but Lyon pouts a little sometimes (which makes Amanda IMMEDIATELY cave).

30. Tries to act tough but really isn’t.

Amanda is the one who puts on the brave face the most often, even though she’s petite ad couldn’t hurt a fly unless she was using magic.

31. Talks the most, says the least.

Amanda can tend to chatter for hours on end if possible. Can and will talk about absolutely nothing important (well to her it isn’t important, but Lyon loves listening to her talk about things she likes so, it’s fine).

32. Talks the least, says the most.

Lyon. He makes it a point to try and make the things he says as meaningful as possible (unless he’s flustered then lmao he’s a mess).

#ask meme #ship: shy nerds #my demon king #parental figure!#camellias-and-coriander

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airlock · 5 years ago

Text

alright folks, I’m back for more of those results from the anniversary poll; once again, I’ll be counting them as properly as I can because IS sure as hell can’t, and in the process, I will also judge whether the fans have spoken good choices

this time, we’ll be counting and criticizing the top 15 dancing duos! (disclaimer: I don’t dance. I still will attempt to comment on everyone else’s dancing)

#1: BERKUT & RINEA (9313 votes)

tumblr won’t let me simply put two images next to each other in a text post, and I can’t be fucked to put them together in such a way that doesn’t make them un-transparent, so I’ll be putting them together with a simple color background; it’s a spot uglier and I will probably fail to spot some wonky pixels, but c’est la vie

anyways, I don’t like it, but like Byleth before, this is a natural afk pick; they’re some of a very small subset of characters in the series that we actually see dancing with each other, in a proper cutscene. a cutscene that, in fact, basically exists to tell us that they look good dancing, so one’s not wrong to vote for them here, I suppose. there are, in fact, a lot of people in this world who are fantastic performers and also would throw their spouses in a fire if they figured it’d make them feel good about themselves again

#2: OLIVIA & INIGO (2474 votes, including Laslow)

this is actually sweet, though, mother-son dancing duo and all. one thing I do have to mention, though, is that you’d have to hope that our hypothetical dance-off was announced plenty of time in advance, there’s so much that could bring a performance between them crashing and burning if they don’t hash it all out for themselves first

#3: EDELGARD & DIMTIRI (1871 votes across all appearances, possibly with uncounted change)

they sure do look fantastic, dancing with other people with their backs completely to each other,

might as well stuff this strangely popular nothing-of-a-choice with a little additional note: these paired votes are going to be especially harrowing on the split vote front, because any combination of two characters who both have split votes means they can be combined with each other in 4 different ways. like, most people probably won’t combine, say, someone’s PoR self with someone else’s RD self, but properly unsplitting votes in this is going to be a lot more of a challenge. and that’s to say nothing of byleth; there is a whopping 16 different ways to combine Byleth and any one Three Houses character

ETA: I. completely forgot about the thing where edelgard tried to teach dimitri to dance when they were young. okay, that kind of tracks. but also like, whomst the fuck got the idea that whatever they were doing there was building up to elegance

#4: ELIWOOD & NINIAN (1495 votes)

I’m getting the lingering feeling that this fandom is a lot better at pointing out good dancers than good teachers-

this one’s another amazing pick; sure, not one you have to think a lot about, since they’re oft-shipped and one of them is an actual dancer -- but the beauty of it is that even the ostensible weak link still has much offer, between his flawless elegance and a love of dancing that we at the very least knows is in his lineage

let’s just hope eliwood would still prefer to keep the “special dances” private though-

#5: BYLETH & CLAUDE (1163 votes across all appearances, possibly with uncounted change)

speaking of the ballroom cutscene again, man, Claude sure has left an impression on us all back there-

still, we don’t actually see the dance, and it’s probably better that we don’t -- I wouldn’t bet that Byleth is any more expressive with their moves than they are with their face. there’s really not very much of a reason to vote for this other than wanting to insert yourself into a situation where one dances with Claude. and I mean, mood, but let’s focus, please-

#6: OLIVIA & AZURA (996 votes)

this is just a copout, though. this is like if I asked you about the best food in your town and you just told me that technically Gordon Ramsey was born there. ooo, hot take alert, two unrelated professional performers can probably put on a decent performance together!

at least their theme colors together make the trans flag, so I’ll give all 996 of you that much-

