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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language, nudity (but, like, for art), and violence Warnings: Unhealthy dynamics, including violence between the shipped pair, leaning heavily into the "enemies" part of "enemies to friends to lovers" Summary: Local vampire discusses art, depictions of certain anatomy, and enjoys the company of her feral soulmate for 4.5 minutes. Then it goes to shit (as things tend to do). 0-60 Real goddamn quick. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly

4: Portraits For Ghosts

“Am I really supposed to just… stay here? Did she honestly think that I, of all people, would behave? The universe gave me two good hands, and by God, I intend to make that someone else’s problem,” you mutter to yourself as you get dressed. It’s not that you necessarily had anything in mind, rather that you hated the idea of waiting around for who knows how long for Cassandra to return. Especially considering what she had done prior to leaving. Sure, you had laughed, but that hadn’t meant much in the end. At this point, you hadn’t even been out of the dungeon for a full day yet, and the memories of what happened there were fresh in your mind. Nightmares, too, even if you had pushed them aside to deal with Cassandra’s. Why did I bother? You wonder, frowning. There was hardly any point to comforting a monster, no matter the way they trembled.

Or at least that’s the lie you sold yourself.

Soon enough, a knock at the door brings you out of your head. Daphne, maybe, you think, remembering the maiden from yesterday. When you open the door, however, you’re met with an unfamiliar woman. She’s a few years your senior, at the very least, and appears surprised to see you. In her hands is a very enticing tray of food.

“Lady Cassandra wanted me to bring this to you. I am… I am glad to see you are feeling better already,” she says, voice shaking. What was with these maidens and assuming you were anything like your soulmate? Though that last part did catch your interest. Something told you that she wasn’t at all referring to your time in the dungeon. If you had learned anything from Daphne, it was that the best way to get information was to be indirect. So you graciously accepted the food, before speaking, dodging your way around your ignorance.

“Yes, it’s amazing what a bit of meditating can do for the soul- and body, that is,” you start, watching closely for any veiled reactions. Even within the first few words you can tell that this stranger wasn’t expecting you to be pleasant. “Out of curiosity, what did my Lady say about my condition? There are, uh, a few details that I hope she did not share. I’m sure you understand.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, the maiden is nodding, appearing eager to satisfy you. Maybe a hint of fear can be useful, after all.

“No worries, Lady Cassandra did well to respect your privacy, and we would not dare question her further. She simply explained, to her family, that you were dealing with a migraine. I only heard this because I was helping serve breakfast,” she explained, smiling softly. You’re quick to nod, mimicking her expression for maximum empathy. “Do you require anything else? I am here to serve, you must only ask.” Ah, perfect. Would she have offered this even if you hadn’t attempted to be charming? Probably, but your politeness certainly didn't hurt.

“Well, there is one thing… as long as it’s no trouble.”

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It had been a risk, asking the servant to take you to a room you weren’t sure existed, but one that had paid off brilliantly. Even if said room was nothing like you had anticipated. Who would have thought that Cassandra, you think, would be an artist? What’s far less surprising is the fact that the studio (or ‘study’, as you had called it) is a disorganized disaster. Discarded papers lie scattered around an overflowing trash can, a cabinet with an attached tool rack is missing pieces, and in one corner there are literally random shards of broken glass lying about. What is this, performance art? Part of you feels tempted to clean up the mess, if only to occupy your time. Instead, you decide to examine some of the pieces within the room. Maybe somehow they’d tell you something noteworthy about your soulmate.

First, you move to your left, where a workbench houses strange sculptures. For the most part they’re abstract, jagged edges contrasting with gentle curves, but there is one you think you understand. It’s very clearly a bust… of someone’s ‘bust’. Guess that solves the age old question of ‘boobs or ass’, you think, stifling a giggle. Moving on, you shift your attention to the exposed section of the cabinet. One row is dedicated to small vials, each labeled with a concerning ‘blood’, despite the fact that it’s clearly not refrigerated. Still, you have heard of artists painting with blood before, but you seem to recall them mixing it with something else. Perhaps Cassandra had done the same? Though you did wonder if she had any difficulty resisting the urge to drink the blood, at least prior to mixing it.

Shrugging, you continue to the other side of the studio, squatting to get a closer look at the broken glass. As expected, there’s no discernable pattern or purpose. Huh, you think, wonder why she doesn’t clean up. Maybe she’s waiting for a servant to do it? Guessing her reasoning was rather difficult, especially considering your lack of context, such as how long the mess had been here. Deciding that this was a pointless distraction, you move on to the only other thing of note in the room: An easel, in the center, with a canvas nearly as tall as yourself. So far, there’s little on it other than pencil lines, a sketch marking where to paint certain details. Only the (start of) the background has been colored. Understandably, it’s hard to make out what exactly the finished project would end up representing. Based on what you know of Cassandra and her family, however, you infer that this- with four figures, one larger than the others, protective- is a painting of the castle residents.

“Family means something to you, hmm?... I hope that mine does not miss me much, for I will never see them again,” you say to yourself, instinctively reaching out towards the art. Before you can touch it, or think better of it, the door to the studio is flying open. In storms Cassandra, fists clenched at her sides. As soon as she sees you, she’s rushing forward, pulling you away from the easel. “Hello, darling. Glad to see me feeling better, yes?” You teased, smiling wide at her. Feeling a bit emboldened by your earlier success, you go a step further, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I swear to fuck, if you touched any of my stuff-” Cassandra starts to say, intentionally ignoring the kiss, even though her cheeks get flush at the contact.

“Nope, not a single thing. Not even the broken glass. Nice touch, by the way, makes the whole space feel a helluva lot cozier,” you interject. For a few moments she holds you by your shirt collar, staring you in the eyes as if determining whether or not to believe you. Somehow, some way, she declares you innocent, releasing you with an irritated sigh. After pretending to dust yourself off, you return your attention to the central canvas. “Do you do a lot of art of your family? I passed by several pieces on my way here, though they were certainly in a different style.” Another pause, with Cassandra waiting for you to spring a verbal trap.

“Some of those are mother’s work,” she answers, tentatively, eying you closely. When you merely nod in reply, expecting her to elaborate, she starts to relax, little by little. “I doubt you passed any of mine. Mother tends to keep those closer to her quarters, or near the main entrance.” Interesting, you think, why hasn’t she addressed my original question?

“It sounds like she’s very proud of you,” you muse, still facing away from your soulmate. There’s a slight shakiness to your voice, as your mind starts to dwell on memories of your own family. Perhaps noticing this, Cassandra takes a few steps closer, one hand hovering over your shoulder, not quite sure if you needed (or perhaps deserved) any comfort. In this moment, you feel far more vulnerable than you had the day before. Taking a deep breath, you try to center yourself, before perfectly ruining whatever trust you had just established with Cassandra. “Something tells me she doesn’t know about the titty sculpture though, right? Can’t quite imagine that one being displayed where everyone can see it.”

To your immense surprise, Cassandra gives you a blank stare.

“You… you really don’t know anything about my mother, do you?” She says, after several awkward seconds. It feels strange to think that she had been furious, merely a handful of minutes ago. “If you actually behave for a while, I can show you some of her favorite pieces around the castle. Then maybe you’ll understand.” Intrigued, you debate how exactly to respond. On one hand, you did want to see the art, but on the other hand… misbehaving was your goal of the day.

“Sounds like a nice date to me. Why not start the tour right now?” You suggest, hoping to meet your ‘politeness quota’ earlier rather than later. Still, it is in your very nature to be chaotic, and you find yourself giving Cassandra an affectionate shoulder touch. It’s not at all genuine, but the two of you blush nonetheless. How could you not, when your blood was bound together, hearts made to race in sync?

“Don’t get friendly with me,” Cassandra stammers, unadjusted to the way her pulse pounded. “This isn’t a date. We’re just- it doesn’t matter, actually. As long as it means getting you out of my studio, I don’t care.” With that said, she takes your hand in her own, pulling you towards the exit. If she has any feelings about the soft touch, she hides them well… unlike yourself. Cheeks flushed, you’re half tempted to yank yourself out of her grip, hating the way your heart skips a few beats. Would I still feel this way if I didn’t know we were soulmates? You wonder, biting your lower lip to prevent any unwanted comments from slipping out. Soon enough you’d have art aplenty to distract yourself with. Hopefully.

---------------------------

“My God, you were not kidding. I don’t- I can’t even think of anything clever to say,” you chime, staring dumbfounded at the several statuettes of naked women. They seemed to fulfill some other purpose, one you couldn’t parse at the moment, but you could hardly think about the details right now. “I mean, good for your mother, for sticking to a theme, I suppose,” you continue, tripping over your own tongue, uncharacteristically quiet. Clearly amused by your flustered display, Cassandra lets out a hearty laugh.

“Good to know some things can shut you up. I’ll have to keep this in mind for next time you bother me,” she teases, light-heartedly. Her words only fluster you more, though they quickly give you room to counter, much to your joy.

“Is that so? Planning on carrying around a busty bust for the rest of your life, or thinking of going the more au naturel route?” You asked, briefly sticking your tongue out at Cassandra. It takes her a moment to understand what you’re getting at, but as soon as she does she’s smacking your arm with an offended huff. Despite her irritation, the blow is relatively soft, and you swear you can see her fighting to hide a smile. “Starting to go soft on me, are you? I hardly even felt that one.”

“So you’d prefer I hit you harder? And to think you called me kinky,” Cassandra fires back, without a hint of hesitation. Now both of you are laughing, softly, like old friends sharing fond memories. It’s… weirdly nice. A warmth fills your chest, even as you try to remind yourself that you shouldn’t be happy right now. Damn it, you think, suddenly frowning, hands clenching. We shouldn’t be having fun banter, back and forth like a real couple. Not when I’ve still got wounds from her hands on my skin. Instinctively you reach up to your face, thumb running over the marks Cassandra’s nails had left behind. The touch stings, bad, no matter how gentle you try to be. Noticing your shift in expression, your soulmate inches closer. “If your wounds are bothering you, I can have one of the servants get more ointment or whatever it is we have around. I don’t want you to-... There’s no reason for you to suffer more than you need to, besides, I don’t want you complaining all day.” Of course she couldn’t bring herself to imply that she cared. Of course. It wasn’t like the two of you were actually capable of being soft for each other, obviously. All of your confusion melts down, boiled by the warmth in your chest, turning to a familiar, albeit painful, rage.

“Right, right! Because you care so fucking much, yeah? What the fuck am I doing? Why am I-” you jab a finger towards her chest, accusatory- “talking to you? Why am I pretending you're not the one who did this to me? You’re the fucking reason my face hurts, my shoulder hurts, my brain-... I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened down there. I can’t get those goddamn images out of my head, every time I close my eyes, every time I look at you. I…” You trail off, chest heaving a little, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Cassandra’s standing tall, unflinching, but there’s a noticeable regret in her expression.

“What. Are. You… going to do about it?” She asks, through clenched teeth, fighting back the full force of her emotions. You can’t tell what exactly she’s feeling, but you know that you want her to show you. Every part of you is itching for a fist fight, regardless of how stupid you know the idea is.

“Depends, dickwad, on whether or not these statuettes are properly secured,” you snap, already moving, fully abandoning all impulse control. By the time your hand grips the first sculpture, Cassandra has put you in a headlock, forcefully tugging you backwards. Panic sets in, making you try to jam your elbows into her stomach. Before long both of you are tumbling to the floor, bodies already aching, limbs flailing wildly in an attempt to hit a target, any target. In the end the air is knocked from your lungs as your head smacks against the ground. “Shit, shit, shit,” you grumble, coughing, finally processing just how much of a dumbass you were. It’s clear that at least one of the previous day’s wounds has reopened, and you feel something wet and sticky on your shirt.

“Finished, asshole?” Cassandra wheezes, sounding dazed, roughly pulling you up by your shirt collar. You nod, refusing to meet her gaze. Then she’s sighing in relief, letting you lean on her for support, holding you surprisingly close, considering the circumstances. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Again…”

#cassandra dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #enemies to friends to lovers #blunt teeth sharp tongue #got some fun banter in this one!#followed immediately by heartbreak #they want to be soft so bad #but they do not know how #i promise they will eventually be soft #you have to remember that this is still less than 24 hours after part 1 #the reader is traumatized

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zulivaris · 3 years

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Art Block tips that helped me

I’ve recently experienced art block after 3 or so months of overcoming my last one. Thankfully this block only lasted a few days thanks to some things I’ve observed and noted down from the previous time. So I’m sharing these few tips in hopes that it might help someone get unstuck :D!

First and foremost if you’re tired, sad or anxious don’t be surprised that you can’t make art, go and take care of yourself by treating yourself with kindness and patience, the sketchbooks and canvases will wait for you :)

The tips are under here:

Separate art studies from the creative time: When you do art studies you’re there to focus on specific things, learn and understand how things work so you can apply them later in your art. Studies take a lot of energy and focus and are the opposite of the creative "flow” of making your own pieces. If you combine the two the results are either unfocused studies or stiff drawings. When you sit down at your desk ask yourself “Do I want to learn something new or do I want to create something of my own?”

When you have an idea don’t be afraid of being messy: Let’s say you want to make a picture of several cats kolo dancing in the moonlight. How do you go about doing this? Well since you came up with the idea you already have a vague image in your mind, sketch it out with simple shapes, stick figures, circle and spheres etc Don’t worry about cat anatomy, or the dancer’s moves, sketch out the essence of it. This method removes the need to be perfect or accurate.

Ok after the messy sketch then what? Well now that you have sketched out the essence of your idea (and hopefully had fun doing so) now you go on to look for references! You put the creative process on pause and you can do a few brief studies if you need to: anatomy, color schemes, values, poses. Pick out a few of your favorites but don't obsess over them, they are a guide, a tool.

You know much more than you think. You’ve probably been drawing for a few years now. You’ve probably done some studies and drawn more than one type of subject. Then you have already internalized some of that information. I used to be obsessed with capturing the minute detail of the subject, and not be able to draw ANYTHING without reference. Instead of a useful tool, references became another obstacle to my creativity. That’s perfectionism my friend, and that’s no good. Here is an exercise a good friend of mine offered: Draw a few characters, animals and objects from imagination. Make sure that the subjects have no personal value to you (no ocs for example) so that if you make a mistake you won’t feel bad about it. Make the process relaxed and comfortable, pour a nice cup of joe, listen to your favorite music ... You will notice that you do indeed know how to draw some things without reference, and it’ll help with your confidence.

The more you do studies the more you understand This seems evident but the more you understand your subject the freer you can be and the easier it’ll be to draw it from imagination in the future. If you really struggle with something to the point of frustration (as in you can’t get it right even with reference) It means you have to study it. Have a study list, for example: hands, perspective, color theory etc. And one of those days you want to study pick something from the list, and look for videos on youtube or useful sites like line of action etc. Only study one thing at the time. You can go from studying hands to studying arms since they’re more immediately connected, but you can’t study hands and then jump to learning perspective right after. Trust me you can learn perfectly fine with the resources online, and I’m sure you’re clever enough to do it :D

Mistakes don’t mean you “suck” I’ve noticed that the two most common causes for art block are perfectionism and lack of self-confidence. The two can often go in tandem which is worse :’D But let me remind you of something, you can fix your piece along the whole process. Use erasers, lasso tools, liquify , select, paint it all over etc If something looks off to you then you also know deep inside how to fix it. Useful ways to see what clunks: flip canvas horizontally (helps with placement, proportions), turn the image to grayscale (helps to check values and where your eye tends to look), look at your image in thumbnail size and ask yourself if it’s clear, see the pose’s silhouette and ask yourself if you can tell what the character is doing etc. Don’t fret, everything can always be fixed :)

Perfectionism, sometimes it stops you before you begin Perfectionism causes you to overwork a piece, it makes you draw less, it makes art stressful, it brings insecurity. Let’s remove it with a simple exercise. It can be combined with the “draw things from imagination” once you’ve drawn something you like: dont do line art, don’t shade it, keep it as simple and crude as possible and then...post it. Yes, post it. You’re not at your best? You’re only human, this will help you embrace that very human side of you. You make mistakes. So what? The more mistakes you make the more you know what you need to study and the better at art you become. Mistakes are there to show us what we need to learn. See them as another tool and not a sign of failure.

Make the process as enjoyable as possible: You like art. You love drawing. Never forget this. Otherwise why are you drawing if you don’t enjoy it? It’s easy to fall prey to the mentality of those relatable memes that “art= suffering” or “I can’t even draw the other eye”. No no no my friends, these messages are fueling your insecurities instead of overcoming them. Let me tell you what, art is fun. It is. Art is fun, because I decided to make it fun again. And you should decide on that too. Personally I adore lineart but my hand-eye coordination is lacking to do it digitally, so....I just skipped it. Yes. I skipped it. I do the sketch, I clean it up a bit and then jump onto color which I adore. It allowed me to draw more and more freely. When I draw I listen to music, make strokes with the rhythm, I take breaks often and I drink my favorite iced teas. If you don’t like coloring do it in grayscale, if you love lineart then do that etc It doesn’t mean you won’t learn your weak points in the future with studies and practice, but you won’t let your weaknesses prevent you from drawing at all. No no, you won’t let them. You draw because you want to, despite of them.

Don’t wait for inspiration, provoke it Inspiration is not a divine and capricious muse. You make inspiration. It’s easy just collect all the things you like, music, artists, objects, characters, animals, patterns, plants etc Make boards on pinterest or similar sites, combine things you like. You like suits? You like birds? You can draw a bird in a suit, or a bird-inspired suit design, there is frankly a lot of ideas that can spring up from little things like these.

