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vamptarot · 15 days

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Why God Loves You | PAC

pile one pile two pile three

how to choose a pile . . . choose whichever you feel drawn to or ask your guides to guide your eyes to the one that is meant for you! ᡣ𐭩

— ⭑.ᐟ before we start I would like to say that this pick a card was made for those who were made to believe that God doesn’t love them, or that their existence is a sin. so if anyone wishes to complain about ‘oh but what if I have different beliefs’ then please simply consider that this pick a card is not for you. I am making it for those who were unjustly hurt. not proof read.

pile one : - coffee stain !

𐙚 : judgment reversed, ace of wands reversed, hermit reversed, two of swords, the devil

bottom of the deck: ace of cups

♡ ⢷why He loves you

You are genuinely not a judgemental person, at all. Even if someone is judged by the masses you are someone that does the ‘investigation’ of the situation yourself and then decide if the person actually deserves to be hated or not.

Even when it comes to unconventional things that other people would judge for, you simply do not. You always do your best to understand where the other person is coming from, and most importantly what are they going through. Especially emotionally, you try to see it from their perspective and not from someone that’s an outsider perspective in that situation, whatever it might be. That only comes second, third and so on. You are just someone very nurturing and smart, a person who walks their own way of clarity rather than blindly following the masses.

You are someone that is hard to influence, but rather than this making you unfriendly, it has the opposite effect on you. This quality of yours makes you very friendly and makes people have trust in you.

You are mature and can meet good people because you don’t let judgement fall in the way of you making good connections. Rather, you aim to understand everyone as much as possible.

You are also someone that is very responsible. When you make mistakes rather than running away from them and denying what had happened in the past you stand on your feet and strive to make it right. To create a better future.

This is something that is very honourable about you, something that is admirable.

♡ ⢷personal message

You don’t have to be religious in order to follow the words of God or what’s in your heart. Neither do you have to be religious in order to be considered a good person.

You are just you, and that’s enough.

You are good as you are, with your flaws, with your strengths and with your history. Don’t feel like you have to put on a show in order to be accepted. By this, I just mean that your existence is not a sin. What happened to you in the past is not a sin either, and don’t shame yourself for your normal human desires. Especially if you know it’s not your fault.

‘Picture perfect’ is picture perfect exactly because it’s not reality. Consider it an illusion if you wish.

— ✮⋆˙ someone in this pile is biologically a guy! , hey ya! - outkast , used to be a player , plush animals , bells , bunnies , wooden house , unfortunate childhood , growing up in poverty and actually managing to have a better life , nose bleeds , pink glittery food ? , hate for ants

my beautiful pile one please know that your intrusive thoughts are not you and I see all your efforts to be the best possible version of yourself, to treat yourself and humans with love and respect. you are pretty cool, please don’t beat yourself up. don’t blame yourself for the way other people have hurt you. I am also so sorry if your pile sounds a bit messy, I wrote it at 2AM. thank you for reading.

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

pile two : - a letter !

𐙚 : the lovers reversed, five of cups reversed, ten of swords reversed, ace of wands, the hermit, two of cups

bottom of the deck: the star & the empress reversed

♡ ⢷why He loves you

In the past you have made some pretty bad choices. I am not judging, because who didn’t? These could be things that you aren’t necessarily proud of and that you know hurt people. At that time, you didn’t have people’s best interest at heart. You didn’t even care much for it even.

The thing is, this changed. You changed it, without anyone having to tell you to.

You changed it because you didn’t enjoy the person you have become. All by yourself. God, and your guides for that matter, are very very proud of you for that. It could feel a bit unreal to hear that, but regardless, you are reading this pick a card for a reason.

Regardless, you made such a huge progress and became someone that you can be proud of. You are doing so well, there is nothing left but to praise you for how far you have become.

There was genuinely such a huge tower moment in your life which helped you become the person that you are today, one that helped you evolve and have people’s best interest in your heart. Not from a people pleasing stand point either, rather, you look at everyone as human and as crazy as it might sound this isn’t a quality many people have.

Rather than seeing people as strangers, obstacles or just an option to pass time with you have become much more empathetic and have way more emotional depth than what you used to have.

This has helped you and other people heal as well, it’s truly adorable. You have every right to be proud of yourself!

♡ ⢷personal message

The past is the past and the present is the present.

People change and this includes you. Don’t give yourself a hard time over things that no longer matter, or no longer can he helped.

Today, you are a just, wonderful and kind person. Someone that gives their all in everything they do, someone who does things with all their might. A person that is doing their best, every single day, even at times where they don’t want to. - It’s not the bare minimum, this is a very wholesome and just thing of you to do. Don’t under-appreciate your own efforts in life. You are doing so much, while getting so little and you are so strong for continuing to stand even though you feel like giving up at times.

You are doing so well, and I hope you will be able to see that.

— ✮⋆˙ zuko from atla , mha , break stuff - limp bizkits , smiley - yena ft bibi , ear ringing , silver jewellery , crying at night ? , porcelain dolls , grandma , beauty and the beast rose , swarovski princess dolls , blood , red lip tint , being distracted , recently finding out something important about yourself

bad people don’t worry about being bad. I know impostor syndrome can be hard, but you are doing so well! the past doesn’t define you but your efforts of self improvement do! thank you for reading. 🫶🏻

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

pile three : - the sea !

𐙚 : knight of wands reversed, the devil, three of swords reversed, nine of pentacles reversed, seven of swords reversed, ace of swords, ten of swords

bottom of the deck: queen of pentacles reversed

♡ ⢷why He loves you

Alright my beautiful pile three, I see your struggles. You have happened to be born into and grow up in an environment that doesn’t serve you any right. One that doesn’t align with your soul and keeps making you go through hardships.

Your family members are not necessarily people who always have your best interest at heart, and even if they do they don’t always succeed in showing you that.

They are much different from you, and even though you don’t necessarily deem yourself as perfect you know they are at times toxic even if they try to include you in things, try to make you feel good in your skin and so on. You, essentially are the black sheep of your family. Not because you try to stand out, not because you cause trouble on purpose but because you try to not make the mistakes that they do.

Being born into a family which you can love is a privilege, and I do think you got to understand that from a very young age even if not everyone in this pile hates their family you don’t always like them despite loving them. - Ironic, that could be something that people who chose this pile heard growing up. -

So, at many times you have felt lonely.

Despite this, you are doing your best. Some of you were at times severely mistreated, tricked into things or perhaps share wounds you genuinely never want to open up about.

Regardless of this, you don’t seek revenge. You don’t aim to hurt people. If you dislike someone you keep your distance, and focus on your own life.

On having good goals, good morals, being kind to strangers, being kind to family and being a good person overall.

Sure, sometimes you do get annoyed, quite a lot at times even, but you do your best to not react out of harsh and negative emotions, to not lash out on people. You know how it feels and don’t wish to inflict such negative kinds of emotions on people. So everyday, you do your best to don’t.

♡ ⢷personal message

Your surroundings don’t define you as a person, being the one to stand out doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you.

Sometimes you are just meant to stand out, to create differences, to be the foundation for a better future.

For yourself and those who are important to you.

If you can’t be, that’s fine. The world doesn’t rely on you, don’t overwhelm yourself if you believe that you deserve better. The world is give and take, you cannot just give and give and give without receiving anything back.

Being a giver is alright, and having a forgiving heart is beautiful, but you cannot sacrifice your well being just to please people.

— ✮⋆˙ ‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight one of your girls tonight’ , apple watch , an actual apple , lana del rey , ‘back to black’ , late night talks , ‘bye guys! hi ladies!’ , soobin from txt , dipper pines , weird food combos - peanut butter with pickles … ? whatever makes you feel happy my pile 3 - , back scratching , long nails , poverty , gangs (?)

I can definitely resonate with you my beautiful pile three, please just know that beautiful things await you. Like genuinely, you will have so many good things in life which you didn’t even previously think about or consider before. I hope you will be able to find so much happiness my little lamb. thank you for reading.

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

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rninies · 5 months

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✮ she looks just like a dream

౨ৎ sunday x reader. fluff, fem!reader, ceo!sunday is really hot idc, inspired by tears of themis marius card (iykyk), sunday might be ooc im sorry </3 — wc: 2,836

notes. guys i love sunday i want him so bad please

you hold on to the folds of your dress as you look around at the throng of people around you. two days ago, sunday extended an invitation to you to come to a charity auction he would be hosting tonight. one of his assistants had picked you up soon after you had finished with your paperwork, and here you are, taking in the wondrous architecture of a famous resort’s lobby.

everything looks so expensive here, you think, a grim expression on your face. rich people do have it easy, huh.

“please wait here a moment,” his assistant tells you. “i’ll get your registration finalized for you.”

“thank you.” you smile at him, watching her round the corner and leave you alone. again. you desperately want to give sunday a call, but you know he must be busy greeting guests and taking care of the preparations, so with a heavy sigh, you decide against it.

as you watch the stream of wealthy-looking people come in, a conversation catches your interest.

“who does sunday think he is? ordering people around like that!” you turn your head to see two people, seemingly a bit older than you, talking to each other. “i’ve been in the family's corporations longer than him, so there’s nothing to be afraid of!”

you are just about to approach them, but his assistant bustles back with papers. “your registration is done. come with me, i’ll lead you to the venue.” you turn your head back, about to protest, but causing a scene would be more than you bargained for, so you reluctantly follow him into the elevator.

an awkward silence engulfs the metal box you both are standing in before the assistant breaks it. “you don’t have to worry about what he said. he’s been like this for a long time.”

“eh?” you chirp, shocked. “y-you heard that?”

“yes,” he chuckles. “it’s quite common, i would say. i’m quite used to hearing those awful remarks they say about master sunday. he said he doesn’t mind, anyway, so it’s no use trying to defend him.”

you smile a bit at that. typical, indifferent sunday. “yeah… that’s true,” you murmur as the elevator comes to a halt. when you step out, you immediately feel overwhelmed by the flood of people greeting you.

maybe it’s because you’re used to only seeing a few people in the law firm and the fact that you don’t go out to parties often that you feel nauseous at the sight of the overcrowded room. you tried searching for sunday through the mass, but your height makes it harder for you to see above people’s heads.

you eventually spot him reclining in a chair, talking to a few people you recognize as the VIPs of the event. he looks like he isn’t going to finish any time soon, so you wave your hand and mouth that you’ll be waiting for him as sunday glances at you. your boyfriend gives you a small smile before turning his attention back to the group.

there is something different about sunday on this occasion, you decide. you’re used to seeing him in suits at important events, but the fact that his family crest is embossed on the suit makes it so much different. he looks so… different.

“y/n?” sunday's voice knocks you out of your daydream and back into reality. “why do you look so dazed? do i look so attractive that you aren’t able to take your eyes off me?”

your face flushes red, quickly turning away. “w-what are you talking about? you don’t look attractive. i was simply thinking about what drink to get,” you say, regaining your composure. though, you aren’t able to deny the fact that sunday is indeed attractive, even in his normal attire.

curse him and his family genes, you think to yourself.

“eh? love, why are you so mean to me these days?” sunday whines, his infamous puppy dog eyes coming into play. he always uses them on you, knowing they have such an effect on you. there isn’t a single moment in which the use of his puppy dog eyes doesn't make you tell the truth or agree to something he suggested. you, however, learned how to resist sunday's temptations.

“never mind that, mr. sunday,” you remark, a twinkle in your eyes as you look up at him. “if you were busy, you didn’t have to come to me. it looks like people are still wanting to talk to you,” you say, looking around at the throng almost surrounding you both. sunday gives a little chuckle.

“mm, that’s true. i’m quite famous, aren’t i?” sunday returns rather smugly, making you frown. “i’m just kidding! either way, i’m pretty sure they already understand that if I am currently talking to you, i don’t want to be disturbed because no one is trying to disturb-”

“excuse me, master sunday,” sunday's assistant appears, cutting sunday off abruptly. “there’s someone here who’d like to speak to you.”

the heir of the family sighs. “you really had to choose the worst timing,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair. “okay, i’ll be back, so stay put,” sunday continues, leaving to follow his assistant. you watch him until he’s out of sight, getting up to choose a drink. refreshers in every shade of color are laid out on the table that you almost don’t know which to pick.

“are you having trouble choosing a drink, my lady?” an unfamiliar voice emerges behind you, and turning around you realize that it is one of the men complaining about sunday in the lobby. “you don’t look too familiar with these drinks so how about you let me help you, hm?”

you cringe slightly at the attempt to flirt, but you offer him a smile in hopes of being polite. “oh, um, no thank you. i can get someone else to help me.”

the man shows no signs of leaving you alone, making you even more uncomfortable. “are you sure? all of the staff are busy as of the moment, so i can help.”

i might as well accept his offer. he doesn’t look like he’ll take no as an answer, you grimace before forcing a pleasant smile on your face. “okay, sure. which drink should-”

“ah, there you are!” sunday materializes, wrapping a hand around your waist and leaning over you. “i’ve been looking all over for you, sweetheart,” he drawls, you raise an eyebrow at the use of the new pet name. you soon catch up with the fact that he’s trying to help you out of this awkward situation.

“sunday! sorry for disappearing. i got thirsty and wanted to get something to drink so here i am,” you take a look at the man beside you, who lets out a ‘tch’ with a scowl on his face and leaves, allowing you to let your breath go. “thanks, sunday. he wouldn’t leave me alone ever since i got to this table.”

“yuki, huh,” sunday mutters, arm still around you. “he’s always been trying to get on my nerves. ever since i was revealed to be the heir to family corporation, that is.”

“really?” you query, surprise crossing over your face. “i overheard him- oh!” an exclamation leaves your sentence hanging as a waiter accidentally bumps into you, spilling the drinks he was carrying onto your dress.

“ah! i am so sorry, madam!” the waiter panics, whipping out a few napkins in an attempt to wipe away the mess on your dress. “i wasn’t watching my step, please forgive me!” he looks even more nervous when he glimpses sunday standing beside you with a minuscule frown on his face.

“hey, hey! it’s okay! this happens a lot during parties anyway,” your try at calming the waiter down wasn’t working, so you nudge sunday to help you reassure the former.

“ow!” sunday hisses, tenderly rubbing the area you elbowed. “i-it’s okay. just be more careful of where you’re going next time, okay?”

“yes!” the waiter squeaks out and leaves, but not before gracing you with another ‘sorry!’ for his mistake. as soon as he disappears, a small pout envelops your face.

“aw, now what am i supposed to do?” you wonder, patting your stained dress with a few more tissues sunday offers you. “I don’t have any spare clothes.”

“hehe,” sunday's little laugh catches your attention, and you furrow your eyebrows in reply. “you, my lady, are in luck because you have the sunday as your boyfriend and he’s always prepared for emergencies like this. come on, let’s go to the guest room.”

“why are we going there?” you question. you’re used to sunday and his little surprises, but you never imagined that he would have a spare change of clothes lying around for you to wear.