#7: ALM & CELICA (990 votes)

was there like an actual thing where they dance, or were people picking this just because they’re good-looking and married? because like, in the absence of evidence, I cannot and will not assume that Alm is a remotely passable dancer.

in fact, here’s the drill: for this section, I can’t actually blame people if they’re just hornyvoting -- being hot is kind of a point-plus for this -- but I can and will blame them if they’re voting for their ships with no regard as to whether they’d look good dancing. so, accusations of hornyvoting shall make way -- to accusations of shipvoting! I believe that’s also going to happen on the other paired category, even if that one is a lot less about the chemistry (presumably)

#8: NILS & NINIAN (884 votes)

this kind of a copout again, but it’s also a family dance again, BUT most importantly one of these two is not actually a dancer. like, sure, he plays the flute, but this isn’t a flute-and-dance duo poll, it’s a dance poll! although I mean, it does mean he must have a good notion of rhythm, and from the sprites we can definitely tell he’s got a spring in his step when he plays, and Ninian can teach him too, so... maybe? oh well, it’d be cute to see them try

#9: SIGURD & DEIRDRE (790 votes)

eh, I’m gonna call shipvoting on this one too. like, sure, they’re both hot and they’re in love with each other, but even if you leave aside the likelihood that Deirdre was raised too shelthered to have danced like ever, any dancing they’d know of would be totally incompatible, considering their entirely distinct backgrounds.

I suppose I will lend credence to the idea that Sigurd’s at least experienced as far as dancers go; it’s not like he was studying back at that academy,

#10: BYLETH & EDELGARD (735 votes across all appearances, possibly with uncounted change)

since most of the votes on this are for post-timeskip edelgard, this appears to be unrelated to the ballroom scene, for once

that said, I can’t think of anything to this other than regular shipvoting -- and not even shipvoting of much quality, because besides the above-mentioned on whether byleth can dance, I have a nagging feeling that the kind of dancing Edelgard would genuinely be interested in would be strictly for fun, without any sort of elegance or other things that an outside participant would enjoy watching

#11: TSUBASA & CAEDA & KIRIA & THARJA (687 votes)

don’t let the fact that I found a transparent tsubasa but not a transparent kiria distract you from the absolute trainwreck that resulted from the naming scheme used in FEH for TMS#FE characters crashing into the notation I’m using for the duos here- ahem, well, please be distracted from both of those things, anyway

assuming this is just between the two mirage users and we’re not talking about the most awkward foursome in history, well... I once again have not played TMS#FE, so uh, they sure are both pop idols and I think people ship them, I guess?

#12: MARTH & CAEDA (596 votes across all appearances)

I mean... there’s a lot that can be said about their individual qualities and their dynamics, but I have absolutely no idea how any of it would translate into a ballroom. and if we’re any inclined to believe that skill with words and skill with bodily expression tend to be opposite skillsets, then theyyyy are both screwed.

#13: PENT & LOUISE (508 votes)

I get it, I do. they both look sparkly beautiful and haute and classy and like everything around them is prettier for them being there. but let me categorically tell you that neither of these two dance.

neither of these two dance because one, Pent is an absolute potato, and two, Pent specifically chose Louise because she didn’t try to impress him with a dance.

#14: SAUL & DOROTHY (495 votes)

regardless of any merits they may or may not have, this is 100% just to get them into heroes, isn’t it. alright, I can respect that

but as for whether they can dance... sure, maybe? Dorothy is full of hidden talents, and Saul has probably tried to dance enough times to guide her along at least

#15: CORRIN & AZURA (476 votes across all genders)

alas, there’s no way this can work out, because we all know corrin has two left feet.

thank you, thank you! I’ll be here every night!

HONORABLE MENTIONS (highest vote in their continuity, without reaching top 15)

Ike & Soren (344 votes across all appearances): disappointingly, of the stark few Tellius pairs that got on this list, the best-ranked of them is 100% blatant shipvoting. I mean, sure, Ike’s got moves, but Soren?? at least vote Ike & Ranulf you cowards

Eirika & Ephraim (323 votes): first, we’d have to extensively train Ephraim on how to not make this experience entirely embarassing for Eirika, but that can be said of most anything they could do together in public-

Triandra & Plumeria (280 votes): yep, still unfunny. and now all of you 280 assholes are stretching it

Ferdinand & Lorenz (95 votes, possibly with uncounted change): I’m just mentioning them because I’m one of these 95 people. and so should more of you have been! don’t you know elegance when it’s right in front of you? huh? huhhh????

and that’s it, you’ve endured me attempting to talk about dancing for several minutes when I have no knowledge or experience on the subject! I eagerly await your input in my replies and reblogs, especially from those of you who do dance.