When a project stops being enjoyable either pause it for now or move on to the next thing. Pieces aren’t precious. They’re not “the one time I got x right” they are one of many. This advice goes mainly to hobbyists who can afford the luxury of passing to a new project. I have a WIP of a character who is overly complicated (I enjoy a challenge from time to time) sitting for half a month. I sometimes come back to it and add something... but as soon as it starts to create discomfort and insecurity instead of enjoyment I move onto something else. In the meantime I created 3 or 4 new pieces. If I had waited on finishing that piece I would have been severely creatively and physically exhausted. The art comes from you, not inspiration. The more art you make the better you become.

That’s about it :D I know it’s long but I prefer to be thorough and cover all the possibilities. If you have read of this: Thank you so much I hope this helps you at least a bit, if it helps only 1 other person I’d still be very happy. Have a nice one, and kick art block’s butt!

#art block #art block tips #art block advice #art advice #art help #BloggityDiary #art reference #I hope this will help someone out #This will also help me remember my own advice sksksk

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polnareffenjoyer · 3 years

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Uh unsure how many characters you’re willing to write for but can I have the SDC crew reacting to seeing their crush’s sketchbook filled with drawings and silly comics of them? On the case you do have a limit on how many, then I’m fine with either Polnareff, Kakoyin, Jotaro or Avdol (who can pick whoever if you want to!) Hope you’re having a lovely day!💕💕

This is such a cute idea anon, hope you like it. Also I don't really have a character limit, I wanted to do all of the crusaders but then I got tired and it already took me such a long time to finish it and ahhh. Sorry for all the grammatical errors, English is not my first language and it's already so late when I'm finishing it and it's just bleh. I hope you like it anyways, sending much love to you anon! ♥️

Stardust Crusaders finding their crushes' sketchbook

Jotaro Kujo

He notices that you've been spending most of your free time drawing in that sketchbook of yours. Truth be told, it bothers him a lot. Jotaro has had a big fat crush on you for a while now, and he secretly longs for your company. He can't admit that tho, he has a hard ass bad boy reputation to maintain after all. What would people say if the saw him all flustered for a girl? The fact that you would rather sit by yourself and draw than be around him and the others bugs him. So one day, when you're busy with something else, he takes your beloved sketchbook and decides to see what's in there. He knows he's being creepy, but he couldn't care less. Just trying to get to know you better, without actually talking to you. Exactly.

He's very flustered but would rather die than admit it. Has read through all of it, admiring every single little drawing. After he's done, he'll just put it back where he found it, it the exact same place just so you don't notice someone has been messing with it. You probably have no idea he had seen your sketchbook at first, but you surely notice the blush dusting his cheeks whenever he speaks to you from that day on. Probably avoids you for a little while because he's so flustered.

The rest of the crew also notices something is off, Jotaro is always lost in thoughts and smokes more frequently. He can't keep himself from thinking about those cute drawings of yours, reading through your comics was a true delight. It fills him with glee to know that HE, among all of the crusaders, is the one who's the main character in your stories. It makes him giddy on the inside.

His secret eventually comes to light one night, he accidentally admits to having read through your comics while a late night talk between the whole group. While you were talking, Kakyoin had brought up the topic of your sketchbook. Now it's your turn to be embarassed, blushing crimson while trying to get as much information out of him as possible. How much did he see? Did he read through ALL OF THEM?

The rest of the crusaders are shocked at first, but quickly they start to laugh at the scene. Jotaro is reluctant to give any information, but he eventually tells you that yes, indeed, he's seen EVERYTHING. However, doesn't admit what the content of the sketchbook really is. Despite everything, he would never embarass you like that.

After everyone goes to sleep, you catch Jotaro before he has a chance to fall asleep, lying on his sleeping bag while looking at the night sky. You want to apologize, say anything, just to talk to him, but you're unable to find right words. He just sighs.

"Yare yare daze, there's no need to be embarassed [Y/N], I'm not mad"

Your eyes light up at his words. You want to say something, anything, thank him, but before you get a chance to do so, Jotaro's deep voice cuts you off.

"To be honest, I think your drawings are amazing. I really liked them" you notice his face is slightly tinted red from underneath his cap "But if you wanted me to model for you, you could've just said so"

With that, he rolls over and away from you. Completely baboozled, you roll over as well and try to sleep, or at least pretend to be asleep. Honestly, neither of you had slept much that night.

Kakyoin Noriaki

Kakyoin had a thing for you since you joined the crusaders, and your sketchbook is probably the very first thing he had noticed about you. He's always been interested in art, his parents had signed him up to numerous art courses and whatnot through his life. He's always loved drawing and painting, using it as an escape from his daily problems, and seeing that you two might have something in common makes him incredibly happy, especially since he has feelings for you.

He'll try to approach you about your sketchbook very subtely, afraid that he might scare you away by being too pushy. Of course you get extremely flustered everytime he brings it up, but it doesn't discourage him. Kakyoin respects your boundaries and understands that you might not be ready to show him your drawings yet. Despite that, he's always willing to share his knowledge with you. He'll give you advices about proper shading while you two are waiting in the hotel lobby for the rest of the group to finish up picking rooms. During a long car ride, he'll talk to you about his favourite artists. If you want him to show you how to put certain shading techniques into practice, he'll be more than happy to do so. He'll just pick a random piece of paper and start drawing on it, you might want to lean in closer and maybe put your head on his shoulder to get a better look? He has no objections! Just sayin.

When he eventually gets to see your sketchbook, this man is so honored! He didn't mean to look, at first he though it was just some book lying around and wanted to take a look inside, out off boredom. Once he realizes what he's reading at, his face flushes with crimson. Your sketchbook is filled with sketches of him? This whole time you were actually drawing him, out of all people? He couldn't be more grateful that no one else was around, if someone saw him reading through your comics with this stupid smile on his face and red cheeks, they would've though he went mad.

Kakyoin wastes no time trying to find you. For a moment, he thinks that perhaps he should've waited a bit, just to get you alone and not embarass you infront of the whole crew. He can't think straight though, his mind filled with your cute little drawings, with his face drawn with black pen over and over again. With glee, he notes that you had used the very techniques he had told you about earlier. If you had drawn him so many times, does it mean that you have a crush on him too? It's too good to be true.

"[Y/N]! Can I talk with you for a minute?"

He goes to confront you immediately. Others give him a puzzled look, but he couldn't care less. He grabs your arms and leads you away.

"Don't be mad [Y/N], but I've seen your sketchbook and I have to say, I think your art is beyond amazing!"

You're at loss of words, your face red and you could swear that you've never felt so embarassed in your whole entire life. However, his reaction is making you feel a bit better. He's not mad, nor is he making fun of you. If anything, he seems enamoured.

"Please, [Y/N], we should draw together! Maybe next time we have a chance, I should paint your portrait?"

Despite the awkwardness, the whole situation turns out amazing in the end. How he's sure you must have feelings for him, and it makes him incredibly happy, hoping that one day, after your crusade is done, he'll get a chance to repay you and make that promised portrait.

Muhammad Avdol

With everything that's been happening lately, Avdol gets a little bit distracted from you. Before he would steal glances your way all the time, watching with curiosity as you would draw something in your sketchbook. Recently, he's been too busy fighting enemy stand users and... well, trying not to die. He still cares about you a lot and watches over you during fights, ready to shield you from danger with his own body, if it's what it takes to keep you safe.

It probably happens because of a mishap. While you are deciding on your rooming, you leave your sketchbook lying next to Avdol's things and go to the bathroom. After he's done helping Joseph with translating and getting everything done, he goes back and assumes that it's just one of his books that has fallen out of the bag. Not thinking much of it, he picks it up and leaves with Mrs Joestar to settle in their shared room.

You can imagine the panic and shock that nearly paralyzes you once you notice that your beloved sketchbook is gone, nowhere to be seen, reduced to atoms! You begin to look around frantically, looking under the furniture while sweating profusely. Other quests give you weird looks, but you don't even notice them staring. Polnareff is one of them, he asks if you're okay and tries to calm you down, but to no avail. After he leaves, you try to focus really hard and try to remember - when did you see it last time? It was on that chair for sure when you left. God, you can only pray that it doesn't end up in Avdol's hands somehow...

Meanwhile, Avdol is getting ready for shower and goes through his bag. He notices the book he picked up from the lobby isn't even a book, but a sketchbook! Now he's sure he must've picked it up by mistake, he decides it would be best to put it down and not look through it. It's someone's very personal art after all, it would be very disrespectful to - wait a damn minute, is that HIM?

Long story short, he goes through a good portion of your drawings before Joseph comes out of the shower and gives him a puzzled look, seeing how his eyes are literally shinning with adoration. He puts your sketchbook back into his bag, acting as if nothing happened and continues on with his nightly routine. Later on, when Joseph is already fast asleep, he contemplates about whether or not he should go to your room right now and ask about the sketchbook he had found. He's already suspecting it's yours, whose else would it be? He has seen you drawing often, could it be that you returned his feelings and had spent your time sketching him? Ultimately, he decides to wait until tomorrow to find out.

The very next day, he knocks on your door early in the morning. It startles you awake, running up to your door to look through a peephole, seeing a muscular man on the other side. Sighing heavily, you unlock the door and open it just a little bit.

"Excuse my intrusion, [Y/N], but I have found something that I think belongs to you."

Now that's embarassing. You see your sketchbook in his hand, a wide, knowing smile on his face. He knows it's yours. All it took is one look at your stupid red face to figure it out. God, he can read you like an open book, can't he? While you reach out to take it from him, your fingers touch just slightly.

"Don't worry, I swear I won't tell anyone about this" she winked at you, which almost made you gasp "If anything, I think I should maybe pose for you in private? So you can get a better look? You should think about it..."

Who would've thought this man could be such a flirt sometimes...

Jean Pierre Polnareff

You better watch out, because if this man has a crush on you, you bet he would go above and beyond to find out what's inside that sketchbook. I'm not joking. He forgets what personal space is, he's even worse that Jotaro, because while JoJo would make sure to be sneaky, Polnareff wouldn't even bother. He'll try to catch a sneak peak by looking over your shoulder while you're drawing, constantly asking you questions about art related things, everything always leading to your sketchbook.

He wants to know what's inside. Simple as that. You're like an enigma to him, I feel like all women are mysteries to him and he always works towards finding out what their secrets are. You are especially interesting to him, because of how secretive you are with your art. He's captivated, and while he never had any interest in arts himself, he had always fancied himself as a man with a great sense of beauty. That being said, he's always trying to get your attention while talking about how "France is a wonderful country for artists! You should come and visit after our crusade is over, [Y/N]! I'll show you all the greatest museums and art galleries!"

He's like a puppy, following you around and being just a bit too pushy. If you tell him you feel uncomfortable, he'll back off of course. He's not just some juvenile pervert after all! He's a honourable man who would never touch or bother a woman without her permission, no matter how desperate he seems sometimes.

When he finally sees your sketchbook, it's probably because he did it on purpose and not because of an accident. He wanted to make sure that it was him your were capturing in your drawing, and boy was he happy when he saw what's inside! It's all him, cute little sketches, little comics, it's better that he could've ever imagined! He's literally crying the tears of joy while reading them. Before it was all just wishful thinking, but now it turns out to be true! He's honoured, admiring every single little drawing with hit tears streaming down his face. He must look pathetic right now, if anyone was around they would think the was a mad man. He gets up and runs away with your sketchbook in his hand, trying to find you.

"[Y/N]! Ma cherie! Mon coeur! My love, my life! We need to talk!"

Did i mention that he doesn't shy away from nicknames? Yeah.

It's probably the worst confrontation compared to the rest of them, he's not subtle like Kakyoin and decides to talk with you about your drawings right then and there, in front of everyone. At first they're surprised, looking at Polnareff as is he was crazy, but slowly their shock is replaced with amusement. Joseph doesn't even try to hold back his laughter, while the rest of the crew is trying to keep it cool as not to embarass you any further while the Frenchman is just going on and on with his declarations of undying love. It's a bit dramatic, one of these moments that you will probably laugh about in the future, but you felt like disappearing right then and there.

"Your drawing are magnifique! [Y/N], my love, if you wanted to draw me, you could've just said so! Although I don't think I deserve to be potrayed by you, to be drawn by your skilled hands, ma cherie!"

You snatch the sketchbook from him. After that incident you probably try to avoid him, but he won't give up! He's more determined than ever, knowing that you feel the same way as he does fills him with hope, hope for a future life with you that is! He won't give up until he makes you the happiest woman on earth.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #jjba x you #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #muhammad avdol #jean pierre polnareff #jotaro x reader #jjba imagines #stardust crusaders imagines #kakyoin imagine #polnareff x reader #avdol x reader #jjba headcanons #first request done!

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Text

The Bargain Pt 6 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7

Feyre and Rhys sat in a cafe, where sunlight streamed in through the wide glass window and punk music was a pulse the walls had.

They were sitting in the centre of the space, where there were small armchairs around a coffee table, and spread out on said table were their cups of coffee, a large sheet of butcher's paper, and an assortment of art supplies. There were also various magazine clippings and postcards they had gathered over the morning to serve as reference pictures. Feyre's German was still coming along and she had ordered a slice of their Kirschtorte, thinking it was a cherry cake and not at all expecting it to be full of Kirch liqueur.

The two had spent the morning discussing how they would proceed with the design. Rhys had encouraged her to take the lead, said she was the better painter, and that he had never really been a sunshiney kind of guy anyway. But Feyre was shy about starting, since she saw Rhys as the more experienced artist and found his talent slightly intimidating.

In the end, it was agreed that the mural be more of an abstract piece, where Rhys would sketch the structure and bones of it, and then Feyre would take lead on the colours and detail.

After that was settled, they rolled out their art supplies and Rhys picked up a black marker.

Feyre settled back in her arm chair with her second coffee, and watched as Rhys knelt down on the floor at the low table. She couldn't see what he was drawing yet, so she contented herself with watching the movement of his shoulders instead.

Today, Rhys was wearing a black waffle shirt with long sleeves, and black jeans that hugged the muscles of his legs.

After Rhys had finished her tattoo, Feyre thought about him often. She would inspect her arm to check the how everything was healing, and remember the pressure of his fingers on her skin.

At the time, she thought of Rhys as a sort of escapist fantasy, a contrast to her life with Tamlin. She figured it didn't matter too much who he actually was, as long he was not Tamlin it was a fun daydream. And she had always wondered what it'd be like to be in a relationship with another artist. To have someone to bounce ideas off, or critique your work, or inspire and challenge you.

By the time she and Tamlin had broken up, Feyre had filed Rhys away in her mind as someone whom she knew nothing about, and had probably been crushing on as the idea of love rather than a person himself. And she did not put any further thought into it than that.

But now that Rhys was here, in Berlin, right in front of her, she was sharply reminded that there were other, non-Tamlin related things about him that were... undeniably appealing.

The shape of his shoulders, for one and two. Rhys was now moving back and forth over the massive sheet of paper, filling the space with what looking like undulating curves back and forth across the page. The marker in his right hand made a faint scratching sound as he moved, and his left hand was braced on the other side of the paper. He had strong looking hands, and long fingers.

While Rhys was deep in concentration, Feyre stole a peek at his face. When he moved up to do the top left corner of the page, he turned enough toward Feyre that she could study him in profile. The toffee of his skin was warmed in the afternoon sun, and although his hair was very short in the back, a thick curl of it fell into his face as he leaned over the table.

"Okay, I think that's a start for me," Rhys said, sitting back on his heels. He turned back to Feyre, who quickly dropped her eyes to the page.

"Oh, this is lovely," she said, standing up to get a better view of the whole page.

Rhys had stretched a curving pattern, high and cresting on one side like a wave and then trailing off toward the other. Dark swirls and shadows curled around the bottom edge, like something brewing underneath. He ran his eyes over the page, and scratched the back of his head.

"Summer always means sea and storms, for me," he said. "You'll have to brighten it up for me."

They swapped spots then, Rhys taking Feyre's place in the armchair and Feyre biting her lip as she surveyed what Rhys had made. She loved the movement of it, and it was characteristically dark and restless like Rhys' tattoos.

Feyre selected a tray of pastels, which she thought would move most like paint without having to get messy in the cafe, and tried to ignore the pricking feeling of Rhys' gaze as she worked her way through his pattern. It was a strange thing, adding to someone else's work. Like picking through their mind and putting your own thoughts in there, slotting them amongst theirs. She hoped Rhys wouldn't mind her intrusion.

Summer, thought Feyre. She dreamed scorching sand, frothing seafoam, melting ice cream and heart-shaped sunglasses. One thousand rainbow butterflies. Soft swirling seashells and wildflowers in droves.

And then as she got lost in the colours, suddenly she found herself thinking of the deep gold of Rhys' skin, the white of his teeth, the sparking violet of his eyes. She had just found the perfect colour for them, and then dropped the pastel abruptly when she realised what she was doing.

Feyre was so embarrassed, her mind went blank and she couldn't keep going. Rhys took this to mean she was done.

"I love it," he said softly, coming down to kneel beside her. He moved a finger over a stretch of turquoise, and slowly looked over the whole thing. Taking his time to appreciate it.

"Well, as you say, it's a start," Feyre murmured. "You get the idea, at least." "Yeah totally," Rhys said. "I can see where it's going, and I think it'll be great on a large scale." He picked up a black pastel and started deepening shadows here and there.

"Yes, that's what it needs," Feyre agreed. "Tarquin's going to love it," she said.

Rhys stood up, and took a photo from above. He spoke out loud as he texted.

"Something... like... this?"

He sent the text to their contractor, and grinned at Feyre. "Well, I like it anyway." Feyre found herself smiling too.

"So do I," she said.

And although it had only been a day, she thought that if this was what Rhys' mind looked like on the inside, she might be quite fond of that, too.

****

Sorry I actually had a bit more action planned, but as you may know by now I'm not driving the fics run themselves... and this bit wanted more space than I had anticipated. Hope you don't mind it moving a little slow!