“to get you to change, of course!” sunday responds enthusiastically, grabbing a hold of your hand. he finds his assistant first, though, “if anyone asks where i am, tell them i have an important matter to take care of.”

you let out a giggle. “really? important matter? how is this important?”

“that’s because you’re always the most important in my eyes,” sunday tells you with his boyish grin, and he says with such ease that your cheeks are dusted pretty pink. you smile to yourself, a giddy grin, feeling as if it were only you and sunday in the world.

“okay, here we are,” sunday says as you arrive at a room, unlocking it with a gold-clasped key he procures from his pocket. “you can go ahead and change. i’ll wait out here.”

you nod in agreement, entering the room and shutting the door behind you. your gaze immediately falls upon a strikingly gorgeous violet dress laid out on the bed before you, adorned with layers and layers of deep purple that glows under the soft moonlight; complimenting the necklace spread out beside it.

at first glance, it seems like a normal necklace anyone could find in jewelry stores, but as you step forward to take a closer look, you let out a soft gasp: your name is engraved on it. you pick it up, noting how the necklace itself feels expensive.

though, you suppose, you should be used to expensive gifts from sunday. the man had been doing this even before they were dating. you let out a fond sigh; a small smile on your face as you take your dirty dress off to change into the one sunday had prepared.

sunday didn’t have to wait long for you, for you soon opens the door. sunday eyes widen, staring at you in the dress and the necklace he had bought two weeks previously. you look stunning.

you look like you had just stepped out of a fantasy royal novel.

a princess.

you look just like a dream. the prettiest girl sunday has ever seen.

“sunday? hello?” you wave a hand in front of his face, pulling him out of his daydream. “h-how do i look?”

“gorgeous,” sunday isn’t able to say anything other than that; his mind malfunctioning faster than his coffee machine had done this morning. “it-it looks really nice on you. i mean, of course it does, i was the one who chose that dress anyway.”

you press a quick, gentle kiss on sunday's lips, causing sunday to freeze on the spot for the second time that evening. “thank you, sunday. i loved the necklace too, by the way.”

sunday gives you a small smile and another peck on the cheek. “let’s go. the auction is about to start soon,” he says, extending his hand to you and feeling his heart flutter as you take it.

the room they had left is filled with even more people, and if you were being honest, it was suffocating you. you take a seat close to the brightly decorated stage, watching sunday take control of the whole room.

“everyone, welcome to the second charity auction event hosted by the family corporation!” sunday exclaims joyously, as the people in the venue applaud politely. “i won’t be taking too much time for tonight’s opening ceremony, so, without further ado, let the event start!” sunday bows, and signals to the auctioneer to take the lead as he returns to your side.

the auction, with quite a few bidders raising the prices of objects you think shouldn’t cost more than a few hundred dollars, goes smoothly until it reaches the last object.

“alright, our last item for tonight! an amethyst hairpin starting at the cost of one thousand dollars!” the auctioneer states, waiting for bids.

“two thousand!” a hand emerges from the crowd.

“tch… three thousand!”

“three thousand five hundred!”

“four thousand!”

“ten thousand,” sunday interrupts smoothly, shocking both you and the audience. you stare wide-eyed at him, in disbelief that he would bid that much in an auction you didn’t expect him to participate in.

“ten thousand dollars from mr. sunday! going once,” counting down, the auctioneer stares around, but no one seems ready to object. “going twice… sold to mr. sunday at ten thousand dollars!” applause erupts from the audience, congratulating sunday for obtaining the hairpin. you clap as well, figuring out who sunday would spend that much money on a hairpin for (though, to be honest, you already have a feeling who it’s for).

you soon find out though - his assistant soon brings the hairpin over to sunday, who inspects it closely, smiling as he hands it over to you. “here, it’s for you.”

“eh?!” you cry out, in shock, that sunday would be giving you something worth more than your whole apartment. “wh-what do you mean? i thought- wait, huh?!”

sunday only laughs gaily at your reaction, eliciting the attention of bystanders. “why are you so shocked? the necklace you’re wearing costs almost as much as this hairpin. plus, this is a thank-you gift. i know you don’t really like going to big events like this but you still came.”

“of course i did,” you beam softly. “you’re my boyfriend after all - wouldn’t miss any of your events for the world. now, did you want to place the hairpin on me?”

sunday nods, sliding the hairpin slowly into your beautiful hair. the light shade of purple the hairpin reflects matches the dress you had on, and the sight makes sunday's heart fill with joy.

there’s something about you that feels different in sunday's eyes. you look so… dazzling and gorgeous that he fumbles for words to express himself.

“hm, it matches you very well as expected,” sunday says, a soft tone engulfing his usual cheeky voice. “now then, would you like to escape, my lady?”

“huh?” the sound barely leaves your mouth before sunday drags you away from the auction site, quickly getting into an elevator and pressing the doors shut before anyone could catch up to them. as soon as it opens again at the lobby, sunday makes a beeline for the exit, you thankfully not tripping on your heels.

sunday spots an empty park up ahead, and as expected sunday dashes across to it, letting go of your hand as you both drop to the grass.

you both lie in silence for a few moments, panting, before bursting into sweet laughter that interrupts the solace of the quiet evening.

“that… was probably one of the most epic moments i had… since forever!” sunday exclaims, turning to you with happiness painted over his face. “i was surprised you didn’t try protesting in the elevator.”

“how could i?” you return, out of breath. “i wanted to get out of there… as well. as much as i liked being with you in the family's events, i’d rather have it this way. just the two of us.”

“hm. just the two of us, huh? aw, you flatter me, baby,” sunday coos at you. he suddenly sits up, fumbling through the folds of his suit and sighing in relief when he holds his phone up. “oh, thank god. i thought i left my phone back there,” giving you a small smile, a familiar song starts playing. “would you like to dance, my lady?”

you take his smooth, outstretched hand, placing both hands on his broad shoulders while sunday places one of his hands on your waist.

you both aren’t doing anything special, barely any experience in dancing, and yet your bodies flow gracefully to the tune of the gentle song across the chilly night wind, dancing slowly under the glow of the moon.

with your foreheads pressed against each other’s, you lock eyes, basking in the beautiful moment together. relaxing never came easy to you both, given your incredibly busy schedules, but once given the chance, you both will take it in a heartbeat.

the familiar worries of being rude don’t cross your mind at all, realizing that you’re too focused on sunday. slow dancing in the dark with only the moon to light their dance floor, away from the chatter of the crowd. absolutely perfect.

the song quickly comes to an end, ending your lover’s dance with a small brush of lips.

“i love you so much, sunday” you whisper softly.

“i love you more, love,” sunday replies, the ghost of a grin upon his lips.

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anyarose011 · 4 months

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One More Reason to Control Myself {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Angus Tully knows she's hiding something. Why else would she lie about where she was the morning of Christmas Eve?

Part 5 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, and mention of exploitation of a minor.

We get an Angus POV chapter, motherfuckaas!! I had fun writing from his perspective while also giving him a little more backstory as well. Also, considering I want to try and eliminate the Y/N effect, anytime there's a she or her (italicized) it's you, dear reader. Shoutout to me forgetting there was a character named Danny in the movie, so I have to cover my ass for naming the creep "Daniel". Also, part 2 of an Angus/Reader coded song (what do you mean it breaks my heart? No it doesn't!)

Word Count: 7.1k

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“So, why’d you miss supper last night, and why is little miss Jane Bennet missing breakfast now too?”

That was what Mary asked Angus and Paul Hunham at Christmas Eve breakfast. Mr. Hunham glanced around, trying not to show his nerves, but failed. “Oh, we went into town on some uh, school-related business. As for my daughter…I do not know; she wasn’t there when I woke up, have you seen her, Angus?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

Mary hummed. The door opened, and in came Danny, the janitor who, even in the below freezing temperatures of winter, somehow almost had a smile on his face. Carrying in a mop and bucket, he greeted. “Good morning, everybody.”

“Good morning,” Mary pointed to the kitchen. “you can go on in and fix yourself a plate.”

He nodded. “I just saw something funny. I walked into the gym, and someone had vomited in there.”

Angus stilled as he drank his orange juice. Mary looked at him and Mr. Hunham, and the two of them looked at each other.

“You don’t say,” it was Paul who spoke first. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Angus answered loosely.

“No, uh, I’ll look into that right away. Thank you.”

Mary raised one of her brows. “I see how it is.”

Danny shook his head, walked over to Angus, and placed the bucket and mop by him before walking away. “You’re out your mind.”

Angus sighed, fiddling with the eggs on his plate. It had been a week of a frozen hell for him (perhaps not so bad…he made a friend. A friend who, despite there being billions of nerves in the body, she still managed to get on every single one of them; yet, he knows he does the same to her). Still, as Christmas Eve was supposed to be a time of excitement for the holidays, Angus Tully felt nothing of the sort.

He had no idea if it was because he was getting older, or because his father wouldn’t be there after Christmas mass, carrying him out of the car when he pretended to fall asleep.

Maybe it’s because he didn’t live in the same house anymore where the Christmases he used to love took place…

Fortunately, his moments of wintertime dread were gone once the doubles doors from the outside were opened. He watched as Mr. Hunham’s daughter entered, pulling off her gloves and unwrapping the scarf that was brought up over her hair and around her neck.

“And where were you?” Mary was the first to interrogate, sitting beside Angus, still smoking her cigarette.

She smiled, approaching the table. “Out.”

“Out where?” Her father then questioned.

Chuckling, the girl pulled out a chair by her father and sat down, taking an orange of the fruit basket, peeling it. “Just on a walk. I gotta clear my head from you people sometimes.”

Mr. Hunham shook his head, not necessarily shocked by her response, but still bewildered. “Clear your-? How long were you out?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I woke up around seven-thirty, read for a bit, then went out. So…maybe eight? Not for long, that’s for sure.”

Angus knew she was lying. He didn’t mean to peek into her room when he woke up (genuinely he didn’t, no matter what anyone says). Even though Mr. Hunham decided not to wake everyone up at the crack of dawn since Angus was the only holdover, the boy’s internal clock wouldn’t let him sleep in. So, the first thing he needed to do was go to the bathroom, and as he passed by the doorway to her room, she wasn’t there.

He didn’t think anything of it until he was eating breakfast at eight-thirty, and he still didn’t see her.

“I see.” Her father furrowed his brow, but then shrugged, going back to lunch. “Well, please at least eat something other than fruit.”

She took the whole bowl. “But it’s the candy of the good ol’ days.”

“And what are the good ol’ days?” Mary huffed,

“Ancient Rome and Greece,” she popped a grape into her mouth. “also when women had less rights than they do now.”

Angus snorted, trying to then cover up his amusement with a cough. He didn’t find women not having rights funny (please believe him), it was just unexpected of her to say. Still, he felt all eyes on him, and refused to meet any of them as he picked up a piece of bacon.

He likes to think Mr. Hunham’s daughter was smiling at him when she stood up. “Fine, I’ll get real food.”

She went to the kitchen to grab a plate, and Mary hummed. “Never thought I’d see that girl ever be happy this early in the morning.”

Angus finally looked up. “She usually isn’t?”

Mary smirked, placing her cigarette between her lips. “I don’t think you’d last a day with her if you were both ten.”

There was nothing else to do after Mr. Hunham lectured Angus for an hour about the aqueducts in Rome. What was usually two and a half hours was only one, since the teacher claimed: “I’m feeling a little generous because of the season.”

Not because he wanted to drink alone in Dr. Woodrup’s office reading mystery novels (Don’t be ridiculous).

So, that brought Angus Tully back up to the infirmary, to do what, who fucking knows? He glanced into the other room and saw Mr. Hunham’s daughter laying on the middle bed, reading. When she looked up, sensing his presence, he instinctively hid behind the corner.

“You don’t have to be creepy anymore.” She spoke with the sarcasm he knew so well. “We’re friends, remember?”

Angus, playing it cool, entered the room, leaning against the wall. “Who says I was ever creepy to begin with?”

“I did.” She placed a bookmark in her book before setting it down and sitting up. “And you know, ordinary people just enter a room; they usually don’t bother checking.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “maybe you’ve convinced me there are ghosts here and I just want to be safe?”

Not because he was hoping she was in her room and had a reason to go talk to her (Don’t be ridiculous).

She rolled her eyes yet smiled anyway. “Took you long enough to figure out I’m always right.”

“I said ‘maybe’. What’re you reading?”

“Just now or in general?”

“Yes.”

She held up The Two Towers. “You ever read Tolkien?”

Angus sat on the spare bed across from her. “I read The Hobbit my freshman year; one of the only books I liked reading in school.”

His eyes fell to the stack of books on her nightstand. Little Women, Sense and Sensibility, Giovanni’s Room, andThe Count of Monte Cristo.

“You’ve read all of these?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah.” She then pointed to The Count of Monte Cristo on the bottom. “Well, I actually tried to read this one when I was fourteen but got bored with it; I’m trying again.”

“Right after you reread everything else?”

“Shut up.”

She tried to sound serious, but he watched as she turned her head to try and hide her smile. He wasn’t ashamed to show her his. Angus’ eyes went back to the stack of books, and he took out Little Women, flipping to the first page.

“‘Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.’ Grumbled Jo.” He read aloud, then looked up from the book. “Now I know why Mr. Hunham calls you that.”

“Are you saying I’m selfish, Fitzwilliam?”

He shook his head, going back to reading. “No, you just complain a lot.”

She scoffed. “Just wait until you meet Amy. I love her, but I’m glad I don’t have sisters.”

Angus’ didn’t respond, his eyes trailing over the words on the pages. He didn’t truly know why he kept reading; whether it was out of boredom, or perhaps he was already hooked on the story, he would never tell.

“Wait,” he heard her. “are you still reading?”

“Damnit, you made me miss my spot.” He glared at her.

She already knew he didn’t mean it (that much). Still, the girl giggled, laying back down on the bed and opening The Two Towers, going back to her own reading. They were like that for ten minutes perhaps? It was a strange time that went by fast and slow. No, Angus Tully wasn’t even doing this to think of what to say to her, he was genuinely engrossed by Louisa May Alcott.

Then, it was when he was more than half-way done with the first chapter, that he asked. “Where were you this morning?”

She looked over at him. “I’m guessing you hate the book?”

“Don’t change the subject.” He sat up. “And no, it’s actually tolerable.”

“Tolerable for it being written by a woman?” She sat up as well. “And for your information, I just went to the woods. What, were you worried about me or something?”

“Maybe…I don’t know, maybe.” Were the only thoughts behind his eyes, but his mouth moved differently.

“No. Wait, you’re walking around the woods, and you’re calling me creepy?”

“What’s so creepy about walking around the woods by myself?” She questioned. “If there was someone following me, then they would be creepy, dumbass.”

“I’m just saying, I don’t know anyone who spends their time frolicking through the woods for fun.”

“You didn’t really know anyone, but neither did I, so we’re even.” She stood up, going to the window to look out of it. “I also prefer frolicking through flower fields, but this isn’t the best season for that.”