#anniversary poll critique series #my stupid text posts #Fire Emblem is tagged in this post #Fire Emblem Heroes is tagged in this post

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shapeshiftersandfire · 5 years ago

Text

the little orange rabbit from tolerant ephraim au, with @ssttitdramon

They left him alone with her. His parents and grandmother had gone out, to run one errand or another. Harold was out, where Ephraim didn’t know, and Ephraim… Ephraim was home alone, taking care of his infant sister, who can do little more than cry and wail. It’s not a riveting conversation, and it’s decidedly one-sided.

And it’s giving Ephraim a headache.

He’s trying to work on his homework, but Sarah’s incessant wailing from the next room is distracting him. He keeps staring at the same problem, trying to remember where he left off, but each time he looks up as Sarah’s wailing starts from a high note and peters out, he looks down and forgets what he’d been doing.

At first, he lets her cry. She’ll wear herself out eventually, he thinks, he’s sure, but an hour goes by, and then two, and Sarah still has yet to stop crying.

At that point, Ephraim begrudgingly throws down his pencil with half a mind to storm into Sarah’s room, though he hardly know what he’s supposed to say to an infant who can hardly understand him, and listens. He’s heard Sarah cry before, and Harold—he was but four years old when Harold was born, but he remembers when Harold cried, it was for a variety of reasons: he was hungry, he was tired, he needed a diaper change.

Ephraim quickly rules out Sarah being tired. If she were, she would have gone to sleep already.

Which leaves two options, only one of which is greatly preferable to the other.

He doesn’t know how Mother did it.

How she still does.

(Although he’s noticed she seems to want to do it decidedly less.)

(He hasn’t quite grasped why, although he thinks it has something to do with the way Sarah looks. She’s noticeably paler than the rest of the family. Her hair is lighter, almost white and her eyes have yet to change color. They’re still a pale, pale blue.)

Hmm. Ephraim pushes his chair away and goes to Sarah’s room. She cries when he walks in, as though she doesn’t hear him over the sound of her own wailing, but the moment he appears in her vision, she stops. Almost instantly.

Ephraim glowers at her. “What do you want?” he asks.

As he expected, Sarah says nothing. She stares up at him, quietly.

“All right, then,” he says, and turns to leave.

And immediately Sarah’s crying starts up again.

Brat! He grinds his teeth. That’s all it is, she’s just being a brat. She wants attention. That’s all.

But do infants understand that kind of concept? He’s not sure.

Maybe she’s hungry then?

Ephraim goes downstairs to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle and heads back up, but when he offers it to Sarah she makes no move to take it. She stares up at him with curious wonder, ignoring the bottle Ephraim holds in front of her face.

He frowns deeply, pulls it away, then offers it again, but still Sarah stares up at him instead. Ephraim pulls the bottle away again, feeling frustration well in his chest. “What do you want?” he asks, and not without and edge to his voice. But instead of looking afraid, as he might have expected, Sarah offers him something that looks like the beginning of a smile.

Is she—Smiling? At him? Ephraim reels. Had Harold ever smiled at him when he was Sarah’s age? Or had he been so disinterested in holding his baby brother he hadn’t noticed? It must have been the latter. He doesn’t remember Harold ever smiling at him the way Sarah does.

“No,” Ephraim mutters to himself, turning away from the crib. “No, I’m not doing that, no—” But Sarah starts crying again when he turns away, vanishes from her field of vision. He groans in frustration. Fine! He all but slams the bottle down on the dresser, not that it does anything to interrupt Sarah’s crying even in the slightest, and goes to the edge of the crib. This time, Sarah’s crying only slows, but doesn’t stop, not entirely.

This time, she stares up at him with tears in her eyes. Ephraim feels a twinge of something in his chest.

He has half a mind to walk away and let her cry, just so he can finish his homework, but the way she looks at him…

I can’t leave her like that. What would Father say?

(Mother wouldn’t care. But Father? He loved Sarah enough for both of them, and then some.)