Also, I didn’t quite know how to reply to all of your kind comments individually but please know that I hoard them like a dragon and I really, really appreciate you guys. Thank you so much.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #fluff #mine

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official-weasley · 3 years

Text

A New Home - (The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley AU)

Warnings: A realtor ready to be hexed by Charlie

Word count: 3,695

Characters: Charlie Weasley and my OC Nova from TICW which you can find here

Nova

“So then we finally found the hole where Fang was kept and I wanted to investigate, you know, be cautious but your mum here decided to be a Gryffindor for a day and act brave and just jumped down there. I, of course, jumped right after her and I was a bit mad at her because...”

“A bit?” I raised my eyebrow at Charlie.

“Hey, I am telling the story.” Charlie stuck out his tongue at me. “As I was saying, a bit mad at her because I wanted to go first and didn't want to see her get hurt, and then we talked in a totally normal voice that one can't consider shouting...”

“Right.” I giggled at his ridiculous story-telling.

“Love, stop interrupting me.” Charlie glared at me. “Then we heard Fang and we ran to this cave that belonged to a Red Cap and well, we saved the dog!” Charlie threw his hand in the air all proud and hero-like.

“With a few alterations and details missed that's the story, yes.” I chuckled.

I ran my fingers through Charlie's hair who was resting his head on my knees telling our Red Cap adventure story to the baby in my belly. I am five and a half months pregnant now and ever since I started to show, Charlie has been talking and telling the baby stories, looking at it as if it's the most beautiful thing in the world. Sometimes he places gentle kisses on top of my bump and tells the baby that he loves them already and that he can't wait to meet them. He has evenings when I am reading a book and he gets bored and just starts to rub my belly, singing to it.

I find the whole thing adorable and it warms my heart that he is so excited to be a dad. I know that he is a family man and that he always wished to have a family of his own but I have never imagined him to fall into the role of being a dad so quickly.

The voice he used to talk to the baby was the softest I have ever heard him speak in and his exaggerated stories from the Sanctuary were my favorite to listen to. He made himself look like a strong superhero who all the dragons listen to and if I could, I would listen to him talk all the time. Less than 4 months now and we will meet our baby and I can't wait for Charlie to tell them more incredible stories, no matter how much he changes it or how many details he leaves out.

“I have another one!” Charlie exclaimed after a few minutes of him staring at my baby bump, probably daydreaming about holding our child.

“Char!” I giggled.

“Shh, love. I'm in my story mode.” He sluggishly made his way to me and pressed a tender kiss on my lips.

“So, let me tell you the story of how your mum and dad met.” Charlie went back to resting his head on my knees.

“Didn't you tell this one already?” I teased.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not in the way I am about to tell it.”

“Of course, there are variations.” I tried sounding serious, finding his excitement amusing.

“So, by now you probably know that when mum and I were at school I was a bit obsessed with dragons...”

“Was?” I raised my eyebrows again.

“Am...” Charlie playfully rolled his eyes, correcting himself. “Of course, not as obsessed as I am with your mother and with you.” He kissed the spot right under my belly button.

“Okay, where was I? Right, I am a bit obsessed with dragons...”

“A bit?” I pressed my lips together not to start laughing.

“Love, let me tell this story,” Charlie whined.

“Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” I ruffled his hair and nodded to make him continue.

“So, I was reading this book about dragons and some Slytherins came by to say hello in a bit of a rude way and your mother, amazing as she is, didn't like the way those students were talking to me and she drew out her wand and hexed them all to the ground and the look she was giving them scared them so much that they didn't leave their dormitory for a week!” Charlie gasped dramatically.

“That is not at all what happened.” I laughed wholeheartedly.

“Of course, it did! You're brain just remembers it differently because you're modest.” He smiled gently at me and sent me a wink.

“Your mum is a hero and never let her tell you otherwise, she just doesn't like to praise herself, so that's my job!” I grinned as he said those words, his eyes on my belly.

“And you're doing great and sorry to interrupt you but we have to go.” I cupped his cheek to make him look at me.

“But I was just about to tell them about Helga, the Giant Squid!” Charlie looked disappointed.

“And we would both just love to hear that story but we don't have time. We'll be late to meet the realtor.” I explained.

“That's not in another two hours.” Charlie swung his hand.

“Char, you have been telling stories for those two hours.” I giggled.

Charlie turned around to look at the clock on the wall.

“Blimey, I got a bit carried away again, didn't I?” His cheeks turned scarlet.

“No,” I shook my head, trying to get up, “I love how into your stories you get.”

He offered me his hand to help me stand up. It was already harder for me to get up and I still had so many months to go! I made my way to the bathroom. All I do all day is read baby books, listen to Charlie tell stories, and pee. Pregnancy isn't at all what I expected but not in a bad way – in a way, it's kind of fun.

“Okay, do you have everything?” Charlie asked as I walked down the stairs.

“I have to go pee one more time.” I smiled sheepishly, returning to the bathroom. “Didn't you pee five minutes ago?”

“Don't question the bladder of a pregnant woman, Charles,” I shouted from the bathroom.

“Fair enough.” I heard him giggle, waiting patiently for me to finish.

—

“I think this one will be more to your liking.” The realtor grinned at both of us before turning around and rushing to the building.

“And I think we should change the agent,” Charlie whispered to me looking a bit annoyed.

“One more house, one more chance.” I tried staying optimistic.

Honestly, I was only doing so to stop Charlie from hexing the man who was showing us houses. There are 3 wizard villages around the 3 kilometers radius of the Sanctuary and one Muggle one. We looked at 4 houses so far – one in each – and despite describing to the realtor in advance what we have in mind for our new home, the houses he showed us were nothing that we were hoping to see.

Charlie was getting annoyed, worried about me being on my feet and apparating as much as we did and I was losing all hope that we would be able to find a nice house so close to the Sanctuary. We both don't like to apparate so we wanted a place to live where we could easily walk to the Reserve.

Due to us having quite some money spared and both having a nice salary, Charlie insisted that I stay at home the second I started showing, due to how dangerous our job is. I tried protesting for about five minutes – missing my work due to being home because of morning sickness a lot already – but he didn't want to hear it and with all the years of being together I knew better than to argue with him.

Not that I have anything to complain about. Charlie makes me breakfast every morning before going to work. I mostly read during the time he is working because mum and Penny sent me so many books and the Ravenclaw in me was jumping from excitement. By my 5th month, I was so knowledgeable about babies and giving birth that I don't think I can get more ready. After Charlie comes home we eat dinner together and then we usually cuddle on the couch and tell each other about our day. He either tells the baby stories or we play a game where we try to guess who the baby will resemble more and of course, there's always the question will they like animals and beasts — more specifically dragons.

If I'm having a rough day – where everything irritates me and no matter how I sit or lay down I get uncomfortable – Charlie either massages my feet or my shoulders and brews me mint tea.

Because I was home alone for most of the day and I have a vivid imagination and know how to draw I made some sketches of our dream home. I also researched the villages around the Reserve and tried to get as much information for the realtor for him to have an easier job finding us the right home.

I know how much it means to Charlie that we stay near the Sanctuary and since I felt bad that he was working and I was just sitting at home, I wanted to do my best to make his wish to be near dragons a reality.

What the realtor showed us so far was crushing that. One house was half demolished and we would have to put in a lot of work to get it back in order despite us telling him that we want a completely furnished cottage-like house. The other one was about the size of our home now – which was the main reason we were moving in the first place and we said specifically that we wanted there to be at least three bedrooms as we weren't planning on moving again any time soon and we wanted to have more children.

The third one was empty and Charlie was sure it was haunted and the fourth one didn't have a single piece of wood in it and only a small window in the kitchen.

“Alright, one more and then let me hex him, please.” Charlie made puppy eyes.

“Deal.” I offered him my hand, a playful expression on my face.

“We are here!” The realtor turned to us, the proudest grin on his face.

“Wow.” Charlie and I said together.

“See, I told you you will like this one.”

He unlocked the front gate and rushed to the door of the house, or should I say manor.

“He is mental!” Charlie said through his teeth.

“Calm down, Char. Let's just look around and then get rid of him.” I whispered.

The house he thought so much would be to our liking was nothing like we hoped it would be.

“It has 5 bathrooms, 7 bedrooms, two gardens, and a pool!” The man almost jumped in the air.

“Great.” I forced a smile, looking up the tall ceilings of the dark room, feeling more like in prison than at home.

“I didn't know we apparated from Romania. Is this Azkaban?” Charlie tried lightening the mood, probably when he saw the disappointed expression on my face.

“7 bedrooms, what are we supposed to do with that? It looks nothing like a home and I most definitely can't picture us raising our children here. Imagine them running around and getting lost in their own home. How are we supposed to find them? Shout all around the house? It's not intimate, it's not family-friendly and it's cold!” Charlie's eyebrows came closer together with each sentence, gripping his wand.

“It's so big, I don't even know where that man is so that I could hex him!” He continued.

“Let's just go,” I suggested.

“What?” Charlie turned to me.

“Let's just leave him here. We don't know where he is anyway and before we find him we can already be halfway home if we walk.”

“But...” Charlie tried to protest.

I knew he wanted to shout at the man and probably wasn't joking about hexing him at this point.

“Char, please. I really have to pee and my feet are killing me.” I pleaded, hoping he would let this go.

“Okay.” He sighed. “But I am only doing this for you because you have to pee and I want to massage your feet.”

“Of course.” I nodded and gently entwined our fingers to pull him toward, what I hoped, was the right door to get out of here.

“Charlie, we have to apparate,” I said as we got out of the house after what seemed like 15 minutes spent in this labyrinth.

“No, love. You apparated enough as it is. Remember what the doctor said.” He gave me a warning look.

“But I need to pee and I can't hold it until we come home,” I whined, pressing my legs together.

“Okay, okay.” Charlie pulled me in a hug and started looking around. “There has to be a pub or a restaurant around here where you could go pee.”

“There!” I pointed at a sign that had a plate and a fork on it.

“Go, go, go. Find the bathroom and I'll explain to the staff why we came.” He gently pushed me toward the building.

I tried walking as normally as possible, me having to pee so badly that it hurt while avoiding eye contact with everybody inside the restaurant as I was hoping nobody would stop me. I spotted the bathroom sign at once and rushed inside.

Just as I was ready to head back out, drying my hands in a paper towel, I looked at the mirror and my eyes caught sight of something behind me. I turned around and looked through the bathroom window.

It wasn't just a house. It was a two-story wooden house. It didn't look too big and it had a For Sale sign in front of it!

I hurried out of the bathroom and found Charlie talking to the bartender, telling them why I needed to urgently use the bathroom.

“Thank you.” I smiled at them and pulled Charlie by his sleeve.

“Where's the rush, love? This place looks nice. Let me treat you to lunch. We haven't been on a date for a month.” Charlie bestowed me with one of those smiles that usually weakened my knees but I was so excited now that I couldn't let his charms work on me.

“Maybe later. I have to show you something.” I jumped a little, excitement in my voice.

“What?” Charlie got curious.

“Come with me.”

We exited the restaurant and started up the path to the hill where the house stood.

“Look!” I pointed at it as I finished explaining how I know about it in the first place.

“That looks promising.” Charlie gasped.

We knocked on the door but nobody answered. With one look at each other, we knew we have to see how it is inside. I don't know if it was the excitement in my chest or did I have a good feeling about this.

We knocked again and then tried the door. It was open.

“Just a quick peek and if we like it we go to the agency tomorrow,” Charlie said and I nodded.

It was perfect. It had big windows that let a lot of light in. It was completely furnished with modern yet minimalistic furniture. It had two bathrooms, a master bedroom, and three other rooms – just like we wanted. The kitchen with a big dining table. The living room was spacious with a very cozy sofa and a fireplace – something Charlie was hoping for because it reminds him of the Burrow. The walls were wooden but well isolated and there was even a small guest room on the lower floor.

I watched Charlie walk down the stairs as he finished looking at the upper floor and I couldn't help myself imagining him walking down those stairs every single day. I was ready to tell him that when I felt a weird tickling sensation on the inside of my belly. I narrowed my eyes, not really familiar with the feeling, when it happened again.

Before Charlie could ask me why I was making a weird face, my eyes widened as I realized what just happened.

“Oh, Merlin! Char, come here!” I motioned with my hand.

“What? What is going on? Is everything okay?” His eyes went from mine to my hands on my belly.

“I...I think the baby just kicked!” I exclaimed, moving my hands around to feel anything.

“No way!” Charlie gasped and kneeled before me.

“Yes, twice!”

Charlie didn't know what to do, he was shaking from excitement, looking at my belly as if the baby was about to wave at him.

“It happened again!” I was pretty sure that at this point, my eyes were sparkling.

“Can you feel it?” Charlie asked, hope in his voice.

“Put your hands on it. Maybe you can sense it.” I gestured for him to lift his arms and positioned his hands on my belly the second he did.

“There it was! Did you catch it?” I looked down at Charlie who was staring at my baby bump with his mouth slightly open.

“Char?” I tilted my head, rubbing circles on the back of his hands.

“I...”

“Did you feel it?” I lifted his chin gently so that our eyes met.

The second they did I knew he felt the baby kick because he was on the verge of tears.

“Nova, I felt it. I felt the baby kick!” He stood up so abruptly that I thought he was going to make us both stumble and he squeezed me in the tightest embrace, rocking us back and forth.

“This is a sign.” He whispered in my ear. “The baby likes the house, we have to go to the agency.”

“You want to live here, sweetheart?” I looked down at my belly as Charlie let me go and I felt another kick.

I didn't know if the kick was coincidental or if the baby could understand me, but I didn't care. I looked around one more time and I knew this was it. This was exactly what we were looking for.

“Who are you?”

We both jumped in the air, startled by the voice.

“We...we saw the sale sign and we...we wanted to look around. We...we didn't know anyone lived here.” Charlie stuttered, his cheeks bright red.

“There isn't anyone living here and the house is for sale. I'm the realtor.” The woman carefully took another step forward, offering Charlie her hand.

“Is it still available?” I couldn't hide the hope in my voice.

“It is.” The woman grinned when she saw how excited we were.

She showed us around and told us that the owner who built the house figured that the still life wasn't for him and decided to travel the world instead. She took us to see the garden which was perfect for children to play in. We felt as if we just got the best birthday surprise and without speaking I knew that Charlie already felt at home as much as I did.

However, our smiles were wiped off our faces the second the woman told us the price.

“That is a little bit out of our budget,” Charlie said to me when the realtor left us to discuss her offer.

“A little bit?” I sighed, disappointed.

“We can manage.” Charlie put his hands on my shoulders, making me look at him.

“Char, that's all our savings, and I won't make any money when I'm home with the baby, we can't be that reckless.” I shook my head.

Even though I was in love with the house, I knew we had to think reasonably.

“I'll work extra hours then.” Charlie offered.

“Char, we have to think with our heads here.” I pressed my lips together, to stop my jaw from trembling.

I couldn't stop myself from being so emotional. Of course, it was too good to be true. The house was exactly as we pictured it. I knew it was farfetched that we would get our dream home.

Charlie's brows furrowed when he saw the expression on my face, me obviously failing at hiding my emotions.

“Stay here.” He kissed my forehead and went outside.

I turned around to look at it one more time, to say goodbye to the house we could almost afford. I sighed and turned around to go outside. I stopped, however, when Charlie walked back in with the biggest grin on his face.

“Welcome home, love.” He cupped my face and kissed me hard on the mouth.

“Charles, what did you do?” I wanted to be angry with him so badly.

This was supposed to be a mutual decision and he wasn't thinking clearly, already being in love with this house. But at the same time, I couldn't blame him.

“I played the baby card.” He winked at me, looking proud of himself.

“What?”

“I told her that we can't afford it and asked if there is any way to lower the price a little bit. She asked me why we wanted the house so badly and I told her that we looked at so many today but that the baby kicked for the first time right in the living room and the woman melted when she saw me tear up, lowering the price to our budget!” Charlie jumped in his spot.

“No way!” I breathed. “Saying that I am pregnant, really does wonders!”

“I know!” Charlie lifted me and twirled me around.

“So, this is really our new home?” I asked one more time, the biggest smile on my face, my eyes glistening with tears.

“It's our home.” He kissed me on the nose and then leaned down to press his lips on my belly as well.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.” He said with a shaky voice and rubbed my belly.

#harry potter hogwarts mystery #harry potter fanfiction #hphm charlie #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #hogwarts mystery mc #the weasleys #hphm fanfiction #hp imagine #charlie weasley x oc #hphm imagine #charlie weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #the burrow

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Just Another Class Trip :) Part 6

Marinette goes on a nice peaceful trip to the pool. Me? sarcasm? how dare you sir!

First< Previous >Next

---------------------------

“Did you find what you were looking for Marinette?” Kagami asks oh so foolishly.

“Kagami look into my eyes and ask me that again,” Marinette dares, her eyes red rimmed with bags underneath bigger than Chloe's luggage.

“... You found your glasses?”

“Never mind,” She sighs, finishing the rest of her coffee, “At least that one isn't missing,”

“I thought you only wore them as M-you-know-who,” Chloe whispers, a purposeful look towards Lila’s posse leading the way to the bus.

“Just wanted to try them out without a mask,” She brushes off easily, she needed to be able to transport back to Paris at any time after all.

“Oh it was just terrible!” Lila cries, capturing the attention of everyone surrounding her.

“Did she finally hear a recording of herself?” Chloe scoffs, making Adrien shush her and Marinette crack a smile.

“This Starling kidnapped and tortured me for information,”

If only I had

“Luckily Batman was there to save me, but I knew he would be,” Lila croons, the class fretting over her all the while, “He was probably searching furiously the second I didn’t return his call,”

“When did she get Batman’s phone number?” Chloe whispers to her.

“No idea, think she’d give it to me?” Marinette smirks.