Angus hummed. “Yeah, I noticed.”

He debated on asking her why she was out there for an hour and a half; if she was in the woods, or if she was even outside. Just as he was battling with himself and wondering how to ask her without her biting his head off, he saw her tremble.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing he asked.

“Come over here.” She commanded without looking at him.

He stood up immediately, and as he was halfway to the window, she giggled; a sound he had heard before but…not like this, somehow. Angus stood beside her at the window and watched as Mr. Hunham walked on the sidewalk by the quad, stretching.

“Look at that sad, little man.” She tisked.

Angus asked without looking away. “You talk about your dad like that?”

“You would too if he was yours.”

“Point made.”

They watched as the teacher picked up a stray football on the ground, and with perhaps the worst technique ever, threw it. Both she and Angus, as if her father would see them in the window, backed away from it, laughing at the absurdity.

“I almost feel bad now.” She said through her enjoyment. “That’s a lie, I don’t.”

Her honesty only caused Angus to laugh even more, and he can’t remember when the last time it was he had ever laughed this much. Especially over something so stupid.

“Well, it’s obvious he didn’t play football in high school.” He said.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “he’d go on and on about being president of Latin and Chess club.”

That’s where Angus’ amusement ceased. Even if it was at his own expense, he didn’t mind it at all since he could see just how wide her smile could get.

“Angus Tully, don’t tell me-.”

“-What’s wrong with Chess club?”

“I knew it!” She pointed at him. “You nerd!”

“You’re the one that knows all of Roman history and mythology like the back of your hand, and you’re calling me a nerd?!” He teased.

The girl snorted, crossing her arms. “Not all of it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“So why have I lost to you twice now?”

“I just got lucky.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

“I’m serious!” He tried to brighten the strange air that settled in the room. “Your dad didn’t drill it into you for nothing.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” She hummed, sitting back on the bed. “So, you’re good at chess?”

He shrugged, taking a risk and sitting next to her (with about two feet of space of course). “I guess so. My…my dad taught me how to play, and I never beat him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, nearly losing himself in the memory. “I was like nine when this snowstorm hit, I was out of school for almost a week, and my dad and I just played the whole time.”

“So, you played without bathroom breaks, and you still didn’t win?”

“Okay, smartass.”

She smiled. “My dad tried teaching me chess and he beat me every time too.”

“You still play?”

“Hell no.”

“Why not?”

“I always cussed at my him whenever I lost, so probably not a good idea to keep going.”

Angus snickered. “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“You were cussing at seven?”

“He was an asshole!”

“Yeah, I’ve met him.”

It was almost horrifying how her face dropped at his comment. One where it was like the words themselves shocked her. Then, before Angus could fully register what had just happened, she was laughing.

“Sorry,” she shook her head. “I’m just imaging what you looked like as a kid.”

He tried to laugh it off with her, but that odd tension crept its way back in. “I was weird.”

“So was I. You should’ve seen me when I was twelve, my father drilling Roman knowledge into my head, proclaiming how, if I wanted to be better than all of the boys in my class, I had to work for it.” She grinned. “It’s like he tried to make me a small version of him, which was impossible from the start.”

Angus nodded, not exactly knowing how to respond. “Yeah?”

“Of course.” She shrugged. “Well, he doesn’t mean to, but I feel like he sometimes forgets I might want to wear ribbons in my hair, put on makeup, girly things like that that I almost called stupid, but they’re not. But could you imagine it? My father wearing makeup and…okay, he doesn’t have much hair for ribbons, but you get it.”

“I do.” He smiled.

She nodded, and they fell into another beat of silence. It was almost a competition as to who would speak first, and in the end, she surprisingly lost. She stood up from the bed.

“I uh…I promised Mary I’d help her in the kitchen.” She walked backwards. “You’re more than welcome to keep reading my ‘tolerable’ books written by women.”

Angus hummed, trying to shake off her abrupt exit. “Yeah, I got nothing else better to do. Maybe I’ll meet you downstairs and keep harassing you?”

“Yeah sure.”

With that, she turned on her heel and scurried out of the infirmary. Angus always found her to be strange; from the moment she stepped into Mr. Hunham’s classroom in September, to her just then. Still, it was a strangeness he couldn’t help but be intrigued by. Not the same as how a scientist would study a foreign species but…he had grown quite fond of her.

He already had a liking for her that first day he met her (despite her harsh and course attitude towards the others in class). Not a liking enough to have it be a crush per say (he was still annoyed with her). Then, the whole catastrophe of him being stuck with her over Christmas break only added fuel to a fire.

A fire that has both warmed and burned him all at once.

What kind of shit was he going on about? He read half of a chapter from Little Women, and now look at him!

Not knowing what else to do with himself, Angus slid The Count of Monte Cristo out from the bottom of the stack of books. It had been one of his favorites as a kid; ironic in both a sense that he read it as a child, but also his mother of all people recommended it to him. Before he could even flip it to the first page, he saw a small gap in the middle as if there was a bookmark. He opened it and found a letter; an already opened letter.

Angus’ blood ran cold at the sight of it, and as he took it onto his hands, he turned it over. It was addressed to her, and the stamp was a toy train. He had only gotten a glance at the first letter when Teddy stole it, and he recognized the stamp.

Sighing, it almost felt like the envelope was burning in his hand as he hunched over himself. He could’ve read it…it was right there, and it was already opened so it’s not like she would’ve ever known.

But he would’ve. And he knew there was no going back if he read whatever Daniel wrote to her, and even if it wasn’t bad (how could it not be), then he knew she’d be able to sniff him out like a rat that he’d read it.

Wait…Daniel…Danny…The janitor.

“Shit!” Angus hissed, almost falling off the bed, then sprinting out of the infirmary and running blindly though the school he has gone to for months.

He ran outside without a jacket on, looking around for Mr. Hunham. When he already saw his fingers beginning to turn white in a matter of a minute, he ran back into the school and navigated the halls as if he were a bat out of hell.

It took him quite literally running into Mr. Hunham for him to finally stop.

“God almighty, Mr. Tully!” He gasped. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Angus, trying to catch his breath, said. “Mr. Hunham, I have to tell you something.”

Immediately upon noticing his distress, the teacher’s harsh demeanor and voice dropped. “Well…alright, what is it?”

“Can-.” He looked around, feeling suddenly exposed in the hallway. “Can we do this somewhere else?”

“Sure, sure.” Mr. Hunham nodded, looking around as well until his eyes landed on the first door he saw. “Let’s uh, is there fine?”

“Yeah.”

They both entered into a classroom that neither had been in before. It was smaller in size, more than likely meant for honor’s classes, but it looked like it hadn’t been dusted since the beginning of the year when parent��s would visit. When the door was shut, Mr. Hunham turned back to him.

“Now, what’s going on?”

Angus said her name. “Someone’s been sending her letters.”

“What kind of letters?” He asked, his face a mix of confusion and even a hint of denial.

“I…” Angus looked down at the one he had in hand and held it out to the teacher. Mr. Hunham took it, slipping his reading glasses out of his pocket. Angus continued. “Someone named Daniel sent her one days ago, Kountze stole it and read it aloud to everyone back in the woods. I think it’s Danny, the janitor.”

The moment he said ‘Daniel’, he’d already seen Mr. Hunham’s entire demeanor change. He saw him visibly tense, as he read the letter what must have been a million times. As time stood still in the dingy classroom, the teacher swallowed thickly.

“You said she got another letter a few days ago? Where is it?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head.

“Mr. Kountze read it aloud, what exactly did it say?”

“I…” Angus paused, trying to remember just what was written so he wouldn’t miss a thing, “He asked her to send a picture of herself to him, and wished her a Merry Christmas. He sent her thirty-five dollars too; did he send more?”

Mr. Hunham shook his head, obviously bewildered at the amount of money. “No, he didn’t. Mr. Tully, did you even read this?”

“No.” His response was instant.

“Why not?”

Angus’ eyes trailed to the side, somehow finding the blank chalkboard much more appealing than Mr. Hunham. To be honest, anything at the time was more-.

“Angus,” His voice was stern, but not mean. It was enough to catch the boy’s attention, but not enough to scare him. “I need to know what you know, so we can help her.”

He took a deep breath. “Teddy made a joke that she…she…has pictures of herself in a skin mag.” It was absolute hell to watch Mr. Hunham sigh, so Angus looked away as he continued. “She didn’t say that she did, but she didn’t deny it, and I didn’t want to know whatever creepy shit Danny sent-.”

“-First off,” Mr. Hunham interrupted, rubbing his face. “this isn’t Danny the janitor.”

“How do you know?”

“Daniel,” He tried to say the name like he was a historical figure and not someone who made his skin crawl away from his body. “was...a family friend of some sort. That is all you have to know about him.”

Angus nodded, but couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest, and how his stomach began to tie itself into knots as he asked. “Why did he stop being a family friend?”

“I said that’s all you have to know about him.” He said with more of a bite, then calmed himself. “I’ll speak to her about this the next time I see her, and rest assured, I won’t mention you.”

“She’ll know it’s me.” He shook his head. “I found it in one of her books when she left the infirmary after we talked.”

Mr. Hunham clutched the letter in one hand while removing his glasses with the other. “Regardless of details I cannot share with you, this little incident should not effect on how you view my daughter-.”

“-It doesn’t! I just-!” He lashed out unexpectedly at even the assumption of him finding any shred of blaming her for what was happening to her. “I just…I want her to be okay. That’s it.”

The teacher all but froze at his response, it is apparent that he was not expecting him to say that. Still, after regaining himself, he nodded. “You’re a good man for doing this, you know that, right?”

Angus scoffed, shrugging. “I don’t think she’ll talk to me ever again.”

“She may not,” he nodded. “but she also might. I won’t force her to do either. Again, thank you for letting me know.”

“Sure.”

The two of them walked out of the classroom in silence, and with Mr. Hunham’s “See you at dinner?” and his student’s nod, Angus Tully was left alone again in the grand halls of the school.

A fate that has somehow always caught up with him ever since he got there.

Angus read the same Popular Mechanics magazine three times over since he found it the night he was the only one left behind at Barton, and he’d gotten sick of it after the second time.

So, with nothing else better to do, and with it starting to get dark, he went down into the kitchen, where apparently everyone but Danny was, helping Mary cook. Including her. She was washing vegetables in the sink while Mary was preparing a roast, both of them laughing at someone one of them said. Mr. Hunham was just at the table, peeling potatoes like his life depended on it.

“Mary.” Angus greeted, smiling at her. Mr. Hunham’s daughter immediately turned back to the sink upon seeing him.

Mary looked up. “Speaking of…”

Deciding to ignore the strange tension in the room (He has a knack for doing that, doesn’t he?), Angus’ eyes traveled around until they landed on a dish beside him. “Oh, brownies? God yes, I want all of these.”

“Ah, ah!” Mary scolded when he took one. “Just take one. The rest is for the Christmas party tonight.”

“What Christmas party? There’s a Christmas party?” He said her name. “Did you know there’s a Christmas party?”

She didn’t turn around, and only responded with. “Uh-.”

“-Yes, at Miss Crane’s house.” Mary interrupted her. “She and I are only going for a little bit, show our faces, and say we were there. Well, she might stick around since her little friend is there. You know, Miss Crane said she invited you too.”

Angus furrowed his brows, looking over at Mr. Hunham. “I want to go to the party.”

He stammered. “She-she didn’t mean it. We were just making small talk.”

Mary shrugged. “If you don’t want to go, don’t go. I’ll take him.”

“Mary can take me.” Angus reiterated.

“No, that’s not how it works.” Mr. Hunham raised his voice a hint. “You’re under my supervision.”

Angus frowned. “So, your own kid isn’t under your supervision, but I am?”

“Don’t even think about pulling me into this.” The ‘kid’ in question shook her head, not even turning around.

Still, he scoffed, bringing his eyes back to Mr. Hunham. “Okay, maybe it’s fine for you to sit around here and read books all day,” he turned on his heel, beginning to walk out. “but I’m losing my goddamn mind, Jesus!”

“Hey!” Mary yelled at him once he threw the brownie across the room. “Watch your mouth, young man! Not on Christmas Eve.”

Angus ignored her, storming off back to the infirmary. He didn’t even make it to his room and a bed to dramatically throw himself on and scream into a pillow. He rested his back against the wall before sliding down it. Now sitting, his shoulders still tensed at what just happened. He’d been stuck in the school for a full week, only being able to go out when he dislocated his entire shoulder.

Who the fuck did that piece of shit think he was for holding him captive?!

Closing his eyes, he thought back to what Dr. Gertler told him. Sure, the guy was a quack, but once or twice he actually had a few things that helped him. Angus breathed in, counting to four, held it for three, then released it for another four.

He repeated that until he felt the tension (mostly) fall away from him, and there was even a hint of calmness in his head.

Which was then lost when he opened his eyes, and she was peeking from around the corner.

“Jesus!” He gasped, and she immediately hid. Once his heart stopped beating so damn fast, he said. “Okay, now who’s being creepy?”

“…Me.” She said after a moment’s silence, still hiding.

Sighing, rested his head against the wall. “I’m sorry I yelled earlier.”

She finally showed herself, standing in front of him now. “I don’t think I’m the one you should apologize to but thank you. My dad said you can go to the party with Mary and I.”

That got Angus to sit up taller. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, but he’s going with us, so it won’t be that fun.” She joked.

He snickered along with her, before asking. “What about dinner?”

“We’ll probably just have it at Miss Crane’s. We’ll just have a nice lunch or something tomorrow instead of tonight.” She explained before walking into her room.

This was what caught Angus Tully off guard. She wasn’t exactly acting like her father had just confronted her about the letters, she was being too nice to him…so did she know it was him? She had to; or was he just overthinking it and getting in his own head (Something he did frequently)?

“When are we leaving?” He asked.

“In an hour!” She yelled, her voice somewhat muffled. “So, get on it, Fitzwilliam.”

“Anything you say, Amy!”

He ran off before she could storm after him (like he assumed she would), and went back into his room, which had darkened quite a bit. He went to his bag and took out the razor and shaving cream that he had only opened a few times since the beginning of the semester. He shook the can and applied the cream to his face before bringing the blades of the razor up to shave.

There was honestly no need to. It’s not like he even had “sawdust under his nose” as one would put it when talking about the mustache men would try to grow after watching Top Gun, which didn’t exist at this time, but that’s beside the point.

Even so, as he wat attempting to shave what was not there, he heard a knock, and her voice asked. “Are you decent?”

“Yep.” He answered, not even bothering to glance at the hall of lockets she had knocked from.

She came into his eyesight and stood so close to him in the mirror that he could feel the heat of her skin on his. “Move over.”

“Why?” He scoffed playfully, yet still did so.

It was only then he noticed the small makeup bag she had in her hand, and she placed it on the sink before opening it and taking out a sponge and small jar of liquid that matched her skin tone (it was foundation; he’d heard the word before but didn’t know it was that until perhaps a year later).