So it’s with great reluctance and wild uncertainty that Ephraim scoops his little sister up into his arms and holds her against his chest, the way Mother does, or so he tries. He’s not sure if he’s doing it right—he’s got Sarah’s head propped up in the crook of one arm, and the other arm he has curled underneath her—but he’s not immediately afraid he’s going to drop her, so that’s something.

And what’s more, is once Sarah’s in Ephraim’s arms, she’s quiet. Not another peep comes out of her, not even the threat of more crying. She’s perfectly quiet, looking up at with with big, pale eyes. Ephraim has the immediate urge to put her down, something about a small child staring at him like that is unnerving and he’s not prepared for it in the least, but he doesn’t. He holds onto her, and stares at her as equally curious as Sarah.

Those eyes, the color, it’s just like Mother’s. Her eyes are a pale color Ephraim hasn’t yet decided is gray or blue or a combination of both. Not that he’s had much time to figure it out; between the way her eyes change in certain lighting and the way she doesn’t let him hold her gaze long. He thinks she might be ashamed of her eyes, but he doesn’t quite understand why. Maybe it’s for the same reason she doesn’t want much to do with Sarah?

She has Mother’s eyes. That’s undeniable.

(And on the brighter side, there’s no indication that Sarah needs to be changed.)

(She’s lonely, then, Ephraim concludes. He’s not sure what to do with that.)

It’s a moment of quiet, as he and his sister stare at each other, until Sarah tentatively reaches for Ephraim’s tie. He gently closes his hand around her small hand and draws it away from his tie. “No, no,” he says gently, and it met with a gentle stream of babbling from Sarah.

She sucks at her bottom lip, looking up at him expectantly. She wiggles, just a little, but it’s enough to send a bolt of fear through Ephraim’s heart. What if he drops her—but Sarah settles down and returns to quietly staring at him.

Ephraim blinks slowly. He can’t possibly put Sarah back in her crib now, she’ll cry if he leaves her, and she won’t stop unless he’s there in the room with her, where she can see him. He’ll have to take her back to his room with him.

With another sigh and a slight readjustment of his hold on Sarah, Ephraim makes the short trip back to his room. His heart races each time Sarah wiggles in his arms, as though she’s trying to get a good look at everything in the hallway. It’s not spectacular to Ephraim, but to an infant who hasn’t seen very much of the house, it’s a whole new expanse in her small, small world.

And, evidently, his room is the most fascinating thing she’s seen, despite it being nearly identical in structure and decoration to her own. She starts babbling, nonsensical and incomprehensible, the moment Ephraim walks into his room, and doesn’t stop, even when he’s gotten her set up on a thick blanket on the floor. He sits back at his desk and watches her a moment, squirming on the blanket, waving her hands at things only she can see, kicking at the blanket.

Ephraim feels a twinge of something else.

She’s almost…endearing.

(He almost sees why Father loves her. And Harold.)

He watches her a moment longer before he’s content she can’t get into any trouble lying on the blanket, and returns to his homework. At last he’s able to get through more than one problem; when he glances over at Sarah, he more than once finds her having paused in her shuffling to stare at him with wide, curious eyes. It lasts only a moment before she’s back to staring at the ceiling and pawing at the air.

And then, as Ephraim gets overly absorbed in his work and finds himself nearing the end, he hears something new. The sound of fabric swishing on fabric, something heavier than a blanket but lighter than Sarah being dragged along the floor.

Ephraim looks up, and what does he find in Sarah’s hand, being shuffled around the blanket by the ear but his old stuffed rabbit, an orange thing with one eye he’d stashed away under his bed but a year ago.

You’re growing up now, Mother had said, looking at the rabbit with an even look of disdain. You’ll have to leave such childish things behind.

Now, in all fairness, Mother had never suggested what he do with the rabbit, so in what Ephraim considered a minor act of defiance, he’d hidden the rabbit away under his bed where she wouldn’t find him. She never looked under the beds, anyhow. Sylvie had found it once when she’d gone through his room and all it had taken was one look at the horror on his face for her to promise not to say anything to Delanie.

And so the rabbit, named Cowslip after the small red flowers he’d seen in a book once, remained tucked away under his bed, where Ephraim could reach him if need be but where Mother would never find him. Now, one orange ear is gripping in Sarah’s tiny hand, and he’s being jerked around across the blanket. Ephraim watches a moment, filled with equal parts shock and anger and the urge to snatch Cowslip away from Sarah—How could you treat him like that?—but then as she heavily pats Cowslip’s head it occurs to him (at the same time that he reminds himself Sarah is a baby and doesn’t know any better) that she…likes him? When she manages to get get a good enough hold on the rabbit, she hugs him by the neck, looking up at Ephraim with a smile.