“Oh sure I bet it's 3825968,” Chloe laughs at her own joke.

Marinette doesn't get it but Kagami starts laughing, so she moves to stand next to Adrien while they share a moment.

“Any idea?”

“Not really,”

They reach the door going through it to find Gotham in the nice peaceful state it's always been.

Just kidding, lights start flashing in their faces and everyone around them is yelling. Lila of course tries to take this opportunity to get attention. To Marinette's great delight they push right past her, and to her horror opt to shove a million microphones in her face.

“Miss Wayne were you adopted?!”

“Yes but-” the cameras start flashing and the yelling increases tenfold.

“When?! How long ago!?!”

“A baby I guess?” She hadn't known her birth parents after all.

“How have you stay'n out of the public's eye for so long?”

By not being like Lila for one

“Mari I don’t think you’re talking about the same thing,”

“Yeah thanks, I’m getting that Adrien,”

“Adrien Agreste? Are you two dating?!”

“Great,” She ignores them, instead whispering to Adrien, “From now on Buttercup will be your codename,”

“Cool,” He leans in to whisper in her ear, “But I don’t think that’s helping things,”

It’s at this point the cameras are going crazy taking a million pictures of the two whispering in each others ear, while Kagami and Chloe try to push them all back. The class follow behind just as confused. Madame Bustier is trying to reason with the crowd, trying to . They reach the curb, fighting not to be pushed onto the road by the crowd. A limousine pulls up and for a wonderful second Marinette thinks Liam has come to save her, the wonderful manager he is. Instead Alfred steps out, surprising to say the least. He ushers her inside and tells the rest of the class the bus will be through momentarily. Marinette slides into the car right next to Bruce Wayne… well.

“Hello again, I um…” Marinette thinks back to their last meeting, “I don’t think I actually told you my name,”

“No you didn’t,” Bruce chuckles, “And Selina has been avoiding me ever since,”

“Sorry, well I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng Auntie Selina’s niece,” Marinette shakes his hand, “She didn’t tell me she was engaged,”

“Bruce Wayne, Selina didn’t tell me she had a niece,”

“Yeah, that's a bad habit isn't it?”

“Indeed,” Bruce pauses, both trying to reach for a conversation topic, “So you like fashion?”

She had said she would design her aunts wedding dress. She should probably double check that with the groom, whoops,

“I do I already sketched out some designs,” She takes out her sketchbook which has a good thirty pages dedicated to wedding dresses, “Oh you were probably going to hire a professional designer weren’t you?”

“We were considering MDC,”

“.... I think that’ll work out just fine either way,”

“Hm,” Bruce looks curiously at her as she hides away her sketch book, she would be using those designs either way.

“Anyway!” She changes the topic oh so subtly, “About those reporters…”

“Theres a certain rumour running rampant that you are a Wayne, after someone took a photo of you with my son at the airport,” Bruce explains, switching over to business mode in a heat beat, she could appreciate that, “We’ve been doing our best to contain it, but…”

“At the airport…” She mutters to herself, “Oh! Tim’s your son, that explains Alfred, that must mean Dick is too!... work at Wayne tower, yeah very funny,”

She tries not to roll her eyes at their understatement of the century, wasn't Tim Drake a CEO there?

“Impressive, have you met Damian too?” Bruce asks, a slight smile that would have called Kagami expressive.

“Not yet, but should I invest in a bingo card?”

“Maybe so,”

They fall into silence Marinette would usually hold polite conversation but her thoughts were in turmoil. Lila didn’t seem to know anything about the miraculous then again her interrogation was cut short by a certain someone . However Tikki had advised her against placing all the blame on Lila, she needed to consider other options as well. But who else could it be? she was in Gotham Hawkmoth couldn't reach her… unless he somehow...

“Marinette are you alright?”

Marinette startles look over at Bruce who is blurred by tears. She hadn't even realised she’d been crying.

“I-I’m sorry,” She hiccups trying fruitlessly to wipe away the tears, “I-it just…”

“It’s ok,” Bruce rubs her back comfortingly, but boy did he choose the wrong words.

“IT’S NOT OK!” Marinette yells not looking at anyone in the car, they didn’t matter, nothing else mattered, she had failed and people were going to suffer for it, “I left it behind! It’s all my fault! Now it’s GONE! It’s been stolen and I don’t know where it is!”

“What was stolen?” Bruce presses, getting over the shock of the polite and put together girl melting down into a puddle of sobs.

Now I’ve gone and messed up, time for a classic cover story and some half truths

“A good friend of mine gave me a very important jewellery box,” Marinette sighs, wiping the tears away and rebuilding herself, “It was stolen shortly after arriving in Gotham and I’ve been trying to find it,”

“Do you know who stole it?”

“I thought it was one of my classmates,” Marinette frowns, they should have certainly been there by now, “Still do honestly,”

“Which one?”

“Lila probably,” Marinette tries to keep her tone neutral, tries, “Brown hair that looks like sausages,”

Marinette could almost see the words ‘oh fuck’ written across his face.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, we have arrived,” Alfred speaks up for the first time, not leaving her time to puzzle over the reaction, “Your class arrived some time ago,”

“How did that happen?” Marinette frowns, they should have arrived ages ago.

“Alfred must have taken the scenic route,” Bruce shrugs, acting like an innocent party in all this.

“Well then I guess I’ll see you for the wedding,” Marinette tries not to rush out of the car, certain her class or rather Lila would have caused some grief by now.

“I’ll make sure to send the invites to your family personally,” Bruce promises, shaking her hand before she can run off.

“And I’ll make sure Auntie Selina doesn’t destroy them,” Marinette smiles back brightly, she can see the concern for her all over Bruce's face but doesn't have time to reassure him.

Marinette walks into the indoor pool, knowing her luck the class was already inside. They were and the owner was not happy about it.

“First your class was late then you waltz in here late as well?” The manager berates her.

“I’m sorry sir,” Marinette tries to seem more sincere but her tardiness falls short on the things she has to worry about now.

“That class mate of yours came an yelled at me that one of our pools were dirty so we had to drain the whole thing,”

“Let me guess, sausage hair?” Marinette raises a bow, it really being all the energy she can put into the action.

“Yes,”

“Sorry sir I’ll talk with her,” Marinette promises, she slips into the changing rooms as they grumble about lazy employees.

There is absolutely no way Marinette was going to talk to Lila. She enters the changing room, a shower running somewhere. She tucks Tikki and Kaalki into her bag, Tikki had insisted she relax today, recharge and get ready to find the miraculous. She couldn’t find enough will to argue not after having to wake up in the middle of the night to fight an Akuma back in Paris.

She slowly changes into a red and orange ruffled one piece swimwear. She honestly just wanted to take a nap in here, hide away from the class and the well meaning questions from her friends. Instead she drags herself towards the shower, they are all open and there's someone towards the back standing underneath the spray in their bathers.

Something fires back at her to be careful, it puts her on edge but with miraculously potentially loose in Gotham city it’s no wonder her instincts are screaming at her. Instead she steps under the spray hoping to loosen up.

She doesn't, after standing there for ten minutes she still can’t relax. Maybe it’s the cold water, maybe its the other person. The were still standing there, they had been in the shower even before she entered the changing room. Marinette peaks over, they are still standing still, with their arm out… the same way they had been ten minutes ago.

“Are you ok?” Marinette calls, no answer, not even a twitch.

Marinette creeps over. They are standing stock still, she can’t see evidence of them so much as breathing.

“Hello,” Her voice echoes off the tiles, not a noise in the empty room besides from the shower running.

She is right behind them, they haven't even moved, arm still raised. She walks around to see their face. Frozen in a look of concentration, not so much as blinking with water running into their eyes. She follows their eyeline to see them peeling off dead skin from their arm, stretching towards their fingertips. There's a faint glow of yellow all around them, concentrated at their back.

Marinette steps away, walking out the showers, she closes the nearest door to find herself in the pool area. Her friends are on the other side. Kagami is dunking Adrien as Chloe waves her over. Marinette sprints over to them.

��No running!” The life guard yells.

But that doesn't matter, all that matters is that there is someone using the bee miraculous for evil, she has to stop them before they get another Hawkmoth. They probably have the whole miracle box! She'll need the back up.

“Mari-”

“Come with me,” She doesn't let them have another question helping Adrien out of the pool.

She pulls them along despite Chloe's protests, pushing them through the door.

“Mari what's-”

“Hush now Buttercup,”

“You were serious?” Adrien gasps, Chloe just giggles.

“Yes,” She walks over to the frozen body, “Look at this,”

“Whats-” Chloe pokes them, immediately recoiling, “The fuck?”

“They’re frozen,” Kagami does the same.

“We have to help them,” Adrien waves in front of their face, looking on in horror.

“We have to hide them,” Chloe pokes them again, getting slapped away by Kagami.

“We have to find the culprit,” Marinette races at the idea that this could be the Bee miraculous.

“We’ll do all three,” Kagami decides, getting their attention, “Now first let's put them in a stall so we don’t alarm anyone or the villain, then we need to look for clues,"

They all nod, Marinette turns the water off. Adrien tries to move their arm to no avail.

“Looks like we have to carry them,” Adrien suggests, he and Marinette each taking an arm.

“Ew, no I’m not touching it Buttercup!” Chloe cringes away, backing up as Kagami lifts a leg off the ground.

“Has that really stuck?” Adrien asks Marinette, as Kagami sends Chloe a powerful enough death glare to get her to help.

“You bet Buttercup,” Marinette grins, as they shuffle through the changing rooms to the toilet stalls.

“Fine then, I’m calling you Cupcake,” Adrien teases, sticking out his tongue.

“As you wish Buttercup,”

“Someone get the door,” Kagami commands.

“I will!” Chloe lets go of the leg, the body becoming no heavier.

They manage to fit them inside the stall without too much hassle.

“Who could have done this?” Adrien looks on sadly at the person, tilted at a slight angle to fit into the stall.

“I’ve been thinking,” Marinette speaks up, “If this is a villain it doesn't make much sense to attack a random person, and if they were trying to be stealthy they would have hidden the body,”

“They aren’t dead!” Adrien says aghast.

“Exactly, why wouldn’t a villain just kill them?”

“That's very dark of you Cupcake,” Kagami says, missing Adrien’s pout, “What’s your theory?”

“This is likely a new villain, one not ready to kill,” Marinette decides, not even blinking at the nickname, “They have something against the pool, they probably want to ruin its reputation,”

“You did say that this was a very safe pool for Gotham,” Chloe closes the stall door, “Minimal murders, so why would someone want to ruin it?”

“Insurance? Sick of their job?” Marinette’s eyes go wide in realisation, “The pool!”

She darts out the changing room the others close on her heels.

“No Running!”

“Where are we going!?”

“The manager said they were refilling the pool,”

“Why- oh my god,” Chloe gasps, overtaking the lot of them, “Run faster!”

They burst into another pool room, the pool noticeable empty with diving boards on the other end. They run to the edge of the pool. A frozen body wearing employee uniform frozen at the bottom the water slowly rising.

“Get them out! Get them out!”

Marinette jumps down into the pool, causing a splash, the water is up to her ankles, barely a centimeter from covering the person at the bottom. She runs over and tries to pull them up. Kagami makes a splash behind her running over to help. They drag the person, frozen in horror the yellow focused on their chest instead. The pool is far too deep to climb out of so they pass the body up to Adrien and Chloe.

“Who would do this?!” Adrien can just reach them when Marinette and Kagami lift the person over their heads.

“I heard the manager mutter about lazy employees,” Marinette gives one last push, Chloe and Adrien pull them up over the edge.

“So we have a suspect,” Kagami says, water rising up her leg, “We should check their office next,”

“Well, they went from no murder to yes murder in record time,” Chloe huffs, the employee safely to the side.

“It’s concerning, but they may have more of a grudge against them than the other person,” Marinette points Kagami towards the ladder to get out.

“More evidence towards the manager,” Kagami nods, letting her up the ladder first, “We should choose codenames if the manager is potentially familiar with us,”

“They did have the class roster,” Marinette nods along, then grins, “You should be Teacup!”

“Fine by me,” Kagami nods, not showing how happy she truly is with the nickname.

“Oh I want to be-” Chloe cuts herself off head snapping towards the door.

They hear scratching at the door, everyone tenses. Marinette crouches in a position to defend her friends. The door slowly creeps open and… a little snout pokes through followed by the rest of the dog.

“Is this what you wanted to see Cuppy?” A person wearing a lifeguard uniform follows in a second later.

“Excuse me is your dog named Cuppy?” Marinette plasters on a fake smile quickly pulling a nearby towel over the body.

“Yes it’s a weird name I know,”

“No! It’s perfect! On another note could we please borrow your dog?”

“Um... sure?”

“Thank you, we have to go! Careful the pool is empty!” She calls as they race out the room, the person tucked away out of sight, “Come on Cuppy!”

"NO RUNNING!"

The dog wags its tail following them out the pool area and through the changing rooms. They come to stand outside the staffroom door, dripping water on the carpet.

“Everyone ready?” Marinette asks, hand on the door, they nod and Cuppy lets out an 'off', the door slowly creaks open.

Marinette looks through to see, nothing, the hallway is desolate and dark.

“It’s safe,”

“You call that safe?” Adrien pokes his head through the door, followed by Chloe and Kagami.

“Be brave Buttercup be brave,” With that Chloe pushes him into the corridor.

They creep along the empty hallway, footsteps echoing around them. The manager's office door could be seen at the end of the hall. Gold color plate glinting in the few stray beams of light filtering through. Marinette could feel every hair stand on end, danger seeming to lurk from every shadow in the dark hall. The pressure of something ready to pounce and immobilise them at any moment hung heavy in the air, dragging them down into a pressure that-

“HIC!”

Everyone jumps out of their skins, Adrien actually hits the ceiling, rubbing his head on the way down. Kagami draws her sword, Marinette falls into a defensive position.

“Hic!”

“Chloe!

“I’m sorry! Hic! It’s not like I can help it! Hic,”

“Thats it! You’re Hiccup!” Kagami snaps, Marinette tries not to snort.

‘What?!” Chloe screeches stamping her foot, “No way!”

“Deal with it and lower your voices!” Marinette shouts, Cuppy barks along, “Not you too Cuppy?”

Another yip

“Traitor,”

“Cupcake stop picking fights with the dog and lets move on,” Adrien implores, still rubbing his head.

Marinette rolls her eyes speed walking to the manager's office before the tension rises again. The reach outside the door, Marinette counts down to three on her fingers and they burst through the door.

Inside is silent, the bright light blinds them for a second, she shuffles in front of her friends acting as a shield, waiting for them to adjust. When she does she sees the desk chair is turned away, Cuppy pads forward Marinette doesn't grab his collar in time.

He starts licking someone's hand, Marinette creeps around the desk, waiting for the hand to snap out and grab her. The others follow, surrounding the chair preparing to come face to face with the villain. She peeks around the edge they are sitting there, she freezes the others following her lead. A beat, another one, nothing. They’re frozen.

“It’s not the manager,” She relaxes, patting Cuppy’s head.

She lets out a sigh, releasing all her tension.

BAM

Turning around the door is slammed shut, a striped villain standing before it. They all drop into a fighting stance watching for the stinger on their right hand. Cuppy starts wagging his tail, trying to approach the villain.

“Cuppy no,” Marinette grabs his harness, bringing the Pitbull back.

“He’s my therapy dog,” The villain growls, Cuppy wagging his tail happily.

“Not a very good one is he?” Chloe sneers, looking the villain wearing her stripes up and down with disgust.

“Wait, you’re the lifeguard at the pool?” Marinette gasps, maybe she really shouldn't have run, “Why did you-”

“I work here, you can’t imagine the horrors I face every day, people are disgusting,” The villain shudders, this was the guy who stole the miracle box?

“Yes, but murder?” Kagami gets a nod from Chloe and hissed at by Adrien.

“My co workers are completely useless and the boss always yells at me,” A sinister smirk crosses their face, “Or at least they did,”

“So you thought murder before you thought quitting ,” Adrien points out, probably not the best time to imply a villain is stupid.

“I didn’t kill anyone,”

“Ah yeah thanks to us!”

“Shut up!” They lash out at Chloe, stinging her in a single strike.

“Run!” Marinette shouts, they all scatter.

Marinette dodges the first swipe, ducking down. They get distracted by Kagami lashing out. Marinette darts around them to get closer to the door, Kagami gets hit. Marinette reaches the door the villain comes after her, they are inches away. Adrien leaps in front of her, getting stung. With the distraction Marinette bursts out the door Cuppy on her heels.

“Traitor,” She sprints down the hall, “Did you know?”

Cuppy happily pants beside her. She can hear the villain banging around the corridor behind her and runs faster. She dodges into a room around the corner, hiding among the pool noodles. She sees the shadow pass under the door. Pause. She holds her breath intently watching the shadow, she has no one, not even Tikki. He heart beat rises, she can feel her breaths shorten, this is it, this is it, this is it, this is-

Something nuzzles her hand, she looks down to see Cuppy. He starts to lick her hand, letting her relax into it, focusing on him as the shadow continues on. With a sigh Marinette starts to take off her skirt, flipping it inside out to the cape side.

“You aren't going to tell anyone about this are you?” Marinette asks Cuppy, right before pulling up her mask, he lets out a happy bark, “Good boy,”

She sneaks out the room, looking up and down the clear hallway. She walks the opposite way of the office. She doesn't need to see her friends paralysed, she just needs to help them, she just needs to fix her mistake.

She reaches the pool area, hiding behind a lounge chair, watching through the slats as the villain gathers everyone together. Starling sneaks closer, Cuppy on her heels. There are several civilians, locals if their calm demeanour is anything to go by, although they do seem uneasy at an unknown villain. Her class is significantly less calm.