“The lighting’s better in here.” She answered, getting close to the mirror and dabbing the liquid on the sponge and upon her face.

Angus took a second (and only a second, if he took any longer she’d yell at him) to look at her entire self, and saw that she was wearing a dress. A dress that he would never have imagined on her. Her hair was almost the same as always...but there was something more to it he couldn't quite verbalize.

She was still herself, and it was silly to Angus Tully that it took a different dress and perhaps some makeup (something he’d hardly see her wear) to realize just how…just how…

“You look…” His mouth trailed off faster than his brain before he could stop himself.

After finishing her foundation, she took out a powder and brush. As she applied the powder, she glanced up at him through the mirror, a smirk on her face that was holding back a laugh. “Yeah?”

He couldn't call her ‘pretty’ (both because she’d never talk to him again, and that would be belittling her), and he couldn't call her ‘beautiful’ (she just wouldn’t talk to him again period; and he’d probably be scaring her off). So, apparently, the best thing he could think of in a limited amount of time was-.

“-Like a girl.”

Oh, how attractive it was to open one of the windows and jump out of it. If it wasn’t the fall that would kill him, it would certainly be freezing to death in a foot of snow.

Instead, to his surprise, while she momentarily scowled at him (as she should have), she giggled. Shaking her head, she said. “I would say you look like a man, but there’s nothing about you to prove that.”

As his heart began to beat again from her apparent lack of offense, he took the towel off the rack and wiped the residue cream off his face. “Oh yeah? What am I then?”

“A boy.” She set down the brush and took out a small tube of liquid, shaking it. “A tall, little boy.”

He snorted, walking away from the mirror when her gaze became just a little too much. “You said you were friends with Miss Crane’s niece?”

“Yes.” Her tone changed somewhat (or was he just overthinking it).

“Do you think I could-?”

“-Should I put on eyeshadow?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“You know,” she turned over her shoulder. “the color that goes on the eyelids?”

“I know what eyeshadow is. I’m not that big into makeup, so I don’t know.”

“Really?” She teased. “You aren’t into makeup?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She turned back to the mirror, opening the tube. “Nothing.”

Angus’ eyes scrunched as he smiled at her playfulness. “Well-.”

“-Shut up.” She interrupted him.

He scowled. “Huh?”

She had the pen (it was eyeliner; he actually knew what that was) hovering over her right eye, and she was glancing at him again through the mirror. “I’m doing the most important part, and it’s the one I’m horrible at, so I need complete silence.”

Angus Tully merely nodded, looking away. He didn’t know how long she took, but she knew she was finished when he heard her gasp.

“I did it!” He looked back and saw that she turned to him with the biggest smile on her face, and blackened wings kissing the corner of her eyes. “I did it!”

He could only nod. “Yeah, it looks good.”

She grinned from ear to ear before turning back to the mirror, setting down her eyeliner and getting out an eyelash curler. “Could I ask you a question, even though you’ll feel stupid afterwards?”

“Do your worst.”

“Why ‘Amy’?”

Angus felt safe to smile at that. “Does that bother you?”

“Why, on God’s green earth, would you say I was like Amy?!”

“Well,” he shrugged. “it pisses you off, that’s the first reason. Second is…she grew on me.”

She scowled, turning to look at him. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“I mean…you made her out to be so annoying, and someone who complains a lot which, yes she does. But she’s funny, and she sticks to herself like Jo does, but…I don’t know, I just like her.”

Her face fell for the second time that day; but not like it did that afternoon when he made a joke about her father. No, this time, he knew it was because she truly didn’t think he would say anything like that.

And, for the first time since he’d known her, she almost looked shy.

Something he thought would be the thing that terrified him the most that entire Christmas break.

So, when she didn’t respond, and wanting to disrupt the awkward silence, he then asked. “Wait, why was your dad so against going, but now he’s fine with it?”

She looked back at the mirror, looking at him through it. “Besides the fact it wouldn’t be fair that you’d be stuck here while I’d go, he has a crush on Miss Crane.”

Angus snorted. “Figures.”

She shrugged. “I kind of always knew. I mean, she’s worked here for five years, but I think he only started liking her last year. I’m also not sure what he’s more afraid of; how I’d react to him liking someone after Mom died, or him just liking her period.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

“My mother’s been in the ground for six years.” She decided to take the eyelash curler back in her hand, then brought it up to one of her eyes. “We still visit her of course. She wasn’t selfish either, and it’s been so long, so I don’t think she’d mind. Besides, I’m going to technically graduate next semester, and I don’t want to be stuck here, but I also don’t want him to be alone. Mary’s really his only friend so…yeah, I think I’d be okay if he was with Miss Crane.”

Angus nodded. At first, it felt almost invasive and even wrong for her to tell him all of that so effortlessly. But…he leaned into it the more she went on. She’d been vulnerable with him before (whether she thought it or not, she had been), but this time…it wasn’t a huge confession, it was just a simple conversation.

“I don’t…” He found himself saying.

He didn’t what? What was he going to say? Something about his father? His mother? It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her something.

She took the curler away from herself and turned to look at him. Her eyes…her damn-no, they weren’t damned; they were kind, gentle…but still he felt damned just as she looked at him in a way he hadn’t ever seen her look at anyone before. She was waiting for him to say something.

Say something.

She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t done anything but stare at him, but he was suddenly twelve again. Angus Tully, with his hair that was just beginning to have out of place curls, walking into his parent’s room at two in the morning. He woke his mother up, who gasped when he touched her. After she calmed down, she was appalled to see him crying.

It wasn’t a bad dream, it wasn’t because something had happened to him at school; he didn’t know what was making him weep, but he was doing it anyway.

He could barely say anything, he babbled like a baby learning to talk, and all he could get out was “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

His mother tried her best (he liked to himself that), but she could only say “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

Didn’t she hear him? He didn’t know.

Even now, at seventeen, he didn’t know what to say to her.

“I don’t know how you can use that.” He glanced at the eyelash curler.

She furrowed her brow upon the change in tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, it looks like a torture device.”

Scoffing, she looked back to the mirror and curled the lashes of her other eyes. “You’ve just never tried it before.”

“And I never will.”

She looked back at him once she was finished. “Are you scared?”

“No, I just don’t see the reason to.”

She shrugged. “I think you’re scared.”

“Am not.”

“Okay, then let me put mascara on you.”

He scoffed. “You’re kidding.”

“No.” She shook her head. “If you’re not scared then you’ll let me stick something in your eye. You don’t have to wear it to the party, but I think it’d be fun.”

Angus was at a loss. She was a good actress, so how was he supposed to know she wasn’t messing with him? Well…he didn’t; he just had to trust her. To be fair, he had been weird around her this whole time, so…

“I’m not doing the torture device, just the makeup.”

Her face lit up, and she took the mascara out of her bag, setting everything else inside of it. “Get over here.”

He followed, leaning against the wall by the mirror. Suddenly, as he stood in front of her, he was nervous. It wasn’t the first time he was (whether that was because of her wit, her confidence, or even her meanness), it was because it was just her.

“How uh,” he stammered. “how are we doing this.”

“Lean down first of all, fuck why are you so tall?”

“Not one of my favorite qualities.” He joked, pressing his hand against the sink for support as he lowered himself slightly.

“Meh,” she shrugged, unscrewing the cap of her mascara. “girls usually like tall guys.”

His heart flipped. “Yeah?”

She froze momentarily before continuing. “I guess. Elise told me.”

“Right.”

“Okay, close your eyes. You’re going to want to open them when you feel something touch your eye, but I promise you, you don’t want to do that.”

“Sounds good.” He closed his eyes, waiting for the feeling of discomfort. He could feel the heat of herself hover around him, but the pain from the mascara never came.

He heard her sigh. “This isn’t going to work.”

Angus opened his eyes when he felt her draw away, and he saw her sit on one of the beds. She titled her head. “Come here.”

He didn’t know if his heart was still or was going to beat itself out of his chest. Obviously, he sat by her before but…he had to be closer to her. Angus did his best not to make a big deal of it, but he felt like he was almost watching himself outside of his body as he sat beside her and closed his eyes.

“Do you want to know what my mom called me when I was younger?”

She was trying to distract him and he knew it. “Sure.”

“Ever heard of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

He tensed but soon relax when she rested her hand on his cheek; it felt like she was burning him, but the way that he felt whenever he had a fever. Somehow…it was comforting. Breathing shallowly, he answered. “Greek? Kind of.”

“Well,” he cowered away a little when he felt something brush his eyelashes but kept calm as she continued. “where my father loved Roman history and mythology, my mother was more into the Greeks. They’d go back and forth debating on which was more influential, and that was more so how they became friends. She…before I was born, she talked about naming me Eurydice because it was her favorite story. My dad was obviously against it, so that was a no. So, that’s when she’d just call me Eurydice at home a lot, just to piss him off which was funny.”

Angus hummed, paying attention to her words, but having to bite his tongue to keep himself grounded from losing himself within her touch. “What’s she like in the story?”

“Not much to her.” She moved onto his other eye. “Well, what it gives us anyway. I always had my mom tell me their story, and Eurydice kept changing. It was always who I was like growing up.”

“Really?”

“Really. I was shy around the other kids when she first told me-.”

“-You, shy?”

“Shut up, I’ll mess up your eye if you make me laugh. But yeah, so Eurydice was quiet and shyer. Then, when I’m like nine, I’m a bit more outspoken, angrier even, so she became that.”

He didn’t move his head, scared that he’d mess her up. It was then, after she stopped speaking, he could feel her breath on his face. Her hand was still warm against his cheek, and he found himself leaning into it more and more. He had not felt this sense of peace since…he couldn’t recall.

“Done.”

With one word from her, she took her hand away and he opened his eyes. She was still so close to him, and while he saw her smiling at what he assumed had been her work, it was him staring at her that made it drop. Still, she didn’t look frightened nor upset, she was just…looking at him.

The moment his eyes dropped to her lips for only a second, it was all over.

He’d thought about it, of course. He wanted to. But…like with everything about her, he froze.

She didn’t.

“You…” She stood up from the bed, straightening the skirt of her dress. “you should probably wash that off after taking a look.”

Angus didn’t have time to respond before she grabbed her makeup bag and ran off. He just sat there, trying to process if he was waiting to wake up from a dream, or if it had been in fact real.

When nothing happened, he sighed heavily, getting up and walking towards the mirror. His eyes looked different, and he felt weird. He could not tell if it was from the makeup, her, or both. Still, what he did know, was that he made a fool of himself.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #paul hunham #the holdovers #mary lamb #Youtube

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wrathofrats · 5 months

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Mushy May Day 6- "you're blushing"- alpha and omega.

As usual thank u to @forlorn-crows for the prompts

And thanks to @ghuleh-recs for the divider!

No warnings apply, just 750 words of alpha and omega flirting (:

“Papa would never say that omega” alpha snorted

Omega chuckled to himself as he wiped the rim of a golden chalice with a cloth, setting it neatly in its place on the table.

“He did! Best guitar player in the entire ministry. Said he wouldn’t have wanted to summon anyone else”

Alpha set down the matching plate in his hands, giving omega a side glance. It was barely effective through the thick mask that adorned his face but he hoped omega had gotten the point anyways. He pulled the tablecloth free of any wrinkles as he took a look over the communion table one more time.

“Papa has threatened to send us back to the pits for spilling a drop of wine on his precious tablecloth, there’s absolutely no way he gave me a genuine compliment.” Alpha turned to stare at omega through his own mask, seeing as his eyes crinkle in what he can only assume to be a wide smile. “Besides, if you wanted to tell me how talented I am then you’re more than welcome to. No need to hide behind the excuse that papa said it”

Cleaning the chapel after mass was always a lackluster duty. Mostly sniffling from the dust that never seemed to dissipate, and making sure everything was to the ministry’s high standards of organization. It was always alpha and omega who were forced to stay an extra hour or two to wipe everything down and put things back in their places. The roles of being the right hand men of papa would be nice with their high ranking, but more often than not it meant they were sent to do boring monotonous tasks together that papa had deemed important.

“Oh I never need an excuse to compliment you, just don’t know if you can handle it” omega teased. A goading tone to his voice.

“You don’t affect me as much as you think you do, you’re only fueling my ego. But if that’s your intention then please do go ahead”

Omega stood to lean against the podium, an almost challenging look in his eye, practically asking if alpha truly meant what he said. It was a stupid stand off admittedly, more for alpha to metaphorically flex his muscles and stroke his ego than it was to really prove omega words couldn’t get to him. Or if it was purely for alpha to hear omegas sweet thoughts about him, then that was his business.

“Have I really never told you how talented I think you are? That you continue to impress me with how fast you learn the songs?” Omega said, crossing his arms in front of him

“Yeah I’m sure you do” alpha rolled his eyes, “probably because if I didn’t papa would have my head, we can’t all be favorites around here”

“You’re my favorite if it’s worth anything”

Alpha tried to look like that didn’t immediately make his chest constrict. A stupid tight feeling that he got whenever omega acted like he did like him beyond their stupid jokes and banter.

“Well I’d hope so. We are together constantly, didn’t think it would be earth or something” alpha played off like he expected that kind of answer.

“I just think that under your massive ego you’re actually really kind, I know how gentle you actually are alpha” omegas voice softened in a genuine, comforting way. He stepped away from the podium, instead making his way slowly towards alpha, who seemed to fumble at watching omega step towards him.

“Just not a complete evil bastard, is that so hard to believe?”

“I mean it’s not hard for me to believe at all, you’ve always been a sweetheart, to me at least.”

Alpha fiddled with the cloth under his hands as he tried from some leverage on the table. His eyes darted around, a horrible attempt at looking inconspicuous while also not looking omega in the eye.

“And that’s not even all of it. You’re so handsome under that mask, it’s such a shame papa makes us wear them all the time, would love to actually look at you while we work”

“Shut up” alpha choked

“Why? Are you blushing? You seem really flustered” omega chuckled, continuing to move forwards while alpha tried to subtly move backwards.

“I’m not blushing you asshole”

“Oh really? How about you take off the mask then”

“You just want to see my face since you love it so much” alpha tried to play off. He turned his face towards the floor, even the idea of omega seeing his eyes was more than a bit overwhelming as his face heated.

“Maybe I just want to see you blush for me”

#mushy may #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes #alpha ghoul #omega ghoul #mushy may 2024

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mswyrr · 11 months

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THG is the only pop culture story I can think of where the heroes (Katniss and Peeta) are disabled* and their happy ending doesn't require that they be "fixed" in order to be happy. IMO, part of why there's such controversy over the ending of the books in particular is that Collins wrote the pov of Katniss as a woman who is content and loves her life and her spouse and kids, but she's still very clearly mentally ill (and arguably somewhere on the spectrum). She has coping strategies and her life is good, but she will never be "normal" and Collins doesn't let the audience think that.