Ephraim finds himself smiling back. He abandons his homework and settles himself down on the blanket beside Sarah and looks the rabbit over. For the year it spent under his bed, gathering dust, it still looks as good as the day Ephraim put him away. “He’s still as handsome isn’t he?” he asks, more to himself than Sarah, who laughs as Ephraim talks to her, and clutches the rabbit tighter.

“What?” he asks, as Sarah laughs again. “Is my voice funny to you?”

Sarah laughs some more, and Ephraim watches her, fighting the smile he feels blossoming on his face. He lets it slip, just a little. Sarah smiles wider. And then she holds out the rabbit to Ephraim. He hesitates to take it from her. It’s been a year since he touched it. What if Mother came through the door now and saw him with it? What would she say?

Ephraim frowns (which Sarah evidently finds funny, judging by the way she giggles). Mother says I’m supposed to be growing up now. Well, then I can make my own decisions! And he happily takes the rabbit, who, after a year under the bed is still as soft as Ephraim remembers, and waves it around in front of Sarah. She smiles happily, reaching for Cowslip’s soft nose.

“Guess what I used to call him?” Ephraim asks, shaking the rabbit back and forth, letting his ears flop around. This time when Sarah laughs, Ephraim lets himself smile. Her eyes aren’t even on him anymore, they’re all for the rabbit. She laughs and reaches for Cowslip each time Ephraim waves him around. It’s almost…endearing.

“Cowslip,” Ephraim says, and lowers the rabbit to rub his nose against Sarah’s.

Sarah’s still laughing, even as she wriggles and reaches for the little orange rabbit.

Ephraim lifts the rabbit away, then lowers it and gently presses Cowslip’s nose into Sarah’s cheek twice more before he finally lets her take the rabbit from him with a sound that almost sounds like she thinks she’s won. He leans his hand on his chin as he watches her hold Cowslip tightly, alternating between holding the rabbit and sucking on his nose, all while looking up at Ephraim and smiling.

“He’s a good rabbit,” Ephraim says. “He’ll take good care of you.” He runs his hand over Sarah’s soft, still-grown hair as she looks up at him, Cowslip’s nose in her mouth and covered in spit. Ephraim wonders if he’d ever chewed on Cowslip’s nose when he first got him.

As Sarah sighs contently, Ephraim reaches for his homework and brings it down to his lap. In between problems he glances at Sarah, quiet and alternating between staring around at the room and staring at him as she sucks on Cowslip’s nose. And then, finally, the next time he looks at her, she’s fallen asleep, Cowslip’s nose still in her mouth.

Ephraim sighs, sets his book aside and gently scoops his sister into his arms, rabbit and all. He carries her back to her room, tucks her into her bed. It almost pains him to have to let Cowslip go for real this time, but the little rabbit is far better off with someone who can love him like Ephraim has instead of being stuffed away under a bed. He pulls the blanket over Sarah and Cowslip, then returns to his room to finish up the last of his homework..

[***]

The front door swinging shut and Mother’s shrill voice from the hall announcing their arrival home makes his heart leap. Sarah still has his rabbit tucked in her arms. He manages to slip it from her arms and tuck it under the bed, where he hopes Mother won’t be able to see it. Then he makes his way downstairs to greet his parents, just taking off their coats.

Mother looks relieved to see him. “How are you, Ephraim?”

“Well,” he says. “I’ve finished my homework.”

Mother nods, pleased. “And Sarah?” Her expression noticeably darkens.

“She cried for a good while,” Ephraim says, frowning. “She’s finally calmed down.”

Mother huffs, then begrudgingly goes up the stairs to check on her youngest child. Ephraim’s heart races as he thinks about what she’ll say if she sees the rabbit. He’s got an excuse lined up before the hem of her dress disappears from view.

Father, on the other hand, takes his time hanging his hat on the hook, and not without a tired sigh at Mother’s frustrations with her youngest. But he pats Ephraim on the shoulder with a small, knowing smile. Ephraim sighs with relief.

#scary stories to tell in the dark #ssttitd #ephraim bellows #sarah bellows #tolerant ephraim au

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