She had told them time and again that there was no coming back in Gotham, no miraculous cure. It seems for once they had decided to listen to her. Unfortunately they did not do well under pressure. Lila of course was aggravating the situation, making empty threats. The villain reared up to silence her and man, Marinette could relate.

“I don’t suppose I can wait a minute can I?” She whispers to Cuppy, he settle a paw on her knee, letting out a quiet whine, “I guess that’s a no,”

She runs up behind the villain, signalling the civilians to be quiet. Lila looks down at her, anger flashing over her face. Starling bears her teeth right back, she can just try it. Lila ultimately decides her life is more precious than petty revenge, a hard choice for her to be sure.

Starling stands up to her full height behind the villain tapping them on the shoulder. They turn around in surprise, to find her dazzling smile. But the real thing that makes them see stars is her right hook. As the fall Starling rips the bee miraculously right out of their hair, their transformation falling. Marinette stands above them as they detransform, Pollen hiding behind her. It makes her stomach churn watching them detransform, looking up at her with fear. The twisting of her insides lessens when Cuppy nuzzles up next to her. She busies herself with hiding the miraculous away.

“It’s them!” Lila screeches, ah now she can get to that petty revenge, “The one that kidnapped me!”

“Look what you did,” Staling bites instead, looking down at the villain.

“I had nothing to do with this!” Starling is highly entertained when Cuppy growls at Lila, actually getting her to back off.

“Sure you didn’t,” Starling openly rolls their eyes, grabbing the villain and hauling them up by their shirt, "Where is the rest!"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!" She scowls, making them whimper, guess they really didn't know,

Shit

"Where did you get this?" She holds up the miraculous.

"I found it! it was just lying out on the street!"

Shit

"Did you see any others?!"

"No!" the blubber swearing by it and begging for mercy.

Shit

The police sirens can now be heard, Starling drops them and runs from the room.

“NO RUNNING!” She turns on her heel and glares down at the villain, “... sorry, it’s a reflex,”

She nods running from the room to change, grabbing her bag with Tikki and Kaalki on the way. After a small celebration at finding another miraculous and reunion with Pollen, they have to make a plan to find the other miraculous. They are cut short when sirens are heard outside. She wears the Bee miraculous under her ponytail, to keep it hidden from view.

When she is ready she goes to find her friends. They are outside talking to the police. Marinette only gets the chance to signal she’s ok before being intercepted by officers to get her statement. When she’s retold her account of trying to find the pool freezer she is finally allowed to check on her friends.

“Hey Cupcake, glad to see you missed all the fun,” Chloe teases.

“Sorry Hiccup,” Marinette looks her in the eye deadly serious grasping each shoulder, “You were an adequate shield,”

“Shut it,” Chloe pushes her away playfully.

“Teacup, Buttercup are you alright?”

“It was nothing,” Kagami assures.

“Didn’t you guys think their powers were a lot like Queen Bees?”

“You would know Hiccup,” She nudges Chloe playfully, “If it was I think we should keep that to ourselves, wouldn't want that information somehow getting back to Hawkmoth,”

She looks purposefully towards Lila, the others nod along.

“Still some random person now might have the miraculous,” Chloe glares down at the ground, “Can we really trust this Starling person,”

I mean no I'm operating on negative six hours of sleep, but also yes

“I don’t think we have much other choice,”

“Marinette,” She freezes at that familiar, low gravelly voice.

“Batman, sir,” She adds, trying to look like someone who wasn't chased down by him yesterday, “How can I help you?”

“I heard you knew the most about this villain,” How did she get in trouble for interrogating Lila when this is how he talks to civilians.

“Not really I just found someone paralysed and tried to find the culprit,” Marinette shrugs, hoping her friends wouldn't point out that she is lying to The Batman.

“You didn’t call the police,”

Well thats a good point, not that I would have

“... To be honest it absolutely did not occur to me,”

“These abilities were spontaneous and now they seem to be gone,” Batman points out, damn he already knows too much, “Do you know what caused this?”

“I do not,”

“Very well,” Batman nods turning away, “Go to your class,”

“Yes sir,” Marinette walks away far too quickly.

How was she going to search the city with that hunting her down?!

--------------

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lingthusiasm · 4 years

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Transcript Lingthusiasm Episode 54: How linguists figure out the grammar of a language

This is a transcript for Lingthusiasm Episode 54: How linguists figure out the grammar of a language. It’s been lightly edited for readability. Listen to the episode here or wherever you get your podcasts. Links to studies mentioned and further reading can be found on the Episode 54 show notes page.

[Music]

Gretchen: Welcome to Lingthusiasm, a podcast that’s enthusiastic about linguistics! I’m Gretchen McCulloch.

Lauren: I’m Lauren Gawne. Today we’re getting enthusiastic about how grammars come into existence. But first, we are doing a liveshow in April. We will be doing a liveshow recording on the internet so that we can all be in the same place at the same time on Saturday the 24th of April, Eastern Daylight Savings Time in North America, which will be early on a Sunday morning for us here Australia.

Gretchen: That’ll be 6:00 p.m. for me on Eastern Daylight Time. We will include a link to a time zone converter so you can figure out when that is for you.

Lauren: We’ll be doing the whole show about backchanneling, which is all those ways that you –

Gretchen: Mm-hmm.

Lauren: – actively listen to someone as they’re talking. Thank you for that excellent backchanneling, Gretchen. Something I think a lot about in our era of lots of video calls and online chats.

Gretchen: You can’t see me, but I’m doing a thumbs up right now.

Lauren: Excellent backchanneling.

Gretchen: These are some kinds of backchanneling. We’re gonna be talking about lots more. I think it’s fun to do a liveshow about backchanneling because it means that you get to backchannel in the chat while the show’s going on and chat with each other. That’ll be fun. We’re running the ticketing of the show through Patreon. If you’re a patron, you’ll automatically get a link to the liveshow to join. If you’d like to become a patron, you can also do that to get access to the liveshow stream.

Lauren: Patrons also get access to our recent bonus episode on reduplication as well as 48 other bonus episodes because we have almost 50 now.

Gretchen: That’s a lot! Lots of Lingthusiasm for patrons, which helps keep the show running.

Lauren: Our liveshow is part of LingFest, while will be taking place across the last week of April, which is an online series of events about linguistics. You can find out more about LingFest at lingcomm.org/lingfest.

Gretchen: That’s “comm” with two Ms as in “communication.” Speaking of LingComm, if you’re interested in communicating linguistics to broader audiences, you can also join the LingComm conference, which is a conference for practitioners of linguistics communication such as ourselves and many other cool LingCommers to learn from each other and help produce more interesting and engaging materials for all of you.

Lauren: LingComm, the conference, is taking place online the week of April the 19th.

Gretchen: You can also go to lingcomm.org/conference to see the schedule and other details there.

Lauren: That’s “comm” with two Ms.

[Music]

Gretchen: Lauren, how many people would you say you know who have written a grammar of a language?

Lauren: Hmm, okay, well, both my PhD supervisors. I’d say half the people in the department that I current work in. I have written a grammar of a language. This is a perfectly common activity among my professional cohort. I assume it’s a thing most people do and know about, so we don’t really have to explain it for this episode at all. This is fine.

Gretchen: [Laughs] Yeah, I would say that at least several of the people that I went to grad school with – not necessarily at my university – people I knew from conferences, professors that I knew – one professor I knew had her grammar come out the same year that her baby came out, and she posted a photo of the grammar and the baby, which were about the same size, on Facebook after that happened. It was really cute.

Lauren: Grammars definitely take longer than nine months to gestate. I can definitely confirm that.

Gretchen: I have not written a grammar. So, when someone’s going about writing a grammar, what – okay, here’s a language. There isn’t a grammar written or the grammar that’s written of it is not adequate. What do I do to start?

Lauren: What you’re talking about is taking all of the amazing complexity of how humans use language and finding the rules that reoccur within a particular language and then finding a way of articulating that concisely in written form in a grammar so that, by the end, you’ve worked through most of the common features you find in this language – all of the variations and irregularities – and you’ve put that into some kind of readable book format for other people to then learn about how the grammar of this language works. That is the overarching aim of this endeavour.

Gretchen: I’ve consulted grammars in the process of doing linguistics. I have the Cambridge Grammar of the English Language sitting on my desk. When I was in grad school, I spent a lot of time consulting Valentine (2001)’s grammar of Nishnaabemwin. There are grammars that I’ve consulted. They’re 1,000 pages, 2,000 pages long. Sometimes you’ve got a really massive grammar. Sometimes you get a shorter sketch grammar. They have certain similarities in the structure and the types of things that people cover in a grammar.

Lauren: Absolutely. You tend to start, traditionally, with smaller bits and work upwards. You’re likely to find a description, if it’s a spoken language, of the sound system or, if it’s a signed language, of the hand shape and body space phonology at the beginning of the book and then work up to word-level – you probably expect if a language has adjectives, a section on adjectives, which we’ve talked about before.

Gretchen: We have talked a little bit about adjectives.

Lauren: And then if you’re look at sentence-level stuff, like asking a question, how you do that, it happens at the level of the sentence, that tends to be more towards the end. You’re going from smaller bits up to bigger bits. It really depends on the tradition. We talked about lumpers and splitters before. If you like to split things down, a grammar is great because you can have so many sub-headings. I remember reading the rules for one set of grammars where it was like, “Please do not go beyond five layers of headings,” and I was like, “That’s actually quite a challenge.”

Gretchen: Because you have your chapter level headings, and then you’re like, “Oh, okay, if this chapter’s about verbs, you’ve got this type of verbs and those type of verbs – within the transitive verbs, you’ve got this type of verbs and those type of verbs,” and so on and so forth.

Lauren: Then you’ve got the irregularities. They might need their own subset. You can go from – the table of contents, you can get this big picture and then go down and down and down into the different sections. The grammar that I wrote of Lamjung Yolmo was a sketch grammar, so it’s only a couple of hundred pages. It makes sure to knock over – it would be very weird to have nothing about nouns in a language that very obviously has nouns – but it doesn’t go into the deep level of detail on some things that a longer grammar gets to. There’s always more to be done as well.

Gretchen: Any grammar is gonna be incomplete – even these massive doorstop-sized grammars. You’re gonna leave some stuff out where you’re a speaker and you’re like, “I know this,” but you don’t necessarily include it in a grammar. I’ve also read, in grad school – I don’t remember what language it was of – but I picked up this grammar that was written in, like, I wanna say maybe the 70s or 80s. There was clearly some sort of fad for doing this very abstract schematic thing of sentences or verbs or something. It didn’t have any complete sentences or complete verbs just written there. It drew them all on this diagram that I have never encountered before or since where everything was piece-able together. I was like, “Oh, wow. You’re participating in some sort of grammatical tradition that I’m just not aware of here.”

Lauren: I mean, I think the important thing is that grammars are written by humans, and humans are trained by other humans within particular traditions. I remember when I was building my sketch grammar, it was while I was also working on my thesis because I was looking specifically at evidentials, but you can’t know what’s happening with evidentiality without understanding how verbs work and how verbs relate to other parts of the sentence. And then I realised I was accidentally on my way to writing out the bones of the grammar of Lamjung Yolmo.

Gretchen: Sometimes you just accidentally write a grammar.

Lauren: That is how I accidentally started and very deliberately finished writing that sketch grammar. But I remember talking to my supervisors. One of them found it quite unusual that I wanted to include the methodology in my grammar. I wanted to explain specifically who I’d worked with, what I’d recorded, what kinds of elicitation I’d used. That wasn’t in that supervisor’s grammar tradition, but it was something I wanted to include.

Gretchen: A lot of grammars aren’t gonna include the gestures of the language or something, which I know is one of your things that you enjoy.

Lauren: Yes. There are traditions that do focus more on narrative structure, and you might find more about the structure of narratives in a grammar, and others that focus more on verb structure. There’s a very brief few pages on phonetics and then a really massive chapter on verbs. It’s sometimes because the language has lots of really fun, complex things happening with the verbs, but sometimes it’s just because that’s what that person was interested in.

Gretchen: This person was a verb fan.

Lauren: Yeah.

Gretchen: Some parts, you know, it’d be pretty hard to do a grammar without doing some level of phonology at the beginning. But, yeah, what level of pragmatic stuff at the end, discourse stuff, or like, “How do people of this language talk to children?” or something like that – that might not be in a grammar.

Lauren: I’m doing a paper with a colleague on onomatopoeia at the moment. Some grammars will have a separate section on that. Because it’s not as central to every single sentence as, say, nouns and verbs can be for a lot of languages, it doesn’t tend to crop up as its own specific subsection in a lot of grammars.

Gretchen: Which doesn’t necessarily mean that language doesn’t have onomatopoeia. It’s just that it didn’t get the focused attention that got put there.

Lauren: This is always the question that you have while reading a grammar, right. It’s about what makes it in, but it’s also what doesn’t. Sometimes things don’t make it in because of trends or because of what people are focusing on or sometimes just because they’re important but incredibly low-frequency things that happen. Or if someone is doing fieldwork, and they come into a community as a man, they might spend a lot of time around other men and recording a particular variety. That’s where the methodology was really important for me to make clear why I was making choices. Also, the title of a grammar – I find it really interesting whether people say, “The Grammar of” or “A Grammar of.” I, very consciously, called it, “A Grammar” or “A Sketch Grammar of Lamjung Yolmo” because this is just my analysis and my take. Other people might come to exactly the same data with different conclusions. Or they might be way more into adjectives than I am, and that section is way more fleshed out in someone else’s analysis.

Gretchen: That’s an interesting side effect, as you were saying about, okay, well, if we wanna look at onomatopoeia in a bunch of languages, or if you wanna look at any sort of thing whether it’s verbs or sounds or handshapes or something in a bunch of different languages, okay, how can – if you’re making those beautiful graphs like are in the WALS database, which we’ve mentioned before, or if you’re gonna write a Wikipedia article about like, “Here’s how this language works,” or “Here’s how this phenomenon works,” the grammars turn into this input material of what gets cited there.

Lauren: Those big overviews are often built up from these grammars of different languages. That’s where having structures that are easy for people to access in the table of contents becomes really easy because, just as a human writing the grammar, there’s another human reading that grammar to put into those databases.

Gretchen: Dictionaries are often a very collaborative project where you have a bunch of people contributing words or contributing entries. You can say, “Okay, you need to take care of the letter P and see what’s going on here.” But a grammar is often written by one person, and so it reflects that one person.

Lauren: Almost, like the very overwhelming majority of the time, it’s people who aren’t members of that community. It’s a linguist who’s trained as a linguist and then come into this community and often built incredibly long-term, deep relationships with those communities and speak the language but not always. I know I’m kind of – it’s very easy to over-problematise something you do and spend a lot of time thinking about but, again, it’s worth remembering while reading a grammar.

Gretchen: Right. And what types of things you think are interesting, what types of things you think are novel or worth drawing attention to, or what types of things you think are common is a function of what you’ve been exposed to from a grammatical tradition. I’ve been thinking a lot about this question of “What do we put in a grammar” and “How is a grammar constructed by the societal context in which it’s written” because I’ve been reading this book called, Grammar West to East, by Edward McDonald. The subtitle is “The Investigation of Linguistic Meaning in European and Chinese Traditions.”

Lauren: Cool.

Gretchen: I will say, at the beginning, this is an academic book. It is a monograph. If you don’t have a background in linguistics, you’ll find it fairly dense going, potentially. But, as someone who does, it’s really interesting.

Lauren: Awesome! Pick out the anecdotes for us.

Gretchen: One of the first observations that it makes – and, when you think about this, it’s totally true – is that – so the European grammatical tradition is based on Latin and Greek. Latin and Greek are languages where you do a lot of changing the endings on words – sometimes the prefixes, but often the endings – on words to make them do grammatical things. The European grammatical tradition is a lot about making tables of all of the different ways that a word can inflect and being like, “Well, it does this and it does this,” and giving names to the different sorts of groupings and patterns that you find out of that.

Lauren: Which is great, but doing those things, it makes it a little bit confusing sometimes when you apply it to a language like English that doesn’t have the same ending changes, but we give them the same labels. That’s because the analysis of English is very much in that Latin tradition.

Gretchen: It’s inherited from the Latin tradition. There’s a pedagogical motivation for some of this because Latin and Greek were not just the languages that started out analysing themselves, although they were that as well, but they were also considered prestigious languages that you needed to learn. So, a lot of the grammatical analysis of Greek and especially Latin were in terms of how to teach them to speakers of other European languages. And it’s like, “Here’s a bunch of endings, and you need to learn them, and you need to learn what they correspond to and what their function is.”

Lauren: Right.

Gretchen: What’s interesting is that the grammar of Chinese is different from that. They don’t do endings. What they do instead is you have things that have a grammatical function, but they’re considered to have the same status as full words. And so, the Chinese grammatical tradition is concerned with looking at those particles that have grammatical functions but are hard to write definitions of and cataloguing them and figuring out what’s going on with them and grouping them into groups. There are some words in the European tradition that are invariant – they’re often all lumped together in “adjectives” – words like “often,” or “always,” or something like that, which are – they just look like that all the time. They don’t have endings like the verbs and the nouns do. The Latin tradition grammarians didn’t care about those words, and they were really into the endings. The Chinese grammarians were really interested in, first of all, this fundamental duality between words that had a meaning to them, had what they called, “full words,” and words that were only for their grammatical function, what they called, “empty words.”

Lauren: That is a great metaphor. I like it.

Gretchen: Also, because culturally they were really interested in dualities, you know, the sun and the moon, and the full words and the empty words, and having a nice, mirrored duality was really appealing to them for aesthetic reasons in the same way that the European grammatical tradition is often descended from the rhetorical tradition because they were really interested in the aesthetics of rhetoric when it came to doing that sort of analysis. What your culture’s into aesthetically brings forth, okay, what are we trying to explain this. So, both of these are sort of ancient history, you know. Around 2,000 years ago they were the beginnings of this doing their own analysis grammatical traditions. You get this really interesting descriptive grammar that was published in 1898 by China’s first grammarian, Ma Jianzhong, called, Mr Ma’s Compleat Grammar, which I think is great.