The one part, where she talks about how she handles the darker days, when she's really struggling, never fails to move me:

I’ll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I’m afraid it could be taken away. That’s when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do. It’s like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years. But there are much worse games to play. (Mockingjay, 332)

It's hard to express how important that is to me. Someone doesn't have to be "normal" to lead a good life. Someone doesn't have to be "normal" to have a life worth living, to give and receive love in good ways.

And, so, when people look at the villain in the prequel and say "he's just crazy, that's why he's evil. He's just a psycho, he's nuts," it's so out of place, it's so dissonant to me -- I think that's absolutely not the kind of story Collins would tell, given her prior handling of disability.

I don't think she's suddenly turned into a Victorian writer where you can know someone is evil because they're disabled because the writer thinks disabled people are warped creatures incapable of doing anything but bringing evil into the world. And the way people assert this, as if it's the pure, wholesome, most politically advanced reading of the prequel, is just - it doesn't compute for me. I don't understand how people get there.

I studied (for years) the treatment of mentally ill people in the mid-20th Century US. It was horrific. US forced sterilization and eugenics laws actually inspired N/azi Germany's forced sterilization, eugenics, and mass murder campaigns against mentally ill and disabled people. Nice, normal people have repeatedly convinced themselves that torturing and killing disabled people is how they will "purify" their society - they've done great evil in the name of rooting out the people evil is supposedly located within biologically.

Is it so hard to believe that people with normal brains do evil? Is it truly so impossible? Even in a story where the Games are about how a lot of people, the majority of whom are neurotypical, can be brought, via media presentation and entertainment techniques, into taking pleasure in their participation in evil? It's so hard to fathom that evil can't simply be located in someone being "psycho"?

Ballad already has Dr Gaul, who is evil and clearly neurodivergent. If Snow is too then the message starts to get kind of worrying? IMO, Coriolanus is more effective as a kind of “everyman” as an 18 year old - an example of the incentive structures (rewards and punishments) and propaganda that motivate “normal” people to go along. Of course, he will later become something far worse than that, someone who takes control of this thing, who uses his intimate knowledge of it and his insight into other “normal” people to make it worse, but that’s not the part of his life we see the most of. The part the book focuses on provides what I consider a powerful depiction of how ordinary people are acculturated into corrupt societies.

It's fiction so there's all kinds of interpretations that the text can support and exploring those is good. It's a stronger text because it has ambiguities and can be interpreted more than one way. But the intensity of some of the rhetoric is an unsettling contrast to what I've thought, for over a decade, Collins' themes and pov are as a writer.

*Shame on the films for removing Peeta's physical disability, though; in the books he lost a leg during their first Games

#thg meta #my meta #i'm gonna try to leave it at this now - i don't want to keep letting this bother me so much #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #maybe Coriolanus Snow is the evil neurotypical representation we need lol #i'm going to unsubscribe from the reddit i think #that is where i am seeing a lot of this #and it's just not worth it

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bootleg-nessie · 5 months

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Rating the Accuracy of Animal Names:

(I keep updating this list so check back later)

Marine Iguana: 1/10. They don’t allow lizards in the military

Honey Badger: 1/10. It’s not even made out of honey

Horny toad: 0/10. First of all, this is a lizard. Second of all, I couldn’t find one that was willing to have sex with me so they must not actually be all that horny

Crabeater seal: 1/10. They don’t even eat crabs. Felt uncomfortable asking about the other kind but I’d guess probably not those either

Comb jellyfish: 4/10. Doesn’t even have hair

Hammerhead shark: 10/10. Stop killing hammerhead sharks to make hammers

Paper nautilus: 1/10. Paper would get too soggy

Red Panda: 2/10. Not a panda. More orange than red

Jellyfish: 0/10. Not even a fish, but if it were, jelly would be one of the worst things to be made out of

Electric eel: 5/10. Not an eel. Shocking, I know

Blue footed booby: 2/10. My disappointment is immeasurable. Turns out this lying sack of shit is a just a stupid BIRD

Spiny lumpsucker: 8/10. Apparently this fish is named because it has spines AND a suction cup, not because it sucks on spiny lumps

Pleasing fungus beetle: 2/10. Why would fungus be pleased by a beetle eating it? It just worked so hard to grow

Chicken turtle: 1/10. This is just a regular turtle, there are no chickens involved

Red lipped batfish: 8/10. Not a bat. Does have red lips. Also looks incredibly sexy with that makeup on

Aye aye: 10/10. Does in fact, have two eyes

Blobfish: 10/10 out of water, 1/10 in water. The blobfish gets a bad rap, it only looks like a blob because some dickhead pulled it out of its natural habitat at the bottom of the fucking ocean. You’d look pretty weird if you switched places with them too

Dik dik: 5/10 if male, 0/10 if female. This one’s pretty self explanatory

Mountain chicken: 0/10. THIS IS A FUCKING FROG. STOP NAMING ANIMALS AFTER CHICKENS!

Peacock: 0/10. It pees out of a cloaca, not a cock. Technically it doesn’t even pee either

Monarch butterfly 1/10. They aren’t even one of the species of insects that has a queen, let alone understands the concept of monarchism

Cockatiel: 0/10. They do not have teal cocks

Monkey slug caterpillars: 1/10. These are neither slugs nor monkeys, nor are they some kind of fucked up monkey/slug hybrid. Terrible name all around, the only part they got right was caterpillar

Robin: 5/10. It’s a shame this bird has to resort to thievery but we all have to put worms on the table somehow

Alligator snapping turtle: 1/10. This is not an alligator, nor does it even have the fingers to snap with

Ground squirrel: 5/10. Please don’t grind squirrels

Axolotl: 0/10. Doesn’t ask a lot. Doesn’t ask anything at all

Sea robin: 7/10 This is what happens when the land robin goes pro. This creepy fuck evolved little fingers just to steal things. Is this where fish fingers come from?

Tasmanian devil: 8/10. Much like the christian devil, cool name and way more chill than most people give them credit for. Statistically speaking, they’re far from the deadliest player on the board, but they do have the strongest bite force and won’t hesitate to use it if provoked

Water deer: 7/10. No. This is a meat deer

Star nosed mole: 7/10. Name is somewhat misleading, nose merely star shaped, and not a mass of incandescent gas, a gigantic nuclear furnace

Paddlefish: 3/10. Too narrow to effectively be used as a paddle

Shoebill stork: 1/10. Not made of real shoes. Doesn’t pay bills either

Great white shark: 8/10. I’m inclined to agree for the most part but who came up with the name, David Duke?

Bioko drill: 0/10. At least the hammerhead shark looks like a hammer, this stupid monkey doesn’t even remotely resemble a drill

Hippo Tang: 0/10. That’s a fish, and hippos don’t even drink Tang

Bluejay: 3/10. Not actually blue, it’s just a trick of the light. I bet their real name probably isn’t even Jay either

Satanic Nightjar: 4/10. Should be called “slightly evil looking bird” instead

Tarantula hawk wasp: 1/10. Not a tarantula. Not a hawk. Starting to question if it’s even a wasp

Goblin shark: 10/10? Ever seen their jaw move? They sure are gobblin’

Nudibranch: 5/10. The nude part is accurate but it’s a sea slug, not a tree branch. Not even sure how you could possibly make that mistake

Mongoose: 0/10. No mon, it’s not a goose

Bison: 7/10. I just googled it, bison have more gay sex than straight sex so calling them bi is actually pretty accurate. Points removed because there are bidaughters too

Ram: 10/10. They sure do!

Mandrill: 2/10. They could probably be taught to use drills but I couldn’t find any research on this

Silver fox: 1/10. Silver is way too heavy of an element for an animal to be made of

Mayfly: 9/10 Yeah, they might

Fin whale: 10/10. Yep, whales have fins. Glad we cleared that up

Macaroni penguin: 1/10. They don’t eat macaroni

Horseshoe crab: 0/10. Not a crab. Doesn’t wear horseshoes either

Fangtooth: 10/10. Objectively I have to give it a 10 but this is the stupidest fucking name on the whole list. What’s next, knucklefist? Titboob?

Milkfish 1/10. If I go to your house and you offer me fish milk I’m fucking leaving

Little penguin: 10/10. Telling it exactly like it is

Spider monkey: 1/10. Was expecting a monkey with 8 limbs. Let down once again

Glass frog: 2/10. Not actually made out of glass

Hummingbird: 1/10. They can’t even hum

Centipede: 3-35.4/10. Depends on the species, very few actually have 100 legs

Millipede: 0.8-8/10. They have 800 legs at the most

Sockeye salmon: 1/10. Socks would make terrible eyes

Furry lobster: 10/10, 11/10 if that’s a fursuit

Flying fish: 4/10. Merely glides

Sailfish: 3/10. Doesn’t actually know how to sail

Blanket octopus: 2/10. Octopuses make terrible blankets

Cane Toad: 2/10. Can walk just fine without a cane

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chirpsythismorning · 9 months

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Surfer Boy number update!

Now when you call, the recording comes instantly saying ‘the phone number you just dialed is available. 2499.’ And then cuts off.

Initially, I thought this meant that Netflix just stopped paying to use the number for promotional purposes and so now it’s available for someone to use, and I’m still partially leaning towards that.

However, there are a few things that intrigue me about this.

For one, all the other numbers ST used up to this point remain active, despite them all arguably being well past their need for use.

Murray’s number is still active, despite it being revealed way back in 2019 when s3 premiered and it appeared on the show, with the message still being him on his answering machine, hinting at the s4 plot. And Yuri’s fish fry is also still active, which is another number used for s4 promo sometime in early 2021.

Then there’s the number that appeared in s4 when the Cali gang called Nina, which currently still has the war games sound effect when you call.

The surfer boy number on the otherhand, was revealed in late 2021, which is when the surfer boy van made its first appearance in the Cali teaser that dropped. And for a very short time after that, the message was a birthday jingle, only for it to switch to Argyle explaining the ingredients of pineapple pizza (using colors of the rainbow). And now this.

So apparently it’s important enough to warrant them changing it several times, which in and of itself is a contrast from the others that were revealed and just stayed how they are. Not to mention, the fact that they used it for a birthdaygate Easter egg potentially, reads to me like this number is very much on their radar and it’s unlikely they would just throw it aside.

What confounds me most though about the surfer boy number presumably being dropped for promo while the others weren’t, is that the surfer boy number actually has a lot more longevity to be acknowledged in the narrative, with the van likely making a return in s5.

And not only do we see it repeatedly in s4 whenever the van appears, but the van is also used heavily in merchandise that is still coming out.

So wouldn’t you think out of all the numbers, this is the one they would want to keep active given that fans are still being reminded of it? Wouldn’t it be weird to distribute surfer boy van merch en masse, knowing the number would be called by people curious there’s an Easter egg waiting on the other end of the line? Because that’s generally been the trend up to this point?

Another thing about the message itself, is that I’ve never heard it before in everyday life? Most of the phone messages out there in the states are instantly recognizable to the average person who has spent time on the phone and they all go somewhere along the lines of disclosing that the number is unavailable, even when it’s not in use. The voice here also doesn’t resemble the usual voice you hear whenever you call a number that’s not in use.

It’s honestly also odd to hear a message say that a number is available, because that’s something I’ve personally never encountered. I even tried to look up on it to see if this message is common and maybe I’m just out of the loop, but every search led me to results saying the most common message is to say that a number is unavailable, again even when it is available for use.

And lastly, the most odd part of this new message is the four numbers at the end unprompted.

2499

The only connection I could find to this number is that it appears to be a slight mix up of the last four digits of the surfer boy number.

Original number: 805-45-PIZZA aka 805-457-4992

So is 2499 some sort of acknowledgement of the number itself? And if so, why wouldn’t it just be 4992? Why would it use those same exact numbers, but pull 2 from the end and put it at the front of the other three numbers? And then just end the message there?

It’s so odd to me.

While it could be nothing, I honestly don’t think it makes sense for Netflix to drop the Surfer Boy number altogether, given that they’re making the choice to not drop all the others. They could easily drop the previous ones and save some money if that’s the issue, but apparently it’s worth keeping them. And so why not keep the one that is still likely to be referenced going forward?

Regardless it’s likely that if Netflix still has access to the number, the message is bound to change again. So we’ll have to stay tuned for if and when that happens…

Edit: I FORGOT! There was another message for the Surfer Boy number, which preceded Argyle’s Pineapple pizza message. I only remembered after googling the number’s digits and coming across someone composing it. Still not sure what to make of it. Still so fucking odd…

youtube

#stranger things #surfer boy number #Easter egg #birthdaygate #st5 speculation #st5 theory #Youtube

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 1 month

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Thank you for answering my Origins Dragon!Marinette and Turtle!Adrien question! Please don’t worry about disagreeing with the idea; I asked for YOUR opinion and analysis on why it would OR wouldn’t work, and that’s what I got. 😌 It also made me consider meta and in-show stuff that I hadn’t before, which is cool. You mentioned wanting all of the Kwamis to be part of some sort of set of two or more, and I’d love to hear what those sets are in your head going down the full Chinese Miracle Box list and why you’d pair them together with consideration towards both the Kwami themselves and their Powers.

(Post this ask is referring to)

Oh good, I'm glad that you found it useful and not discouraging!

Talking about how to pair the Kwamis is a little tricky because of an issue that I've discussed before. That issue being that the "Chinese" miracle box seems to be about as Chinese as fortune cookies. That makes me uncomfortable because - as far as I'm aware - the Chinese zodiac is a major part of Chinese beliefs and traditions. As such, I personally feel like the box should reflect those beliefs and traditions, but I also don't know those beliefs and traditions, so I can't tell you how I'd effectively group the zodiac Kwamis in order to honor their cultural origins. I can't even be sure if my criticism is valid or just me being overly cautious!

In an ideal world where I had money to invest in this sort of thing, I'd hire a cultural consultant to work with me to design a Chinese miracle box that feels Chinese (or to tell me that I'm overthinking this and to just do whatever I want). Assuming that I'm not overreacting, this would probably mean redesigning a lot of the powers and looks so that they honor Chinese lore and not Western lore.

For example, one thing that I know for sure is that black cats are not unlucky in China. They're actually symbols of good luck (all cats are), so a Chinese box would not have the implied good luck/bad luck thing that we get with Ladybug and Chat Noir. My limited research has also raised some doubts about ladybugs being a go-to symbol of good luck or creation in China, but I'm a lot less confident about that one being a bad choice as the association may exist. I couldn't find anything definitive one way or the other. This leads me to think that, if the association exists, then it's probably a bit obscure, meaning that a Chinese box would probably go with a different animal if we were trying to be culturally accurate to what a Chinese-inspired box would really look like.

I can say with reasonable certainty that Creation is associated with the masculine yang and Destruction is associated with the feminine yin, so Tikki should possibly feel masculine to feminine Plagg. At the very least, their spots in the miracle box should probably be reversed with Plagg in the black and Tikki in the white since yin is black and yang is white?