Lauren: That is an excellent late-1800s name of a book.

Gretchen: It is exactly of a particular era. It’s “compleat,” E-A-T, not E-T-E, which is just –

Lauren: Perfect.

Gretchen: He was a native speaker of Chinese who had also been educated by Jesuits in French, and so he had exposure to both the French and the Chinese grammatical traditions. He writes this grammar where he distinguishes between full and empty words the way that the Chinese had – introduced these particles to be these “empty words” – but he also further subdivides the full words into the lexical categories that Europeans had been doing, which are verbs and nouns and so on. This distinction between verbs and nouns and so on was really important to the Europeans because verbs and nouns have different types of endings. You know whether something’s a verb or a noun because the endings are all different because this is a really endings-based grammatical system. The modern linguistic conception of how languages and their structures work is, to a certain extent, a hybrid of that because these full and empty grammatical categories is now reflected in what linguists call, “content words” and “function words.”

Lauren: Yes.

Gretchen: You have words like, “dog,” and “cat,” and “run,” and “see,” and stuff like that where you can actually write a definition, and then you have your grammatical words like “of,” and “is,” and “to,” and stuff, which just have this grammatical function. So, this category that’s still really relevant in modern linguistics is there in one country’s grammatical tradition, but also modern linguistics does also still talk about “nouns” and “verbs.”

Lauren: Absolutely.

Gretchen: The history of the contact between these two grammatical traditions and how they figured out how to adapt things to each other is an interesting way of looking at what is it that we think of as important when we’re trying to write a grammar of a particular language or we’re trying to do grammar. A lot of ancient grammar traditions were really concerned with describing one very prestigious, golden-age language – or one or two – you’ve gotta write your grammar of Latin or of Greek or of Old Chinese because that’s the one everyone thinks is fancy. And the local vernacular that ordinary peoples talk, like, no, no one’s gonna write a grammar of that. It’s a very interesting way of thinking about, okay, what were people concerned about and how did those interests derive from the structure of the language or languages that they were familiar with.

Lauren: This book sounds so great, but I wonder if actually the title of it should be, “Grammars from East to West,” because if we look where our modern tradition of writing grammars in Europe is, it’s very much motivated by those Latin grammars and grammarians of old, but it’s also very influenced by Paṇini and the Sanskrit grammarian tradition that is two-and-a-half, three thousand years old as well.

Gretchen: One of the things that I was thinking about reading this, being like, “Wow!” – I knew some of the stuff about the European tradition, not all of it, but I didn’t know most of the stuff about ancient China – thinking, “I know that there was a really interesting grammatical tradition going on in India, like, right between these two major geographical regions.” There’s a bunch of stuff going on in Arabic as well, at a slightly later time. Can I have a book that writes about all four of these, please, in comparison to each other?

Lauren: Yeah. I know very little about the Arabic tradition. Most linguists at least know the name “Paṇini” That first N has a little dot under it in English, so it has a kind of palatalised vibe, but it also means his name is great. I know more than one university that has the “Paṇini Café and Sandwich Shop” because that’s a great multilingual pun to use.

Gretchen: Who can resist a pun? I learned a bit about the Arabic grammatical tradition when I was taking a bit of Arabic in undergrad. There are a whole bunch of things that that grammatical tradition does also in the tradition of “We’re going to look at our language and catalogue it in exhaustive detail and figure out exactly what’s going on in it.” One of the things that I remember was that there’s an exhaustive catalysation of what they call the “binyan,” which are the templates that you can slot your three-consonant roots into, and how you put the vowels in between them that mean all of these different things.

Lauren: Because Arabic is very interested in what happens in shifting the vowels of the language rather than what happens at the end of a word like the Latin tradition.

Gretchen: It’s very relevant in Arabic all of the different things you can do with the vowels in between them and whether, maybe, you double a consonant in a particular context or you put this vowel here or that vowel there. The classic tri-consonantal root that everybody cites is K-T-B, /k/-/t/-/b/, which has to do with books and writing. “Kitab” is “a book,” and “kutub” is “books,” and “maktab is “office,” and “kataba” is “He writes.” You can do all sorts of things with those three consonants and how you arrange the vowels between them. There’s an abstract way of representing “Here’s what the patterns are” with a template verb that you can show all the patterns with and going through and exhaustively cataloguing the patterns. This is the exciting thing to do if you’re an ancient Arabic grammarian. I’m excited by just thinking about it. But that’s very much influenced by the structure of the language. I don’t know as much about what Paṇini was doing except for the fact that he gets cited in a lot of Intro Linguistics classes as the first grammarian.

Lauren: Part of why he gets cited a lot is because he’s excellent. I’ll talk about that. I think part of why as well is that Paṇini synthesized and brought together everything that had been happening in the Sanskrit grammar tradition. Sanskrit is kind of like the Indian linguistic area equivalent of Latin, which is that it was the language of sacred texts and religion. It’s a language that is still handed down. People still learn Sanskrit in the way they learn Latin. But in that area, languages like Hindi and Nepali, the Indo-Aryan languages, are all later siblings and children of Sanskrit. It’s a very convenient analogy to Latin to draw with Sanskrit. I think, also, the motivation for thinking a lot about the language came from a theological attempt within Hinduism to understand truth through language and understand how language works. It was one of the core areas of study within the larger religious tradition. So, that was the motivation. But Paṇini – we know his name. We know not too much else about him except that he wrote at least two-and-a-half thousand years ago. He synthesized this work, and he name drops ten other people whose work he draws on. We’ve lost the record of all of their work. I think he’s excellent. That’s not in dispute. But it’s also just a convenient prominence he receives through being the kind of earliest record we have when the work was going on for thousands of years behand.

Gretchen: The person whose manuscript survives with his name attached to it.

Lauren: Absolutely. A very convenient way to appear to be very excellent is just to have none of the foundational work you draw on exist still.

Gretchen: No. This is like the Library of Alexandria all over again.

Lauren: What made Paṇini’s approach really distinct – and distinct from what was happening with those learner-driven motivations for analysing Latin – is that there was a logical progress to how he set out his description of Sanskrit. Similar to what we talked about with modern grammars where you start with the base elements of the sound system and then build up to words and parts of words. If something goes on a word after another bit, so you’ll describe the earlier bits first and build outwards. It’s this logical order and progression.

Gretchen: In a very real sense, the order that Paṇini devised over 2,500 years ago is reflected in the order of the grammar that you wrote a few years ago?

Lauren: It’s absolutely not an accident. The early 20th Century linguists like Saussure, Franz Bopp, where directly reading Paṇini and going, “This guy was doing this stuff thousands of years before we started thinking about it” and were directly influenced by Paṇini’s approach to thinking about how the language worked and thinking about it very descriptively. This is why he’s known as the first grammarian within even the Western tradition because he was like, “Look, there’s these words and they have these histories, but actually, the important thing is that we think about how the words are being used by people now.” The funny thing is he wrote that about what we now think of as Classic Sanskrit. People have not moved on from thinking about Classical Sanskrit in that way, and it’s become a learning tool, but –

Gretchen: We should all just be speaking Classical Sanskrit.

Lauren: The motivation is exactly the same motivation we use in a descriptive grammar now. It’s not about setting out the rules of a language and how it has to work, it reflects how a linguist has analysed that people are using that system.

Gretchen: I think that’s one of the things that comes up when we talk about a grammar is, particularly because grammar in the Western tradition is associated with Latin, and, okay, you’re learning about the grammar of English only so that you can translation Latin into English better rather than learning about the grammar of English as an object of its own study. This translates into, “Okay, well, what if we made the grammar of English more like Latin because that would obviously be better.” That’s where this secondary meaning of “grammar” as, you know, “Thou shalt not split an infinitive,” does – because in Latin an infinitive is all just one word. You can’t split it. It’s just one word.

Lauren: You can’t split it.

Gretchen: This idea that grammar is a tool to beat people over the head with comes from this, “Well, you’ve got to learn this language in school because this is how you’re gonna access all these classical texts that you are supposed to access, and you need to do it a certain way because it’s dead now, and it’s not evolving, and so you’re just learning to do this very particular thing,” that’s where this additional connotation of grammar as a stick to beat people over the head with comes in.

Lauren: That’s that very Latin tradition that we still have.

Gretchen: And it’s not only English that had a grammar as a tool to stay in touch with a lost golden age. This is also what they were doing in ancient Chinese of like, here’s this older thing. One of the other interesting things that I learned about the Chinese grammatical tradition, in particular with the writing system – because the writing system in Chinese can obscure different pronunciations – you could have a poem that you could still read in the written sense that’s very old but, for a modern reader, it doesn’t necessarily rhyme. At a certain point, when they were doing more historical linguistics, they realised, “Oh, this poem actually rhymed back in the day.” The pronunciation has changed so much that we weren’t really thinking about it because the characters look the same, but it actually used to rhyme, which sometimes shows up when you’re reading Shakespeare or something, and it’s got “thrown” and “drown” or something. Like, “Wait, those probably were supposed to rhyme based on where they are in this poem.” You can use that to reconstruct what was going on.

Lauren: It can feel a bit anxiety-provoking about committing an analysis to paper because you are pinning a butterfly for a moment in time. People are still speaking the language, and it moves on. As long as you don’t think of the descriptive grammar as anything more canonical and authoritative than people’s actual intuitions, that’s an important thing to remember. Especially if you’re working with a grammar that’s more than a few generations old, it may be that the person didn’t quite capture what people were doing. It may be that the language has changed again.

Gretchen: Another thing that I found really interesting about “What are the ideas that people were thinking about at the time” – so this is from Grammar West to East again. The author points out that when Chinese characters first became known in Europe, it was late 16th Century and, in Europe, for unrelated reasons, the idea of a universal language was the hot philosophical topic. You had people like John Wilkins, who ultimately created Roget’s Thesaurus, but he was really just trying to make a universal taxonomy for understanding the world, he ended up making quite a nice thesaurus but not with making a universal way of understanding the world. What was actually going on in China at the time was that Classical Chinese was a scholarly and diplomatic lingua franca of the East Asian region. It was acquired as a learned language in the different parts of those regions. The Chinese words were given a local pronunciation. So, children in different parts of China would learn to read using a literary register of the local dialect, and there wasn’t the idea of a standard spoken language for the whole country. That’s a modern innovation. This is a situation that was a lot like Latin in Europe at the time. But Europe, you know, “Oh, you learn Latin in school so that you can do the literary thing.” But European scholars misunderstood the situation and thought that this meant that Chinese characters were interpretable by speakers of any language without them being based on one language, even though they were very much based on an ancestral language of the region.

Lauren: Oh dear. And their obsession with universality that they came to this very functional but still based on a language thing. Oh dear. I see exactly where this is going. That’s not good.

Gretchen: Also, they did the same thing with the Egyptian hieroglyphs, which had not yet been deciphered yet. They were like, “Guys, we found it! We found the universal language of ideas, and it’s not tied to a particular language!”

Lauren: Not translated adds an extra air of mystery.

Gretchen: European scholars thought this was great. Francis Bacon thought this was amazing. It’s interesting to see not just, okay, here’s this thing that was going on in China at the time, which is interesting, but also, here’s how these things get reflected and refracted, whether that’s the Europeans approaching Chinese grammar as maybe this is a thing that’s universal or this Chinese grammarian, Mr Ma, looking at it and saying, “Okay, how can I merge these two grammatical traditions of the full words versus the empty words?”, and then also “What if I have nouns and adjectives and stuff?”, and “How could I group them in ways that make sense for the grammar of the language?” Everyone’s bringing their own preconceived notions to this space.

Lauren: I think the descriptive grammar has really figured itself out as a genre in the 20th Century. A lot of the discussion around how to make sure people aren’t just bringing themselves to it has been to widen the scope of what gets included. One really big influence has been the idea that you need to have the grammar, but it has to be presented alongside the wordlists because the grammar just tells you the rules not which words go in which places and also a collection of texts that are broken down and translated so that people can access what’s happening in narratives. That solves a little bit of that what gets included problem.

Gretchen: Because somebody could always go back and look at the text again and say, “Well, what if I interpreted them differently or wrote this grammar differently based on what I can see here in this longer thing?”

Lauren: Yeah. “The author didn’t get around to a section on the use of particles in narratives, but there’s enough texts here I can see what’s happening.” This little trio of publications is sometimes known as the “Boasian trinity,” which sounds a little bit more pompous and religious than it actually is, but it’s part of this expanding what gets included.

Gretchen: This is after Boas, whose first name I have forgotten.

Lauren: Franz Boas.

Gretchen: Franz? Franz Boas. He was one of the early grammarians in this descriptive and comparative tradition where it’s not just, okay, every intellectual in this one country or this one society is devoting themselves to this one language but, “Oh, what if we looked at lots of languages? What if we compared them?” This goes along with the colonial project of like, “What if we went and conquered some people?”

Lauren: Yes, there’s a lot of scientific rationalism happening here.

Gretchen: This is not entirely unproblematic either. It is interesting how the forms of the grammars start shifting when it stops being this sort of seeking this one language of like, “Oh, everything descends from Greek” or “Everything descends from Sanskrit.” Even the Europeans, at a certain point, when they encountered Sanskrit, were like, “Oh, everything must descend from Sanskrit,” and said, “Okay, well, what if we realised that we can’t actually know what the first language was? This is lost in the midst of time,” and figured out “What can we know about relationships and what is the possibility space for what are different things that languages do?”

Lauren: I mean, I think it’s also worth pointing out a lot of 20th Century language description has happened to try and translate religious texts and political documents and that is a subset of problematic colonisation within the grammatical tradition.

Gretchen: The longest text that’s been written down in a lot of languages is the Bible, which has all sorts of really weird consequences when you start using those parallel texts as the input for something like machine translation because you can have machine translation systems start spitting out things that sound like religious prophecies because they’re just regurgitation versions of that Bible input, which is pretty weird.

Lauren: Such a weird consequence of a weird set of earlier decisions.

Gretchen: Exactly. Here was this earlier decision that maybe this was even a religious text that was created 100 years ago by some missionary, but it’s the longest text that’s available in this language, and the grammar is more or less accurate – and yet. It wasn’t trying to record the stories and the oral histories of the people who actually spoke that language that they cared about themselves, it was trying to introduce this foreign religion to them.

Lauren: Again, it’s one of those things that is hard to avoid and so it’s just important to be aware of when you’re looking at some grammars. They may have a lot of Christian religious texts. It doesn’t necessarily reflect the religion of the speakers so much as the religion of the person doing the documentation.

Gretchen: Going back to that theme of grammars that are made by people and sometimes people’s agendas for making a grammar is –

Lauren: A different endpoint.

Gretchen: It’s less about like, “Oh, I want to help this language be taught in schools and support its speakers in their own goals” and more “I wanna impose my goals on the speakers.”

Lauren: I think another important change that has happened across the 20th Century in terms of grammars is the increasing availability of recording equipment and, therefore, the ability to make recordings of the language as a fourth part of that three-part collection of what’s important when documenting a language.

Gretchen: There are some really interesting ancient recording technologies like the wax cylinders that were used –

Lauren: You say, “ancient,” but you mean, like, 150 years ago.

Gretchen: Yeah, not ancient compared to Paṇini.

Lauren: Not Paṇini ancient, just, it’s really that the story of the 20th Century descriptive tradition is the story of embracing these recording methods.

Gretchen: There was a really cool thing where they had these old, cracked wax cylinders, I think it was in the Smithsonian, and they couldn’t put them on a machine to read them because, obviously, the needle would stumble over the cracks. It’s kind of like a record.

Lauren: They just fall apart.

Gretchen: Picture it as a tall record with all the lines tall rather than a flat record. But it was cracked, so they couldn’t put it in the thing, and they eventually figured out a way with lasers to read the recordings. I got to hear, you know, here’s a song in this language that hasn’t been heard for 100 years because the cylinder cracked. If it’s online, I’ll try to find a link to it.

Lauren: With recording technology, early on, and even for some linguists, it’s mostly about doing recordings so you can go back and listen yourself and really identify that you’re correctly analysing structures. But I think the more exciting thing is that it lets you really observe more people using language in more natural ways. The “Can you say this?”, “Can you say that?”, “Does that sound grammatical?” way of eliciting stuff can lead to an unusual way of approaching the language, but really drawing on people singing songs and telling stories not only makes for a richer, more realistic grammatical description that allows you to see those fuzzier, more complicated bits of language, but it also means that you can make those recordings available for speakers who are interested in going back to an oral history of the language for people who might come in the future and go, “Ah, you didn’t look at the way people’s prosody goes up and down and their intonation changes in stories. I’m gonna look at that, and I have access to these recordings.” I think this is where grammars are more exciting as we integrate more of that richness of actual language and bringing the people who speak the language back into real prominence within the grammar document.

Gretchen: Yeah. Because there is a certain way of writing a grammar which is very old which just assumes that whatever bits you have about “Here’s how this language works,” that information just exists at this abstract level, and it’s not necessarily tied to particular speakers or particular communities, and saying, “Oh, it would be good to give credit to the speakers who were saying this, or to identify this is a particular way that a language is spoken in a particular region,” or “Here’s something that’s going on here.” There have been some initiatives to do things like pair people who are trying to revitalise their languages with linguists to try to understand what’s going on in some of these older grammars because they can be hard to decipher without the special training. The one that I’m familiar with is Breath of Life.

Lauren: There are the Paper and Talk Workshops in Australia as well where you’re coming full circle and making sure that you give people the tools that they need to access the materials about their own language because you can make grammars for many reasons, and we’ve discussed some of them but, at the end of the day, the most important reason to me is that speakers of a language can access the materials that were created for that language.