[Image Description: center of the original miracle box showing that ladybug earrings are placed in the black part of the yin yang symbol while the black cat ring is in the white]

I also known that white rabbits being associated with time, watches, and umbrellas comes from Alice in Wonderland and not China. Are you starting to see why I'm doubting the cultural accuracy of the miracle box?

The alternate way to approach this is to remove the possible issue of Chinese culture being treated as "mystical" or nothing more than ornamentation by making the Chinese miracle box into the miracle box of no specified culture. Since that's kind of what the box already is in terms of deeper meanings and cultural ties, I think we can go that route for this discussion since we have taken a moment to acknowledge the potential issues with the box's existing design and why that's leading me to take this route as - to me - this seems to be the only way to stick to canon's lore while avoiding potential further insults to Chinese culture.

If we went to my ideal extremes with this approach, we'd actually massively cut down the number of miraculous in the box because I think that there are way too many miraculous! Who needs nineteen "unique" powers to arm and fight one villain? This is extra true since there's no real theme to the miraculous beyond the initial setup of Creation/Destruction + five random powers followed by the addition twelve more random powers with no clear ties to any culture or theme other than the look of the Kwamis that grant the powers.

But that's getting real extreme, so for this ask, we won't go there. Instead, I'll talk about some general ideas for grouping the powers that we already have and some ideas for how you could fix the randomness of our current powers to make them feel like they make sense.

To start, I love the fact that our two main heroes are supposed to be a pair power wise. That's a lovely way to approach your lore and is why I think that they should have grouped the other miraculous, too. Why are Creation and Destruction the only set? Why aren't the others in any sort of group? Why do these miraculous have the powers they do? What ties them to this box and not another box?

There are a few ways to approach pairing the other miraculous. You can come at it from a theme perspective such as the fact that both the snake and the rabbit are all about time. You can also look for opposites such as the turtle being all about defense and the dragon being more about offense. You can even go more broad and say that a given group of miraculous is all aspects of one type of power such as the peacock, the goat, and the ladybug all feeling like aspects of creation. There's really no clear way to go about this because the current powers are so freaking random!

When I approach this stuff, I don't just come up with powers. I come up with the lore and let that help guide the powers or I shape the lore around the powers I want to use until both things make sense. For example, it makes sense that Creation would have some magical being guiding it. It also makes sense that Creation would either create Destruction for balance or that they both popped into existence together so that there was always a balance. Once you have that, you say, "Okay, what other Forces would these two want in order to help guide the universe? What can't they do or what do they do consistently enough that they might want to hand it off?"

Going from there, you start to come up with ideas like maybe they wanted Time to have a physical embodiment so that they could get some guidance on the long term effects of the things that they were making, so that's Fluff coming online. But Time is a lot and they liked their balance, so maybe Sass was brought online too in order to balance Fluff with Fluff being focused on what was and what could be while Sass is focused on what is, thereby giving Fluff someone to ground her. Or maybe you even add in a third Kwami to be some sort of historian who remembers the past while Fluff is the future and Sass is the now.

Another thought path is that most things are not pure Creation or pure Destruction. You must destroy to create. When you make bread, yeast consumes sugar to create air bubbles. Creation and Destruction working together. So maybe Tikki and Plagg wanted to make "children" who could do what they couldn't do solo and that's how we got the peacock?

No matter how you go about this, I really don't think that there's a great way to explain/group all nineteen miraculous, especially if you add in the eagle and Fei's wacky prodigious with it's animal abilities. It's just too random! But I do think that there's a lot of potential in strong subsets of the ones we get in canon, especially if you're allowed to edit the powers or the Forces a bit to make them fit their supposed Force or granted power better. I've talked before about how I'd mess with Lucky Charm to remove the odd Luck association and focus on Creation and that's what I'd do with most of the miraculous because, right now, most of them don't make much sense.

For example, Ziggy - the goat - is supposed to be the Kwami of Passion and that somehow gives the power to create anything you want? I know creatives are passionate, but that still doesn't fit in my mind. It would make more sense for this to be an inspiration power like the pig or for the Force to change to Creation and Ziggy is just a lesser ladybug for some reason? And Stompp - the Ox - is Determination, but I'd actually label his shield power as an aspect of Protection, making him in some sort of pairing with the turtle. Self defense verses defense of others?

In short, the canon lore is a disaster that needs major work to feel solid which leads to lots of paths for fixing the mess. In my opinion, the best way to go about fixing it is to take the element that worked best - the Creation/Destruction pairing - and expand that out to make strong, logical lore for the other Kwamis and their associated powers. Lore that probably won't be rooted in any one culture because no culture seems to be a solid match for the lore that canon is using, which is only concerning because of the current obvious associations with China and that's not even touching on the whole Tibetan monks + Chinese culture issue. Go check out the post I linked at the start for my thoughts on that which basically sum up to, "I am not even remotely qualified to talk about this one, but it seems like a terrible idea."

(Once again, reminder that I'm not Chinese or otherwise deeply informed on Chinese culture. I'm just a person who tries her best to respect other cultures and the miracle box sets off a lot of warning bells for me. Those warning bells could always be a false positive, so you shouldn't take my thoughts as some sort of final say on this topic. Please feel free to look into this on your own and form your own opinions.

If you are Chinese or otherwise educated in these topics, then please feel free to reblog this or send an ask giving me some additional context as I really do love learning about this stuff, but it's near impossible to research! I spent a good hour talking to a local librarian trying to find books or articles in our library that talked about the Chinese zodiac from an academic perspective and we found nothing. I've got a few interlibrary loan requests out to academic libraries in our library network though and I'll follow up on this if those books end up having information that adds to the discussion.)

#ml writing critical #ml writing salt #anon ask #lore discussion #I kept thinking I should bite the bullet and do more serious research on this topic since the box really does bother me #So thanks for getting me to finally do that anon!#There's a good chance that this will go nowhere though #I've heard elsewhere that it's really hard to research this kind of topic in the west #Most of the good resources supposedly come from China and are not translated #If they're even available in the west

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chapel-of-rizztual · 1 year

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👉👈 I'm coming with a humble prompt (ehm, again, eheh) - Plus-size / chubby Copia with tummy and all, being self-conscious, having a down time, and one of the ghouls (any of them) being absolutely obsessed with him? For being soft and hot and just yummy? If you'd be comfortable with this? Please and thank you 🖤 (Also I'm not projecting into anyone in this prompt.) (I might be projecting into both sides of this.)

It was a joke. A self deprecating one, but a joke non the less. And it had made the congregation at mass laugh, all be it an awkward laugh, but it was a laugh and Copia was taking that as a win.

Dew didn’t find it funny. If he’s being honest he didn’t really understand what Copia was trying to get at, he’d always viewed the man as some above godly creature, so to hear him say something so…low about himself made an uneasy feeling swirl in his belly.

Dew had waited until the end of mass, until all the ghouls and siblings had made their exit. He waited until Copia was alone at the alter, blowing out candles and clearing up the equipment from the mass.

He steps up to the alter, glad his mask hides his face because he knows he’s glaring. He clears his throat, making Copia jump and drop the ritual book he was holding.

“Shit!” He picks up the book, looking sheepishly at Dew. “Don’t tell anyone I dropped that, it’s super old, I'd get in so much trouble.”

Dew doesn’t respond, just tilts head to the side slightly. Copia doesn’t seem to notice Dew’s lack of response.

“I didn’t know anyone was still here, normally everyone runs off as soon as it’s over, I’m use to clearing up on my own-“

“Did you mean what you said? That…joke. Did you mean it?”

Copia looks at Dew with a stunned look on his face.

“I-I-uh, what? I-didn’t- I don’t know?” His cheeks are getting redder and redder the more he stutters.

“It’s not a trick question. Did. You. Mean. It?” Dew takes a step forward with word.

Copia looks scared as he places the heavy book back on the ritual alter.

“I mean-I guess?”

Dew tilts his head to the opposite as before, frowning behind his mask.

“Why?”

“I mean, look at me.” Copia gestures to himself.

Dew’s frown deepens, not that Copia can see behind his mask.

“I am looking. I don’t get what I am meant to be be seeing?”

Copia gestures to himself again.

“All of this. You don’t see it?”

Dew shakes his head, stepping even closer to the man.

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“This! All of this. Me!” Copia’s voice is louder then he expected, the sound echoing around the empty chapel. “Look at me. Look at this.” He grabs at his stomach through his robes. “This fat that just refuses to leave no matter what I do, in fact, it’s only getting worse! Nothing I do seem to works and I’m just getting…chubbier.” He breathes out.

Dew was even more confused then before. Of course he knew Copia was a little rounder in areas, he’d seen him naked often enough to know, but he’d never thought it could anything bad. He’d always like how soft Copia’s body felt against the sharpness of his own, he liked how warm his skin felt under his touch, how he always knew he effected the older man by seeing the flutter of his belly. He liked tracing the silvery lines that seemed to flow down Copia’s body like little rivers. He never thought these things could be considered bad, he always just viewed them as a part of who Copia was.

He takes another step forward towards Copia.

“And that is…bad?”

“Of course it’s bad!” Copia exclaims, his hands flying out. “I wish-I wish I could look like my brother’s, more muscular, slimmer, more angular, but unfortunately I don’t! I’m stuck looking like this. No matter what I do I’ll always look like this, and I-hmmmugh-“

At some point during copias rant Dew had taken his helmet off, discarding it somewhere on the floor, and cut the man off by forcing their lips together.

Dew kisses him like he’s starved, pushing him backwards until his back hits the alter. He squeezes at Copias chin, forcing his jaw open and pushed his tongue into his mouth. Copia squeaks as he does, gripping onto Dew’s shoulders for dear life.

Dew pulls away, a string of saliva connects their lips. “Needed to shut you up.” He pulls him back for another searing kiss before Copia can even respond.

Dew manages to undo the buttons on Copias robe without him realising until it’s being pushing off his shoulders and onto the floor, leaving Copia stood there in his dress shirt and pants. Copia pulls away from the kiss this time with a squeak as Dew works the buttons of his shirt open.

“I-what? What are you doing?”

Dew shushes him, pulling his shirt off and letting it fall into a pile onto of his robes. “I don’t need to you speak.” He drops to his knees in between Copia’s legs. “Just need you to listen.”

He tries working the pants open, growling as the zip gets stuck. He ends up using his claws, shredding the fabric easily, leaving Copia standing before him, panting, in just his boxers.

“Dew, what-“ Copia gets cut off by his breath hitching as Dew licks a long up the inside of his thigh. “I can’t listen to you comparing yourself to your brother.” He bites down at the flesh at the top of Copia’s thigh. “Especially when you’re so perfect.”

Copia moans, unable to stop his hips bucking a little. He leans back against the alter more for support.

Dew grabs at his hips, kneading at the flesh, pulling Copia more towards him. “You don’t see how perfect you are, just as you are.” He sits up more, tracing a stretch mark on Copia’s belly with his touch. He feels him flutter under his touch, trying to keep his breathing even. “Let me show you.” He looks up at Copia. “Let me show you how perfect you are, how much we all love you, how much I love you.”

Copia whimpers, grabbing at one of Dews horns to try and pull him away.

“Dew, you don’t- I don’t need you to do that.”

Dew nips at his belly with a growl, his ears flatting against his head.

“This is a place of worship, isn’t it?” He gestures around the room. Copia nods a little nervously, feeling his heart pick up.

“So let me worship you.”

#thank you for the ask! 💕#ficlet #the band ghost #ghost headcanons #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #papa emeritus iv #my writing

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fourthwingfan · 7 months

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Madness - Chapter 8

Hello, hello dear readers. The new chapter is here, the longest so far. I hope you'll enjoy it :)

„There is an art to poison not often discussed, and that is timing. Only a master can properly dose and administer for effective onset. One must take into account the mass of the individual as well as the method of delivery.

—Effective Uses of Wild and Cultivated Herbs

by Captain Lawrence Medina”

The women’s hall is quiet as I dress for the morning, the sun barely peeking above the horizon in the far windows. I take the dragon-scale vest from where I left it to dry on the hanger at the end of my bed and slip it on over my short-sleeve black shirt. It’s a good thing I’ve gotten pretty adept at tightening the laces behind my back, since Violet isn’t in her bed. She had to get up earlier than the others. She’s on breakfast duty. And she chose it herself. I would think she’s a masochist if I didn’t know the reason behind it. Two words. Challenges. Poison.

I grab my bag on the way out, passing by rows of empty beds that belonged to the dozen women who haven’t survived to see August.

Time sure flies. And I’m incredibly lucky that after the talk with the General in his office, he had to go to the front. I didn’t have to report. It’s really a great luck because I haven’t figured out how to lie to him about the marked-ones.

With these thoughts I shove open the door.

And there he is.

“You didn’t tell me why you chose the library duty.” I greet the smiling Liam. He always at the door waiting for me in the mornings.

“Good morning to you too, Sunshine.” He laughs at me. “And I chose it because you’re my friend, and if I don’t go to the library then I would never see you after classes. It’s like you’re in love with the books. Or learning. I’m not sure yet.”

“Haha, you’re funny. And don’t call me that either” I say grumpily as we made our way to the quadrant’s library. It’s not like the Archives where the scribes are. It only contains books what we learn at classes. History, dragons, past reports etc. Despite of that, I like our library, it’s cozy. And not crowded at all. It seems the Riders don’t have time to read.

“And why did you chose the library?” Liam asks as we enter the library. “You’re always here after classes and I don’t understand why you’d want to come here so early in the morning.”

“What if I just love books?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. The only reason I chose the library duty is because we’ve got the keys to open it at the start of the day, and to close it before curfew.

“No, you don’t.” He shakes his head.

“What? How do you know?” I ask him curiously.

“You always look angry when you’re reading or writing an essay. It’s like books are you’re nemesis.” He says with a surprising insight.

I should have known. Liam is very observant, since our first day. He always points out what I try to hide. Only because he cares about me, not with bad intentions. And because of that I find myself opening up to him. I told him a lot of things about me. Things that only Violet knew. I really appreciate our friendship. He’s the kindest man whom I ever met. And I feel bad about his parents, even though he won’t speak about them. After all it was my father who killed them.

“I just like to be left alone.” I try to share some truth with him. “Not many people come here.”

I go to the closet beside the wall, near the entrance and pick up a broom. “Do you got the books?” I nod toward the piles of books which was brought back by the cadets and riders sometime yesterday.

“Yes, that’s true. But I think it’s only part of it.” He picks up the first book. “I don’t want to pry but I have eyes. You hate books. You take notes without looking what you write. I did not once see you put back a book in it’s place since we started this thing. You can tell me anything, but only if you want. If you’re not comfortable then just forget it.”

Shit. What should I do? He almost figured it out. If I tell him my secret will he changes toward me? I don’t want that. But if he finds out without me telling him, would it be better? No. I don’t think so.

Then I just have to prepare for the worst.

“It’s a long story.” I say while I walk to the chair beside the desk he currently sorting books. “You really want to know?” I sit and look at him with a serious gaze.

“Yes. I like you, you’re a good person. I want to know because if I can, then I want to help you.” He sits in front of the desk and turns to me.

“I have dyslexia.” I stare my hand without looking up. “When I was born…my mother…” I try to explain but I can’t. I didn’t even knew her but it still hurts to think about it.

He grips my hand and when I look up he smiles reassuringly.

“There was certain circumstances which caused brain damage due to lack of oxygen.” I say in a rush lest I change my mind. “I’m normal in every other aspect, I think. It’s just that my mind works differently then others. In most situations I have good memory so it’s not that bad, but when it comes for example history then I need to learn. Or if I see a map then I should be able to read the names on it, but… But I can’t read, only with great effort. It’s really difficult. It’s like the letters are running away from me. I know which letter is which, but when I try to put into words it’ll become nothing. It’s really tiring. I’m useless, I know. And I understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.” I draw back my hand to let him go.

“Aelin. Look at me.” He says quietly.

I look up at him and only see understanding in his eyes.

The air rushes out of my lungs.

“First, you’re not useless! You’re a very kind and protective woman. You’re really amazing and do not forget that! It doesn’t matter if you can read a whole book within an hour or not. It doesn’t define who you are. I don’t know who said that shit to you, but it’s not true.” He says firmly and my eyes are stinging. “You’re very precious to me. And I find it amazing that despite of your struggle you’re here as you are. You’re smart. If you struggle a little then what? Nobody is perfect. Me neither. And if I can help you with anything, even if you only need me to read out loud the books then I will help you. Because we’re friends.”

I swallow hard and try to blink back the tears. Nobody said things like this to me. And here we are. A marked-one and General Melgren’s daughter. And despite of the circumstances he became my best friend beside Violet. Because he wanted to.

“Liam…” I start but my voice breaks. I feel that if I say a thing then I will cry. Instead I smile at him. With real, genuine smile. With all the warm that I can muster up. I want him to know that I really appreciate his words. Him.

“Now come. We need to tidy up here before breakfast.” He lets go my hand and stands up. But I know he understood what I couldn’t say. He understand me.

“Yeah” I say in a raspy voice. “Don’t slack off.”

He just laughs and it seems that the library is brigther then minutes ago.

***

„Keep the temperaments of each specific breed in mind when you decide which dragons to approach and which to run from at Threshing,” Professor Kaori says, his serious, dark eyes slashing toward his nose as he studies the new recruits for a beat, then he changes the projection he’s conjured from a Green Daggertail to a Red Scorpiontail. He’s an illusionist and the only professor in the quadrant with the signet ability to project what he sees in his mind, which makes this class one of my favorites.

The Red Scorpiontail in the center of our circled tables is a fraction of its actual size, six feet tall at most, but it’s an exact replica of the actual firebreather waiting in the Vale for Threshing.

“Red Scorpiontails, like Ghrian here, are the quickest to temper,” Professor Kaori continues, his perfectly trimmed mustache curving as he smiles at the illusion like he’s the dragon himself. We all take notes. “So if you offend him, you’re—”

“Lunch,” Ridoc says, and the class laughs. We have a common class with Violet’s squad and unfortunately Jack Barlowe is here too, who hasn’t quit glaring at Violet since his squad took over their quarter of the room a half hour ago.

“Precisely,” Professor Kaori responds. “So what’s the best way to approach a Red Scorpiontail?” He glances around the room.

I know the answer, but I keep my hand to myself to lay low as always.

“You don’t,” Liam mutters next to me, and I huff a laugh under my breath.

“They prefer that you approach from the left and from the front, if possible,” a woman from our squad answers.

“Excellent.” Professor Kaori nods. “For this Threshing, there are three Red Scorpiontails willing to bond.” The image changes in front of us to a different dragon.

“How many dragons are there in total?” Rhiannon asks.

“A hundred for this year,” Professor Kaori answers, changing the image again. “But some might change their minds during Presentation in about two months, depending on what they see.”

My stomach hits the floor.

“That’s thirty-seven fewer than last year.” Violet says.

Maybe even fewer if they don’t like the look of us after we have to parade by them for their perusal two days before Threshing. Then again, there’s usually fewer cadets after that particular event anyway.

Professor Kaori’s dark eyebrows rise. “Yes, Cadet Sorrengail, it is, and twenty-six fewer than the year before that.”

Fewer dragons are choosing to bond, but the number of riders entering the quadrant has remained steady. My mind whirls. Attacks at the eastern borders are increasing, according to every Battle Brief, and yet there are fewer dragons willing to bond in order to defend Navarre.

“Will they tell you why they won’t bond?” another first-year asks.

“No, jackass,” Jack scoffs, his icy-blue gaze narrowing on the cadet. “Dragons only talk to their bonded riders, just like they only give their full name to their bonded rider. You should know that by now.”

Professor Kaori sends Jack a look that shuts the first-year’s mouth but doesn’t stop him from sneering at the other cadet. “They don’t share their reasons,” our instructor says. “And anyone who respects their life won’t ask a question they’re not willing to answer.”

“Do the numbers affect the wards?” Aurelie asks from where she sits behind Violet, tapping her quill against the edge of her desk.

Professor Kaori’s jaw ticks twice. “We’re not sure. The number of bonded dragons has never affected the integrity of Navarre’s wards before, but I’m not about to lie to you and say that we’re not seeing increased breaches when you know from Battle Brief that we are.”

The wards are faltering at a rate that makes my thoughts running wild with possible theories every time Professor Devera starts our daily Battle Brief. Either we’re weakening or our enemies are getting stronger. Both possibilities mean the cadets in this room are needed more than ever.

The image changes to Sgaeyl, the navy-blue dragon bonded to Xaden.

My stomach pitches as I remember the way she looked right through me that first day.

But despite of that I found her beautiful. That color and that confident stance.

“You won’t have to worry about how to approach blue dragons, since there are none willing to bond this Threshing, but you should be able to recognize Sgaeyl if you see her,” Professor Kaori says.

“So you can fucking run,” Ridoc drawls.

I nod along while others laugh.

“She’s a Blue Daggertail, the rarest of the blues, and yes, if you see her without her bonded rider, you should…definitely find somewhere else to be. Ruthless does not begin to describe her, nor does she abide by what we assume to be what the dragons consider law. She even bonded the relative of one of her previous riders, which you all know is typically forbidden, but Sgaeyl does whatever she wants, whenever she wants. In fact, if you see any of the blues, do not approach them. Just…”

“Run,” Ridoc repeats, raking his hand through his floppy brown hair.

“Run,” Professor Kaori agrees with a smile, the mustache above his top lip quivering slightly. “There are a handful of other blues in active service, but you’ll find them all along the Esben Mountains in the east, where the fighting is most intense. They’re all intimidating, but Sgaeyl is the most powerful of them all.”

My breath catches. No wonder Xaden can wield shadows—shadows that can yank daggers out of trees, shadows that can probably throw those same daggers. And yet…he let me live. I shove the kernel of warmth that thought gives me far, far away.

He was an asshole after all.

“What about the black dragon?” the first-year next to Jack asks. “There’s one here, right?”

Jack’s face lights up. “I want that one.”

“Not that it’s going to matter.” Professor Kaori flicks his wrist and Sgaeyl disappears, and a massive black dragon takes her place. Even the illusion is bigger, making me crane my neck slightly to see its head. “But just to appease your curiosity, since this is the only time you’ll ever see him, here is the only other black besides General Melgren’s.”

“He’s huge,” Rhiannon says. “And is that a clubtail?”

“No. A morningstartail. He has the same bludgeoning power of a clubtail, but those spikes will eviscerate a person just as well as a daggertail.”

“Best of both worlds,” Jack calls out. “He looks like a killing machine.”

“He is,” Professor Kaori answers. “And honestly, I haven’t seen him in the last five years, so this image is more than a little outdated. But since we have him up here, what can you tell me about black dragons?”

“They’re the smartest and most discerning,” Aurelie calls out.

“They’re the rarest,” I add in. “There hasn’t been one born in the last…century.”

“Correct.” Professor Kaori spins the illusion again, and I’m met with a pair of glaring yellow eyes. “They’re also the most cunning. There’s no such thing as outsmarting a black dragon. This one is a little over a hundred, which makes him about middle-aged. He’s revered as a battle dragon among their kind, and if not for him, we probably would have lost during the Tyrrish rebellion. Add to it that he’s a morningstartail, and he’s one of the deadliest dragons in Navarre.”

„I bet he powers one hell of a signet. How do you approach him?” Jack asks, leaning forward in his seat. There’s pure avarice in his eyes, mirrored by his friend next to him.

That’s the last thing this kingdom needs, someone as cruel as Jack bonding to a black dragon. No, thank you.

“You don’t,” Professor Kaori answers. “He hasn’t agreed to bond since his previous and only rider was killed during the uprising, and the only way you’d ever be near him is if you’re in the Vale, which you won’t be, because you’d be incinerated before you ever got through the gorge.”

The pale redhead across the circle from me shifts in her seat and tugs her sleeve down to cover her rebellion relic.

“Someone should ask him again,” Jack urges.

“It doesn’t work that way, Barlowe. Now, there is only one other black dragon, which is in service—”

“General Melgren’s,” Sawyer says. His book is closed in front of him, but I can’t blame him. I’d hardly be taking notes, either, if this was the second time I’d gone through this class. “Codagh, right?”

Everyone looks at me with curiosity in their eyes. Shit. What do they think? I won’t tell stories about him. Never.

They say the dragon chooses their rider based on things that makes them a great match. In this case they’re both cruel. They deserve each other, I shudder.

“Yes.” Professor Kaori nods. “The eldest of their den and a swordtail.”

“But just for curiosity’s sake.” Jack’s glacial-blue gaze doesn’t stray from the illusion of the unbonded black dragon still being projected. “What signet ability would this guy gift his rider?”

Professor Kaori closes his fist, and the illusion disappears. “There’s no telling. Signets are the result of the unique chemistry between rider and dragon and usually say more about the rider than the dragon. The stronger the bond and the more powerful the dragon, the stronger the signet.”

“Fine. What was his previous rider’s?” Jack asks.

“Naolin’s signet was siphoning.” Professor Kaori’s shoulders fall. “He could absorb power from various sources, other dragons, other riders, and then use it or redistribute it.”

“Badass.” Ridoc’s tone has more than a little hero worship.

“He was,” Professor Kaori agrees.

“What kills someone with that kind of signet?” Jack asks, crossing his arms over his thick chest.

Professor Kaori glances at Violet for a heartbeat before looking away. “He attempted to use that power to revive a fallen rider—which didn’t work, because there’s no signet capable of resurrection—and depleted himself in the process. To use a phrase you’ll become accustomed to after Threshing, he burned out and died next to that rider.”

Something in my chest shifts, a feeling that I can’t explain and yet can’t shake.

The bells ring, signaling the hour is up, and we all begin to gather our things. The squads filter out to the hallway, emptying the room, and I rise from behind my desk and go to stand beside Violet, shouldering my satchel as Liam waits for me by the door, a puzzled expression on his face.

“It was Brennan, wasn’t it?” Violet asks Professor Kaori.

Sadness fills his gaze as he meets hers. “Yes. He died trying to save your brother, but Brennan was too far gone.”

“Why would he do that?” She shifts the weight of her satchel. „Resurrection isn’t possible. Why would he essentially kill himself when Brennan was already gone?”

A stampede of grief tramples my heart, stealing my breath. Brennan never would have wanted anyone to die for him. That wasn’t in his nature.

Professor Kaori sits back against his desk, pulling at the short, dark hairs of his mustache as he stares at us. “Being a Sorrengail and Melgren doesn’t do you any favors in here, does it?”

I shake my head. “There are more than a few cadets who would like to take me—and my last name—down a peg.”

He nods. “It won’t be like that once you leave. After graduation, you’ll find that being who you are means others will do just about anything to keep you alive, even pleased, not because they love your mother or father but because they either fear them or want their favor.”

“Which was Naolin?”

“A little bit of both. And sometimes it’s hard for a rider with a signet that powerful to accept his limits. After all, bonding makes you a rider, but resurrecting someone from the dead? Now, that makes you a god. I somehow don’t think that Malek takes kindly to a mortal treading on his territory.”

“Thank you for answering.” Violet turns and starts toward the door, I follow her.

“Violet,” Professor Kaori calls out, and I pivot to look back. “I taught both your siblings. A signet like mine is too useful here in the classroom to let me deploy with a wing for long. Brennan was a spectacular rider and a good man. Mira is shrewd and gifted in the seat when it comes to riding.”

She nods.

“But you’re smarter than both of them.”

She blinks. It’s not often she gets compared to her brother and sister and somehow come out on top.

“From what I’ve seen of you helping your friend study in commons every night, it seems you might be more compassionate, too. Don’t forget that.”

“Thank you, but being smart and compassionate isn’t going to help me when it comes to Threshing.” A self-deprecating laugh escapes her mouth. “You know more about dragons than anyone else in the quadrant, probably anyone else on the Continent. They choose strength and shrewdness.”

“They choose for reasons they don’t see fit to share with us.” He pushes off his desk. “And not all strength is physical, Violet.”

She nods, and we head over to meet Rhiannon and Liam at the door.

“See? I told you that you’re the smartest person I know.” I grin at her. “And if anybody will bond with a strong dragon at Threshing then you will be the one.”

“You’re just saying that to comfort me.” She sighs.

“No, Vi. I say it because I belive in you.” I grab her arm and look into her eyes. “You’re smart, persistent and a good person. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

“Okay, I try.” She gives in.

“Good. Now see you later at the gym.” I wink at her and go grab Liam’s arm.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late.” I laugh at him.

“Again.” He mutters.

***

I’m so nervous for Violet’s challenge I thought as I stand and watch Liam beat the ever-loving shit out of his opponent. It’s a guy from Second Wing, and it takes almost no time for him to get the guy into a headlock, cutting off his air supply.

He’s really good. I cross my arms across my chest. I’m stripped down to the dragon-scale vest that’s starting to feel like a second skin and my fighting leathers. All four of my daggers are sheathed, and if everything goes correctly, I’ll have one more to add to my collection soon.

The Second Wing first-year passes out, and Liam rises victorious as we clap. Then he leans over his opponent and removes the dagger at his side. “Looks like this is mine now. Enjoy your nap.” He pats him on the head, which makes me laugh. Maybe I’m a bad influence to him.

I hear a shout behind me and I turn around.

Wow. Jack Barlowe stands near the wall and two daggers are etched into the wall. One near his ear and the other near his balls.

That must be Violet. So she took Xaden’s advice. I’m…glad.

There’s no ignoring the prickle at my scalp, and I let my gaze shift to see Xaden watching Violet.

My heart does that damn stuttering thing again, as if he’d sent shadows straight through my ribs to squeeze the organ. He lifts his scarred brow, and he walks toward the door, but before he can disappear he looks at me and I swear there’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he leaves.