Gretchen: I think when we look at the multi-thousand-year-old history of making grammars and the very different sorts of questions that people had about language thousands of years ago, I find it very humbling because we can think about what are the questions that people might be asking in another thousand years, and how can we make things that would help with that?

[Music]

Lauren: For more Lingthusiasm and links to all the things mentioned in this episode, go to lingthusiasm.com. You can listen to us on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, Spotify, SoundCloud, YouTube, or wherever else you get your podcasts. You can follow @Lingthusiasm on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr. You can get IPA scarves, schwa pins, and other Lingthusiasm merch at lingthusiasm.com/merch. I tweet and blog as Superlinguo.

Gretchen: I can be found at @GretchenAMcC on Twitter, my blog is AllThingsLinguistic.com, and my book about internet language is called Because Internet. Have you listened to all the Lingthusiasm episodes and you wish there were more? You can get access to 49 bonus episodes to listen to right now at patreon.com/lingthusiasm or follow the links from our website. Patrons also get access to our Discord chatroom to talk with other linguistics fans and other rewards, as well as helping keep the show ad-free. Recent bonus topics include reduplication, Q&A with a lexicographer, and a Q&A with the two of us in honour of our 100th episode. Can’t afford to pledge? That’s okay, too. We also really appreciate it if you can recommend Lingthusiasm to anyone who needs a little more linguistics in their life.

Lauren: Our Senior Producer is Claire Gawne, our Editorial Producer is Sarah Dopierala, and our music is “Ancient City” by The Triangles.

Gretchen: Stay lingthusiastic!

[Music]

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

#language #linguistics #lingthusiasm #transcripts #episode 54 #podcasts #grammar

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vanillann · 4 years

Text

‘tis the damn season (reggie peters x f.reader)

yes i’m 16 and obsessed with a children’s show, what about it?

inspires by “‘tis the damn season” by taylor swift

also i have no clue if i’m going to start writing for jatp or not so...

waring: bad angst and the word damn

word count: 1.6k

“‘tis the season,” Reggie fell back on the couch with the bright red cheeks and little giggles.

Luke looked to Alex, begging with his eyes to smack him but Alex shook his head. The three were waiting for Bobby to grab the sandwiches from the deli and they’d be working on another song, but Reggie had other plans.

“She’ll be here in two days,” Reggie felt the need to give a visible representation, putting up two fingers for all to see.

“Yeah we know, you’ve been reminding us since September,” Luke bite back, looking at Reggie with dangerous eyes.

“Oh Luke, you’re just not in the headspace to understand,” Reggie brushed off, starting at the ceiling above him, laughing to himself as he imagined her face.

“I can’t do this again,” Luke whispered to Alex, looking over. Alex shrugged, the drumstick banging against his leg with a nice little beat that Luke would have to ask him about later.

“It makes Reg happy,” Alex shrugged, looking to the boy in question quickly. He had a dopey look on his face, a little hum of a song on the tip of his tongue.

“Until she leaves to go back home,” Luke mumbled, worried for his friend.

Luke liked (Y/N), I mean he truly believed Reggie and her were soulmates, but every year she came for the holiday and she left a week later.

While Reggie used that week to his advantage, treating others as if they’ve been together for years, they were just two friends as she got back in her car to ride back to the Midwest.

Then Reggie was a heartbroken wreck, mumbling sad songs at practice and missing chords. It happened every time, every year, and Luke didn’t want to watch him wreck himself again.

Alex and Luke both slowly stood up, leaving the boy to look dreamily into the sky. They wander to the other side of the garage, looking over their shoulder every so often.

“Look I get it, she’s great but it’s this holiday fling that Reggie can’t handle.”

Alex understood Luke’s outburst, everyone was thinking it but it wasn’t going to end well if they tried to talk Reggie out of his infatuation. She was perfect for him and it was enough for Reggie to see her once a year.

“I’m back,” Bobby slid in through the garage door, holding bags of sandwiches in his hand as he dropped them to the table.

“Careful with mine,” Luke yelped out, running over to the table and forgot the topic of Reggie's little hometown girl as a whole.

Reggie bounced up and down, sitting on the bench by her parent’s house, the cold wind that blew across Reggie's face was odd for California but Reggie didn’t care about that now.

She was coming home for the holidays, that’s all that mattered.

He spotted the red car pulled around the corner of the small street, the one Reggie skated minutes ago with a joyous laugh.

As the car passed by, he spotted her little wave through the window. Her smile was as bright as the sun against a coastline.

Reggie would have to remember that line, Luke would like it.

Once the car was completely parked, the large door swung open. The sound of high heel boots slammed against the pavement with little giggles in-between.

“Reggie!”

“(Y/N)!”

Reggie stood from the bench, laughing as the girl launched herself into Reggie’s leather jacket-clad arms as if it was home. The familiar scent of one another was comforting and perfect, to say the least.

“I’ve missed you,” Reggie whispered into the nape of the poor girl's neck, the goofiest smile sketch across his face as if he was that thing Alex talked about.

Some painted ceiling?

In Rome or something?

“Not as much as I missed you.”

Those words made Reggie forget the question he had, just happy to hear her.

“That’s so not possible.”

“When did you learn to ice skate?”

(Y/N) shrugged, her skates leaving little marks in the giant ice. Reggie was thankful when Bobby found this place the other week, the boy enjoyed the people watching and the holiday vibes they got for it.

“I’m just a natural,” Reggie appreciated the way she smiled with her tongue between her teeth, a little goofy shrug as she moved closer to Reggie.

“I’ll teach you,” her hand slipped into his with ease, as if they were made to fit. If you asked Reggie, he’d respond with a “well duh” and continue talking about the girl in front of him.

She pulled him off the rail, smiling as she watched his ankle wobble as soon as she did.

“I got you jeez,” she laughed, reaching over to grab Reggie’s other hand for extra support.

He didn’t even think to look at his skate, too caught up in the girl in front of him. Reggie was watching the way she watched both their skate carefully, worried to let him collapse if she didn’t.

Reggie knew he would write all of Sunset Curves' love songs about her.

Who wouldn’t write love songs about someone who smiled like that?

“You’re staring,” (Y/N) smirks, looking back at their skates as soon as she spoke.

“Well duh.”

“How is fashion going?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, obviously not happy with how the dream of hers is going.

“I hate it, it doesn’t feel like what I thought it was,” she let her feet rest in Reggie's lap, laying back on the couch as they both waited for the rest of the band.

Reggie was excited to show her how much better he’s gotten at bass, but now he was worried. He never once felt like that about his dream.

“Are you sure you wanna do fashion?”

“Not anymore,” she spoke gently, pulling at the sweater sleeve with a sad little smile.

“I might just give up.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Reggie spoke, waiting for the words he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

If she quit fashion she’d come home.

“I don’t know, I just need to figure it out.”

She didn’t say anything, just looking at her shoes that sat in Reggie’s lap.

“You could always take a break, stay here for a while.”

Reggie didn’t want to hold her back, no he would never, but she didn’t seem happy and he couldn’t help think maybe she’d be happy here with him.

“You know I can’t Reg, my parents can’t afford another mouth to feed,” she reached out to brush a piece of the hair that had fallen in his eyes.

“I know,” he wanted to tell her to move in with him, but she didn’t deserve to hear the fighting and he could sell Bobby's garage to her.

“Maybe one day,” she spoke gently, the sound of the doors whipping open didn’t make Reggie feel any better.

“(Y/N)!” Alex pranced to the girl, a goofy smile as he wrapped his long arms around her.

“Alex,” she smiled gently, doing her best to brush the conversation to the side.

She would have stayed, she felt home here with Reggie and his band. Her friends in the city were cold and rude, ready to backstab you when their time was coming. Reggie would be good for her, a new setting and one she needed.

But she couldn’t have it.

So he’d have to stick with calling her babe for a weekend.

“Last one,” Reggie stuffed the last bag in the trunk of the car, watching it closely as he thought of what was about to happen.

“Thank you for helping.”

(Y/N) had just finished saying goodbye to her family, slowly walking out to find Reggie had backed every bag that sat outside the car.

“With all your bags you’d think you’d stay longer,” Reggie spoke absentmindedly, looking at the sticker covering it. He smiled when he saw his band logo drawn on the side.

“Time flies when you’re having fun, right?”

Reggie nodded, the emotions already hitting him as he waited. He was going to regret this, but he couldn’t keep doing this.

“Don’t leave,” his voice cracked, which made (Y/N) more nervous to answer.

“I have to Reg-”

“But you hate it there,” Reggie turned to look at her, his boyish charm gone as fast as it would have normally come.

“I can’t stay Reg, this town isn’t for me anymore.”

She knew he meant well, she didn’t want to leave him anymore but her life wasn’t made for this city.

“But I’m in this town,” she could just barely make out his words with how many emotions were in them.

She slowly walked closer, wrapping her arms around his center. He let his hands rub circles on her back, wondering where to go from here.

“We’re going to have to stop, aren’t we?”

Reggie only nodded, knowing neither of them could do this “friends that weren’t friend” thing anymore, not when it only lasted a week a year.

“I’m sorry Reg, I don’t wanna leave-”

“I understand,” Reggie gave his last light-hearted smile, moving from behind the car, opening the driver side door for her.

She said nothing, nodding as slowly sitting in her seat for the next few hours of her drive.

“’tis the season, right?”

Reggie nodded, trying his best not to be broken the last time she saw him.

“’tis the season,” he muttered under his breath, nodding as she started the car when he closed the door. She backed out the driveway with ease, her eyes trained on the road.

“’tis the damn season,” Reggie spoke under his breath.

He knew at that moment, he’d write all of Sunset Curves heartbreak songs about her.

#jatp netflix #japt reggie #reggie peters #reggie peters x reader #luke patterson #julie molina #alex mercer #jatp x reader #julie and the phantoms #reggie x reader

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beewolfwrites · 4 years

Text

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Twenty-Four: And the Rest is Silence

And this is it: the final chapter! It’s been insane, but this is the only fanfiction I've ever finished before, and it wouldn’t have happened without all the support. Thank you so much!! I didn’t think anyone would read this, but seeing everyone’s reactions to each chapter has kept me going :D

I’m sorry for the essay, but I’m aware I didn’t post anything about this in the AIB tag. Yes, there will be a sequel!

I need to read the manga properly before writing it, so I don’t know when the sequel will start. But in the meantime, there’ll be a series of Chishiya one-shots of his perspective, and there’ll even be scenes that weren’t in this fic, plus an original game!

For the full fanfic, you can find it here on AO3.

I’ll also be creating a master list, and I'll post the literature references after this for those who wanted them <3

Once again, thank you so much!! And I hope you enjoy this last chapter.

------------------------------------------------

By the time Kuina found us again, it was already late afternoon, and even though our visas had extended by ten days after the Witch Hunt game, there was something about the setting of the sun that felt foreboding.

We lit up the furniture shop with candles and changed into the clean clothes we’d collected. Seeing Chishiya wearing ordinary clothes felt strange. Aside from when we’d crossed paths in the Tag game, the entire time I’d known him he’d been wearing swim shorts and flip flops.

Now, he emerged from the bathroom wearing grey sweatpants and a variegated blue cardigan that suited him perfectly. When his eyes flickered to mine, I realised I’d been staring, and distracted myself with preparing dinner instead. It wasn’t much, especially since all I had was canned goods and a camping stove, but the vegetable stew kept us warm while we curled up in our makeshift living room. As evening turned to night, however, it became obvious that something was missing.

There are no games.

Kuina chewed on her lip, looking out of the window. ‘What d’you think will happen when our visas run out?’

‘It probably has something to do with the Ten of Hearts,’ I told her. ‘Maybe there’s no need for games anymore, since we’ve got all the numbered cards.’

It didn’t bode well for us. If there were no games by the time our visas ran out, there was no chance of us getting out of the Borderlands. At least not alive.

As the night wore on, Kuina was the first to go upstairs. Covering her yawn with her hand, she waved goodnight and winked at me. I tried not to blush. Not that it made a difference, anyway. Chishiya was busying himself over a scrap of paper, and barely reacted when I smushed up by his side.

I frowned at the paper in his hand. ‘Isn’t that...’

‘Ah.’ He held it out so I could see it. ‘I took it from the tagger’s pocket.’ It was a drawing of a circle with squiggly lines, clearly a rushed sketch of something. In the middle of a line, the pen had stabbed a hole straight through.

‘What is it?’

‘Well, I have an idea,’ he said, but never elaborated.

Fighting the onset of sleep, I leaned my head against his shoulder, paying no mind to the way he tensed beneath me. The fabric of his cardigan was soft as down and made for a perfect pillow. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me?’

‘And if I don’t want to?’

I pushed my face into the fabric, pretending to settle in for the night. ‘Then I’ll just stay here and annoy you until your visa runs out.’

‘I have a feeling that won’t happen any time soon,’ he said, looking out the window.

And that was when I noticed it too. Midnight had passed by only a few minutes ago, yet there were no lasers. Did that mean the Borderlands were at a standstill? Were we stuck here permanently now? I wasn’t aware of how silent I had become, lost in my own thoughts, until Chishiya spoke up.

‘I believe it’s a map.’

My eyes slid to the drawing again. ‘And that hole in the paper, do you think that’s where the others are? The dealers, I mean.’

He shifted uncomfortably and I sat upright, conscious that I might have been unintentionally hurting or bothering him. Looking at the map properly, the lines could represent different interlocking pathways. If the marked place was a hideout of some kind, it couldn’t be in the open streets; there was too big a risk that a player might stumble upon it by accident.

So where...?

As soon as the idea came to mind, the words slipped out of my mouth. ‘The subway....’

He hummed in agreement. ‘I went to the nearest subway station this morning to check it against the real map. It’s a loose fit, but it works.’

I thought back to the second tagger – the crying woman – and how she’d been forced to participate in the game, donning an explosive collar. ‘Maybe if we find the place, we’ll get some answers.’

‘Probably,’ he said. ‘But I’m curious to see if anything changes within the next few days.’

‘Do you think we’ll hear something soon?’ I asked, yawning into my hand.

‘I believe we will.’ He gave me that same half-smile I had grown so used to. ‘But right now, I think you should go to sleep.’

Chishiya didn’t complain when I crawled into his bed. Like the night before, he kept his distance, but I could’ve sworn at times, when my sleeping became lighter throughout the night, I could feel fingers lightly touching my hair, only to pull back the moment I stirred. Over the next few days, it became the norm, and every night I would curl up on my side of the bed, slipping into calm dreams under the blue light of the window.

---------------------------------------------------

Despite the sunshine washing over the grey of the city, the stairs leading into Minami-Aoyama station descended into darkness. We’d checked and double-checked the drawing against the official subway map several times, but the idea of entering an abandoned station to uncover who knows what wasn’t inviting.

‘Are you sure this is it?’ Kuina asked for the third time.

I looked at the route map hanging over the station entrance, my eyes tracing the shape of the lines. ‘Positive.’

Folding her arms, Kuina went first. I waited for Chishiya to take a small torch from his pocket before following behind. The station was truly submerged in blackness, and if not for Chishiya’s torch, we would have easily become lost. He shone the beam at the paper in his hand, then held it up against each train line.

‘This way,’ he said, and walked towards the edge of the platform.

We hopped down onto the gravel below, using the metal tracks to guide us further into the tunnels. It was disconcerting to see the subway so empty, but with Kuina and Chishiya here, I felt safe somehow.

Several minutes in, Chishiya stopped abruptly, and I almost walked into him. If he reacted at all, I couldn’t see to tell. But he seemed more focused on something else, as he pointed the torch at a door that had been busted open.

‘That must be it.’ Kuina’s voice echoed.

Without hesitation, Chishiya disappeared through the door, leaving Kuina and I in the darkness.

Chishiya?!

I panicked, arms waving as I tried to find something to hold onto. I heard Kuina hiss as we stumbled into each other and bumped elbows. Feeling around for the door frame, we managed to make our way inside, where Chishiya held his torch at us from further away.

‘Hey!’ Kuina snapped. ‘Don’t do that again! You’re the only one with a light here.’

‘Walk faster then,’ he said, waiting impatiently as we jogged over.

He shone the beam in the opposite direction, where it bounced off something. It was still too dark to tell just what, but as we walked forwards, everything became clearer. A structure lay ahead, with tunnels and walkways all leading into a giant room. Overhead, wires were strung across the ceiling, all feeding into the same place. We entered through one of the tunnels, and my heart jumped.

Televisions. They stared, black and empty, in rows and columns up the walls. But what was even more surprising was the setup right in front of us. It was an office, with papers, pen pots and coffee-stained mugs strewn about on desks. It would have looked like any other workplace, if not for the bodies draped in chairs and across the floor.

‘What... is this?’ I crouched to inspect the body of a man in a suit. Judging from its state, he had only died recently, but more importantly, there was a singed hole running through his head. He had been killed by a laser. ‘They’re not the ones in charge of the games.’

Chishiya closely inspected a desk. ‘Evidently not,’ he said, picking up a folded piece of paper and passing it to me. It was filled with numbers, some ticked off. Whoever it had belonged to was keeping track of their visa.

They’re playing games too, I thought. Or at least, they were.

‘So, these guys were the dealers.’ Kuina gingerly held up a sheet of paper with scribbles all over it. Upon closer inspection, they appeared to be odds. ‘They were betting on us,’ she said.

A shiver ran along my skin. Of course, they had been watching us this whole time, that was expected. But to place bets on our survival was a whole other story. If the dealers were playing too, there must’ve been a separate system for them to extend their days. Perhaps how many people survived each game had some kind of impact on their visas.

A finger lightly brushed the back of my arm and Chishiya appeared beside me. ‘Momoka’s friend,’ I said, ‘she died right after she told everyone she was a dealer. And the taggers died because we won. I have a feeling their visas depended on whether or not we cleared each game... or maybe how many people didn’t make it.’

From his expression, I knew he had been thinking the same thing. ‘It doesn’t explain why they’re all dead now.’

I glanced around at the stiffened bodies slumped around us. ‘Actually, I have a bad feeling about that too.’

At that moment, a tap of footsteps echoed from the entrance. Chishiya instantly turned off his torch and tugged me into one of the tunnels. Kuina joined us and we hid, waiting. The footsteps grew louder, closer, and two torchlights waved through the darkness. I kept my eyes trained on the tunnel opposite as the footsteps paused.

‘Where is this place?’

‘Who knows?’

With a sigh, I relaxed instantly.

Those two.

It had only been a few days since I had made peace with Arisu and Usagi, but I was glad to see them again. Arisu was cleaned up, his wounds well on the way to healing, while Usagi stared in amazement at the television screens around us.

Chishiya grazed past me as he moved out from under the shadows. ‘You actually found this place,’ he said. ‘As expected from someone I have high hopes for.’

‘We meet again,’ Kuina said, walking around the desks to lean against the wall.

Arisu and Usagi’s eyes scanned the two of them before stopping at me. They looked visibly confused, probably wondering what I was doing with them after I’d told them I wasn’t involved in Chishiya’s setup. In an attempt at diffusing the awkwardness, I smiled and waved.

‘You guys,’ Usagi whispered. Her voice bordered on distrust, not that anyone could blame her.

I couldn’t tell whether Chishiya was trying to make things better or worse when he held up the full deck of cards and smiled. ‘Thanks to you guys, I have all the playing cards with me,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

Arisu only looked at him cynically. ‘How did you discover this place?’

Chishiya rooted in his pocket and pulled out the drawing. ‘It took me some time to realise this is actually a map. The route map of the subway.’ He sauntered around the desks. ‘As for what happens when we collect the cards... I thought I would know the answer if I came here.’ His eyes jumped to mine. ‘But there’s something else we discovered instead.’

‘They’re not the gamemasters,’ Arisu said, eyes fixed on the bodies around us.

I stepped over a hand strewn across the floor. ‘カードを集めたので、殺された.’ Because we collected the cards, they were all killed. I struggled for a moment, trying to think of the right words. ‘There must be someone above them.’

Chishiya translated, and Usagi turned to me with worry. ‘But who?’

‘Who knows?’ Chishiya shrugged. ‘They might be aliens... or even God.’

The idea didn’t sound as strange as it should have done. We were in a world where lasers appeared from the sky, and death games were the norm. Even when I first arrived here, I’d wondered whether this was a form of judgement. Nothing was out of the question anymore.

Suddenly, the screens burst into life and white light flooded the room. I jumped, flocking to Chishiya and Kuina’s side.

Have we been caught?

Music reverberated all around us, and the screens displayed all four card suits, along with a message I couldn’t read. It didn’t matter though, as the voice that rang through the speakers was one I remembered well. My stomach dropped.

‘Congratulations to all players!’

The screens blurred until Mira’s wild eyes and subdued smile came into focus. It was now obvious why the Ten of Hearts had taken place at the Beach at the very moment things had fallen apart.

She must’ve been feeding information back, I thought. But back to where?

‘How interesting,’ Chishiya said. Seeking stability, I slipped a hand into his pocket. There was a slight hesitation before his fingers laced around mine.

Mira’s voice shook with a quiet excitement. ‘With the exception of the face cards, you’ve all cleared the numbered games and emerged as victors. It’s a sweet victory, gained by sacrificing so many lives.’ Her expression turned wistful as she stood. ‘I wonder, how many of your comrades have died. Try remembering those who were shot dead with guns.’

A single screen switched to show footage from a miscellaneous game. A group were stood, clutching their guns as they inspected the scatter of bodies across the ground.

They’ve been recording us.

‘And that girl you burned alive.’

A second display opened up, revealing several players watching on as a girl, engulfed in flames, struggled and clawed at her skin and clothes. I held my breath, Niragi’s animalistic cries ringing through my memory.

‘Those struck by lasers, and those that drowned.’

My eyes widened, and I gripped Chishiya’s hand as the inside of the furniture store appeared on-screen. The fractured image of myself flinched, quivering with shock, as the first man and Green Shirt leapt from their seats, only to crumple to the ground, lasers piercing them where they stood.

Chishiya’s fingers squeezed mine, and I gasped, blinking away the image. He must’ve seen it too.

‘Those who’s heads were blown off,’ Mira continued, dreamily. ‘Those comrades of yours, the despair you’ve felt so far, and those dying moments you’ll never forget.’

The screen changed once more, and from the corner of my eye, Arisu winced. Following his gaze, I recognized his partner from the Tag game, his neck exploding around a collar.

I’m so sorry....

Meanwhile, Mira’s expression shifted into pure, childlike delight. ‘Everyone... I’m so touched!’ She held her hand over her heart. ‘All of you players, we’d like to give you a present.’

We?

Chishiya tensed slightly. He had noticed it too. If Mira wasn’t the only gamemaster, just who were the others?

Although Mira couldn’t hear us, Kuina mumbled, ‘Are you returning us to the real world?’

It seemed too good to be true, and sure enough, it was. Mira clapped her hands together excitedly. ‘There will be new games! Let’s play more games together and fight for the face cards this time!’

Aside from Chishiya, everyone sank with disappointment and fear. Just how much more would we have to deal with before we could go home? If we were competing for the face cards, did that mean there were only twelve more games in total, or would there be repeat cards like there were for the numbered ones?

Kuina groaned. ‘New games? You’re kidding.’

‘I don’t dislike the idea,’ Chishiya murmured.

I looked at him, curious. ‘What do you mean?’

His expression was guarded, but before he could reply, Mira’s voice cut in again. ‘The next stage will commence tomorrow at noon. Everyone, let’s have fun together!’

All at once, the screens shut down, leaving us all in the darkness once more. Everything was quiet as we came to terms with what had just happened. It was Arisu who first suggested that we get out of here. Him and Usagi disappeared back through the tunnel, and with one glance at Chishiya and I, Kuina followed.

My fingers were still interlaced with his, hidden within the warmth of his pocket. He was watching me, waiting.

‘These games,’ I said. ‘They’re going to be harder than the others.’

He was silent for a moment. ‘Probably.’

‘About what you said before...’ I began. ‘Do you remember that time on the rooftop of the Beach, when I asked you if you were okay, and you told me it shouldn’t matter to me.’

I could see him thinking back. ‘I remember.’

‘What I said then still stands. You might not care about your own life, and I can’t stop you from taking part in these new games.’ I bit my lip, unable to face him as my eyes began tearing up. ‘Perhaps this is selfish of me, but you need to survive. And if you can’t do it for yourself, then....’

He sighed. ‘You cry too much.’ When I looked up, his lips were curled into that same, familiar smile, only this time, there was nothing cruel or condescending there. ‘We should find the others.’

Wiping my eyes with the edge of my sleeve, I finally let go of his hand, following him back out and through the tunnels. As we climbed the steps of the station, emerging into daylight, a series of loud bangs resounded throughout the city. The others were peering up at the skyscrapers towering over us, and the fireworks that burst like flowers against the sunlight.

‘Let’s make a new deal,’ Chishiya said, idly watching the display. ‘I’ll survive, if you return the favour.’

I looked to him, admiring the way his hair shifted in the breeze, and how the reflection of the fireworks danced in his dark eyes.

Let’s go home together.

‘It’s a deal.’

#alice in borderland #aib #imawa no kuni no arisu #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

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and-there-were-words · 3 years

Text

A Spider Life: Slow days (Chapter 05)

I first wanted to write something out of the Spider Queen’s POV, but struggled to keep it within the narrative I am going for at the moment. I will write something for her after what’s show-canon though. A slow one with some more HCs, but I hope you still enjoy this chapter!

Also “Ask questions” had been enabled, I did not notice they weren’t before /o/

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Taking place some time before “Minor scale”.

After the last two, rather smooth successes of gathering the artifacts, things had turned… slow. With everyone doing their best to busy themselves, Syntax makes some (for him at least) interesting observations. (Wordcount: around 2150)

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With the mirror in their possession, the little lady had grown silent while working on the furnace. Aside from that whisper business of course, that had been a constant the last few days. And while nobody wanted to admit it out loud, it put everyone on the edge. Even the Queen.

However, nothing would stop Syntax from working on his spiderbots, even trying to improve the additional arms on his back. Not the easiest thing to do when you don’t have eyes on the back of your head, but making sure they just won’t snap in the heat of a moment felt rather crucial. The additional weight to this upgrade wasn’t exactly a worry to him at all, in the end he wasn’t one of the brawler types.

Something in the air changed, making him halt for a second.

“Yes Huntsman, how can I help you?”, he spoke without needing to look up. The other spider made a frustrated noise at being detected, he had been just mere inches away to give the scientist a poke. With an annoyed huff he turned around to stomp back to Goliath. Syntax would be lying to say if the other's frustration didn't plug on a string of satisfaction. This sort of interactions had been going on for a while now.

Leaning back, just to give his spine a proper stretch, the scientist couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself. Just the progress he had made the last few days was satisfying, and not only the ones on his machines – but himself too. Huntsman had taken a sadistic joy in startling him whenever he could, and he was infuriatingly good at it. Though, Syntax started to pick up on the faint noises the hunter made when stepping on stone, the shuffling of clothes. Eventually he could catch him prior to a scare.

Which only goaded Huntsman to try even harder, becoming more and more silent and careful in his steps. Syntax had taken recordings to measure the changes of skill level (and for his own sanity) – by now, the hunting spider was so silent that even his gadgets could barely pick up the sounds anymore. Certainly a skill Huntsman had all along, but finally seemed to shake off the initial rust after his involuntary slumber. With the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to catch him on that anymore, the scientist tried to focus on other giveaways.

What had started as an obvious attempt on grilling his nerves, developed into a near playful banter. Just the wordless back and forth to get the other to try harder. In an odd way, it almost felt like Huntsman was training him, but he was careful to keep that thought to himself. Syntax knew better than to read too much into the hunter's actions, as chaotic as they were.

Nonetheless, the scientist found himself trying to imitate the hunter now and then. Since the guy was going on about smelling all kind of stuff, he gave it a try himself. At first not picking up much more than the damp air in the cave, the metal of the machines. It took him a while to find stronger differences, trying to casually walk past Goliath and the Queen. He found it rather surprising that they didn't seem to do much to hide their presence, but maybe it was simply the comfort of the cave that allowed them to do so.

Picking up on Huntsman was an entirely different beast. The man always seemingly on guard, always ready to appear and disappear. However with time, the scientist managed to actually pick up on Huntsman’s scent, as faint as it was. Kind of earthy, a little bit mildewed, and Syntax could swear there was the ever lingering hint of fresh blood. Did this guy ever wash that pelt of his?

Of course, he would never claim that his own sense of scent was as powerful as the hunter’s, but it was enough to know who was currently around the cave. The little lady didn't seem to have any telltales like these, which usually would've raised red flags in his mind but… he didn't question it, nobody else did either. Anything else he came in contact with, the scents of the surface… became a mixed blend of too much too quickly. Maybe a task for another time.

Aside from that, scent and hearing weren’t the only senses he had noticed an improvement in! Their lair seemed to have become much less dark, he wasn’t as dependable on his goggles as he used to be anymore. What before had looked like chunky and random bits of webbing, now unveiled themselves as carefully crafted pieces with intriguing patterns, with uses he was still starting to understand. Goliath did his best to explain them in more 'common' terms, and it was always a pleasant surprise to see how excited the large spider became to share his knowledge. The more time Syntax spent within the Silk Web Cave, the more beautiful this place became to him. A pride welling up that he lived here.

However their hideout wasn’t the only thing that was much more layered than he previously thought. Turning around in his seat, he watched the other two henchmen going about their day. Currently sticking their heads together over something he couldn't see from his position. Still, he watched them a little, while he was sorting further observations in his mind.

...to no one’s surprise, when he wasn’t within the lair, Huntsman was hunting. Or at least, somewhere outside doing who knows what for days on end. Yet always coming back with some good pieces of meat, roots and berries (but mainly meat). The first time Syntax saw the hunter preparing food for dinner, he nearly refused to partake in it. Mostly because he couldn’t imagine his meals to taste anything but bland, or worse, be poisoned. Color him surprised, that stew was better than most dishes the Queen would concoct on a daily basis. Another thought Syntax would take to his grave before speaking it out loud.

When Huntsman wasn’t around for dinner, and everyone else felt too lazy to scavenge for some proper food options, Goliath and he would order takeout. The strong spider clearly intrigued by this concept, always wanting to try something new. Syntax often questioned the sanity of the cityfolk, considering that the delivery people didn’t had much care to come down near a spider den. The food from the surface world had something comforting to the scientist, as cheap and artifical as it sometimes was. Though he was really craving noodle soup as of late and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Syntax let out a little sigh while standing up.

This whole food thing had also shown an interesting side on Goliath. While the Queen and Huntsman didn’t seem to particularly care about human food (the latter even openly showing his distaste for it), the strong spider had taken a deep fascination. Especially sweets and candies seemed to have struck his attention the most. More than once did Syntax catch him just trying some new trendy food or colorful jawbreaker that he got from… who knows where. Goliath didn’t make any of this a secret, however he clearly wasn’t one with a rotten sweet-tooth as he barely finished anything. “For science.”, he once said with a wink and didn’t elaborate any further. Okay then.

“What are you two doing?”, Syntax casually asked as he wandered closer to the two. The strong spider looked up in confusion for a second before giving the younger man a smirk, “Secrets”. The scientist blinked owlishly, circling around them to look over the smaller spider’s shoulder. There were parchments of leather, deer if Syntax would have to guess, with Huntsman trying to draw squares and circles. Large black smudges here and there told the story of many previous attempts, letting the edges of the material look almost black by now.

"Get away from me.", the kneeling spider hissed, Syntax complying with an annoyed eye roll. Looking back at the larger man in an unspoken question. "We want to make a new robe for the Queen.", the giant almost beamed with excitement. Only for the big smile to water down in mild disappointment, "Buddy ain't good at designing though."

"If you wouldn't be just so damn picky!", Huntsman shot back, smudging away his latest attempt. "Just let me do what I do best, I know what I am d-"

"No!", Syntax flinched a little in surprise. It wasn't exactly an usual thing for Goliath to argue, or to even interrupt someone. "I want this to be special and you just can't get the patterns right! For the Queen's sake, just follow a plan for once!"

The scientist had to raise a brow. This was the first time he ever saw the two of them actually butting heads and… he had to admit, it was a little bit refreshing. Letting his eyes wander to some other pieces of leather, recognizing the sketches as copies from the patterns all over the cave. This one was a sigil of warding, as he had learned the other day, and a few were the Queen's own emblem. In case some other spider demon decided to come here, they would immediately know who's domain they dared to enter. The rest of those, he had not gotten an explanation yet.

"If I may.", mechanical arms shoved Huntsman unceremoniously to the side. Crouching down to pick up one of the charcoal, he started to draw. He was no expert on how to draw people by any means, but it certainly resembled the queen more than any of Huntsman's attempts. With careful strokes, he designed a fairly simple cut, working in the patterns on how he would think would look good on the Queen. It didn't pass him that the other two were watching with bated breath.

Once done, the scientist sat back on his heels, giving his creation a proper look. Not too shabby, if he may say so himself.

"Oh this is really good, Syntax!", Goliath cheered, looking like he wanted to touch the sketch but didn't dare to. On the other end of the emotional spectrum, Huntsman almost looked like he was about to explode.

"The fuck is your problem.", the elder hissed in dreadful silence, whole body tense and twitching. "What do you think you are!", he now became louder but Syntax did his best to just give him a neutral expression and not to budge. Which may not have been the best idea, as it only agitated the other further. The hunter was now standing, looming over him. "You really think you can just come in here and do whatever?! Think you can just be part of this??"

Large and sharp spider legs lashed out, in reflex Syntax let out a startled cry and raised his arms in an attempt of protection. But the pain didn't come. They hadn't aimed at him, instead… having shred the parchment with the sketches to bits. "I REFUSE TO WEAVE THIS."

Like an angry lion, the hunter had bared his fangs in a snarl. For a moment, Syntax was still prepared to be hit by the other, but the hunter suddenly turned around and just. Left. Goliath looked torn between the two men, mouthing a silent "Sorry" before hurrying after his friend.

A breath he didn't know he was holding, escaped his lungs. Syntax crumbled a bit to the floor, bitter thoughts flooding in. Just when he thought things were doing okay. Of course he had to step right into a sensitive nerve for the older spider. Heavy clicking pulled him out of his thoughts, but he couldn't care at the moment to look presentable before the Queen.

Spider Queen looked between the tired scientist and shredded pieces of leather, no apparent expression showing. But of course there was a glint of recognition in her eyes. "Why y'all causing such a ruckus?" Syntax sighed silently, giving a brief summary of the recent events.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable, the scientist not entirely sure how his Queen would react. To his surprise, she let out a little tired sigh. "Weaving is something quite personal to us. Especially if we do it for someone else.", she explained without really looking back at him. Instead giving the destroyed sketches another glance. "Just pretend this never happened. He'll get over it." With that, she simply left.

Syntax pulled his lips into a frown. Just ignore this all? If Huntsman got over it or not, it did not matter. His fists clenched a little, looking at the floor, choking and holding back bitter tears he could feel burning in hte back of his eyes. Syntax was more upset that he apparently wasn't allowed to be an actual part of this clan, no matter how hard he tried.

#spider queen just ignoring problems?#more likely than you think #lego monkie kid #lmk syntax #lmk huntsman #lmk goliath #lmk spider queen

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