That’s strange. It’s just me or he sends mixed signals? I thought he liked Violet but maybe he didn’t?

I don’t have much time to ponder on these thoughts.

„Melgren.” Professor Emetterio glances at his notebook and raises one bushy black brow before continuing. “Cardulo.”

Oh man, it will be a good fight. I grin as I step onto the mat opposite Imogen who glares daggers at me.

“You were just lucky last time.” She says as we start circling each other “And I will show everyone that you’re just a weakling.”

“Sweetie, I wasn’t lucky I’m simply that good.” I laugh at her.

She charges at me with raised fists and intends to punch me in the face but I quickly block it with my arms. I swing my right arm to land a hit on her side but she swiftly moves sideways and avoid it.

Hm, she’s not bad either. We exchange several blows, each one is faster than the one before. It’s like a well balanced dance, and we wait to see who will make the first mistake.

And there it is.

She charges at me again but her footwork is a little sloppy. I took advantage of it and kick out her legs.

She falls on the mat and I quickly try to secure her legs while punching wherever I can but she blocks almost every hit.

With a move I can’t see with her leg she reverses our positions and now my back is against the mat.

She lands a blow on my jaw and for a moment I see stars. Shit, she’s strong.

While I try to blink out the darkness she lands another punch at my ribs and grabs my hair to slam my head into the mat.

“I told you that you were lucky.” She mocks me. “You’re actually useless, aren’t you?”

Useless? My world stops for a moment.

You’re useless. You can’t even do the simple things I asked from you. You’re an embarrassment. Do something right for once in your life.

Useless. Useless. Useless.

I’m going under deeper and deeper in my memories.

‘You’re very precious to me’ I hear a voice. That’s… what Liam said at the library in the morning. He’s my friend and he doesn’t think that I’m useless. Then… maybe I’m not?

With these thoughts I’m back in reality and that’s the moment when Imogen hit my nose and I hear the bone breaking.

There’s blood everywhere.

Fuck. She broke my nose. I feel my anger rising.

When she tries to hit me again I grab her arm and I pull it to the side with all my power.

She loses her balance and I push her on the mat. With a swift move I punch her in the face, and I hear a satisfing snapping sound.

Payback bitch. Now her nose is broken too.

We begin to struggle for the upper position, but it’s like our strength is matching.

We use elbows, fists, everything we can to gain an advantage over the other one, while collecting more bruises.

With an opening, I get her into a headlock and I stabilize myself against the mat. I cut off her air supply, now I just need to endure it.

She claws my hand, tosses her body, trying to break my hold on her, but I won’t let it.

“Yield.” I say in a raspy voice.

She starts to struggle with a renewd ferocity but in vain. Slowly she starts to lose strength, slowing down. She almost lost consciousness.

“She yields.” Professor Emetterio says.

I relase her and she starts coughing.

Serves you right bitch. I won.

I stand up and I extend my hand. She looks at me with surprise in her eyes.

“It was a good match.” I say in a hoarse voice.

She accepts my hand and I help her stand up.

I turn to Liam who smiling at me. “You were great Aelin.”

“Yeah, thanks. But I think I will go see a healer, somebody should fix my nose. I don’t want a crooked nose.” I whine.

“Then come, I will escort you there” he laughs outright.

As we made our way to the doors I see Violet and her opponent and that’s when he pukes all over the mat.

Good job, Vi. The poison is working.

***

Next week I win against a second-year man with a rebellion relic who challanged me because the General is my father. What a surprise.

The week after the next I win again, because my opponent was a first-year who almost cried when the Professor paired us up.

The next week I almost lost against a second-year. He was a really strong opponent but got too cocky and his moves became sloppy.

My fifth won dagger is from another first-year. To my surprise I was paired up with Rhiannon. That was a good match, she’s strong and smart. But I’m better than her. It’s a fact. After all I was taught by the General.

It’s my luck that he was still at the front. I’m terrified if I think about the first time when I will have to report him. I can feel that I can’t avoid it much longer.

And August is over.

Come early September I stand next to the mat to wait for my match.

Violet is on the mat and I search for her opponent. What will it be this time? She will be throwing up? She won’t see after a couple of minutes? She will lost her balance?

I’m really intriguied. She always uses different kind of poisons so it’s not that conspicuous.

„Sorry, Violet,” Professor Emetterio says, scratching his short black beard. “You were supposed to challenge Rayma, but she’s been taken to the healers because she can’t seem to walk in a straight line.”

“That’s too bad.” She winces. “But I’m fine without a match” she adds quickly.

The Professor nods then turns to me “And Aelin it seems you’re opponent is Rayma’s boyfriend and probably they shared their breakfast. Now they both at the Healrs Quadrant.”

“What?” I ask with surprise evident on my face. “Then who will be my opponent?”

„I’m happy to step in.” That voice. That tone. That prickle of ice along my scalp…

Oh no. Hell no. No. No. No.

“You sure?” Professor Emetterio asks, glancing over his shoulder.

“Absolutely.”

My stomach hits the floor.

And Xaden walks onto the mat.

Shit. I should’ve said that I’m fine without a match too.

#fanfiction #fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #liam mairi #the fourth wing #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #oc #the empyrean #xaden riorson x oc #xaden x oc

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

June - Part Six

Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

warnings | 18+ dark themes surrounding suicidal ideation and attempt, smut, angst, but also a whole lot of love to be had

........................

And leave me if I'm feeling too lonely

Full as the fruit on the vine

You know some girls are bright as the morning

And some have a dark turn of mind

"Dark Turn of Mind" by Gillian Welch

........................

“Thanks, kid.”

“You said the thick socks right? I wasn’t sure.”

“Yeah, these are good.”

“Is she doing okay?”

“I don’t know.” He doesn’t. He’s not sure if he wants to. Something ugly has settled in his skull. Not anger. Something that simmers lower, meaner. Hate might be the right word. He feels sick with it.

He hates that something as innocent as a bottle of expired aspirin, small, sitting in the bathroom cabinet, could make something this awful happen.

He hates that he had to do what he did. Had to get big and loud and quick, quick, quick with her. Overpowering, muscling her in his arms to keep her still, still, still.

He hates that she fought him until she didn’t. Snarling big, big, big, trying to wriggle back down to that deep, dark place he was pulling her out of. And then the blank wash across her face when she realized her own failure.

He hates that he knew exactly what to do. The feeling of her throat constricting around his fingers, her whole body a tight fist, and then the slackening of her heaves.

But maybe more than anything, he hates that he didn’t have a clue until the moment he walked into the bathroom. No signs, no warnings. Things were good, he knows it. Simple and so, so, so good. And she still wanted to leave so, so, so bad.

He hates all the things around her that he can. Lets it get big and bad in his brain, staring at the closed clinic door, knuckles flexing with each dark thought. He’d like to hate her too. It’d be so much easier. It’s why he hasn’t gone in yet. Because he knows the instant he sees her, this hate, this big, ugly something will dissolve into a simpering ache.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“No, kid. That’s alright. Thank you.”

He walks in alone. Cold white walls and cold bright lights and a sterile hand on his shoulder that he’d like to snap clean off.

She’s doing fine but–

Chronic and persistent–

May need to put in place a–

There isn’t much we can do.

Blink and nod, blink and nod. What is this world he has stepped into?

And then she’s there in a bed that crinkles white and it’s summer all over again and he needs to see her eyes open needs to get her awake for him, needs, needs, needs. And then she’s awake and she’s looking at him and he wants to scream and plunge his hands into his chest to pull out the crumpled mass of his heart wants to smear it all over these white walls so maybe she can understand what this hell he’s in is like. But he needs, needs, needs to stay calm needs to keep her with him.

So he’s careful. So, so careful. Kneeling down next to the bed that crinkles white and taking up one of her hands in his, so slack he can’t help the anxious squeezes he pulses through her fingers. And finally, he clears his throat of that sick souring so what he says to her can be simple, simple, simple.

“I thought things were good.”

“They were.”

“Do you know what this does to me?”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“Please, June.”

“I can go. This isn’t good for you.” I’m not good for you. Unblinking, cool and calculated in what she says. Like she’s done this before.

“I don’t think I could stand that.”

“You can’t stand this either, Joel.”

“No, I can’t.”

He finally realizes something. That night, they were out in that field for two very different reasons. His was an acute hopelessness, something that felt close to logic. But hers was old, calcified somewhere deep inside her. Something that may have even been there twenty years ago, before any of this. Something she said, a thread he tugs on now. I’d always been like that.

No cause, no effect. No problem he can hunt down and solve. Both freeing and damning in this revelation. Because she has a mind that makes leaving seem like a good idea. And he’s hellbent on making her stay.

“What do you want, June?” The question seems to shock her, eyes widening and lips parting. And then all at once, she folds up into a sob.

It’s hard to catch, the warbled slur of her words muffled over his bad ear where his face is pressed into her neck, holding her close, close, close. But he can still figure out that it’s a pleading chant of the same two words. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

…

“How long?”

“A long time.”

“How many?” “Too many.” There’s another question that hangs in his throat, one she seems to pull out of him without words.

“Someone needed me, so I stopped.”

“You don’t think I need you?”

“I’m scared that you do.”

“Why?”

“I’m no good, Joel.”

“I don’t believe that.” “You should.”

…

“How can I know?” “How can you know what?”

“How can I know when it’s getting like that again?”

“I’m not sure I even know that.”

“Try, please.”

“It happens fast. Something just clicks.”

“Will you tell me? When it clicks?”

“I’ll try.”

…

His back hurts. He’s been sleeping curled around her in the white bed that crinkles all week because the doctors wanted to make sure she was stable. And while there’s no scar he can see on her skin, he finds remnants in the drawn darkness of her face, the weak hum of her voice, and the perpetual fatigue that seems to hang heavy down her spine.

But she’s home now, moving like a faded ghost, careful and quiet, her cheek perpetually propped in her palm.

“Is it your back?” The pot is simmering on the stove, something warm, something rich, something that will stick. And she’s sitting at the kitchen table watching him make something warm, something rich, something that will stick.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not moving like you’re fine.”

“I’m fine, June.” Too much bite, his throat seizes with it.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Let’s eat.”

This, something he can control. This, something he can fix. Each mouthful, a relief.

“Can I help?” Palms open, outstretched. He could never say no. Sitting between her legs with his back against the couch, her hands smooth over his shoulders, generating quick heat. And then she digs, the small moons of her fingers finding all those tangles, taut, taut, taut. His head tips back with it, a pain that pulses perfectly, catch and release in the way her hands move over muscle.

It’s sudden, startling, something that cracks in his chest and shakes his shoulders. He only realizes he’s crying when she tilts his chin back to see the tears.

“Oh, Joel.” He’s been holding it all, every splintered piece. But now he lays himself at her feet in a crumbling heap. On his knees. He’s on his knees and pressing his face into the soft hollow of her stomach and he’s crying so hard he can barely get a breath in.

“Please, June.” Please, please, please. Over and over, his prayer to her. Something, anything. He’d take anything she might give him.

The careful sweep of her palm, coaxing his face out from her shirt, her thumbs a kind arc, catching the salt dripping down his cheeks. It’s overwhelming, the care she so easily gives him, and it just makes him cry harder because somehow that’s true at the same time everything else is. And she lets him. Cradles his head in her hand and pulls him closer as he cries and cries and cries until he’s not really sure what he’s crying about anymore.

When all that’s left is a shudder in his ribs, she slips off the couch to sit with him, chest to chest, faces tucked into the crooks of necks, arms wrapped tight, tight, tight.

“I’m here.” Words stamped into the curve of his throat, her lips an exultant thrum.

“Don’t go.”

“I won’t.”

“I would follow you. I would too.”

“I wouldn’t want that.”

“Then don’t go.”

“I won’t.” “Promise me.” Silence. The slight curl of her fingers at the back of his neck.

“Promise me, June.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“Then promise me you’ll try.”

“I’ll try, I promise.”

It burns up in him. A need that turns liquid, molten until all he can do is seek out her lips in a kiss he hopes will bruise. She’s there to receive it, open, willing, her mouth easy and warm against the desperate snarl of his. And he isn’t being gentle. He can’t be. Not right now.

A button snaps off her shirt in his frantic fumbling, the light pop of it like a tooth coming loose and he wants to hear that sound again, a trail of ruin that leaves her bare to him. Lays her out right there, making this moment permanent with the harsh suck of his mouth, leaving himself across the jittery planes of her chest, the jolt of her stomach, the jut of her hips. She lets him. Lets him, lets him, lets him. Her eyes careful, wide, watching him beneath a crumpled brow as he takes and takes and takes.

Red like–

Dripping like–

But she’s sweet, so sweet. His jaw aches with it. Slipping down his throat with each hot drag of his tongue, all the muscle, bone, ligament he holds jumping under his palms. Singular, nothing else, just the taut curl of her spine, perfect pain, perfect pleasure. Something permanent in the way his name breaks in her chest when he pulls her over the edge. And even when her hips start to stutter like broken wings, he persists, his forearm a heavy cage over her pelvis.

Again. Take what I am giving you.

Again. Let me make you stay.

Again. Let me make this real.

Again. Let me, let me, let me.

He makes her cry with it. Revelation realized. And when she finally sobs out for him to come closer, please, please, please, he relents. Seeking out the salt on her skin with his mouth. Open, receiving, wanting.

Everything goes slow, syrupy, slipping sweet when his hips meet hers. And his heart might burst if he moves, veins splitting open and seeping out with how big this feeling is. But she’s steady beneath him, sure fingers brushing back the damp hair in his face, brushing over his scrunched shut eyes, coaxing them open.

“It’s okay, Joel.” Soft, simple, the song of a bird that beats against his ribs. And it’s devastating when he finally moves. Everything, all of it. He leaves all that he can at the gates of her hips. All of the anger, all of the hate, all of the despair, and all of that dizzying feeling he can’t quite name. She takes it, all of it, her lips a permanent press to his brow, arms holding him tight, tight, tight.

Her name, over and over. An invocation stamped into her skin. Stay, stay, stay.

His name, over and over. A prayer being met. Here, here, here.

They unravel so well for each other.

When all that’s left is drying salt and jagged heartbeats, still he remains. Keeping her close, tangled. And it isn’t really a kiss. Two mouths, open, receiving and willing breath from the other. The machinery of their bodies fitting together to create some new beast.

“I’m hungry.”

“You are?”

“Hmm.”

They stand in the kitchen, bare, sweat cooling in the hollows of their skin. Pears, some of the last sweetness before winter. Burning red that reveals pale flesh. They pass it between careful palms, teeth marking new, dripping wounds with each bite. Their lips turn shiny with it, seeking out syrup, smacking, greedy mouths that take, take, take. And when all that’s left are seeds and stem, they chase what’s left off each other’s tongues.

…

His back hurts. He slept curled around her last night. On the floor in front of the couch. His body draped over hers warm, warm, warm. She’s perfect like this, peaceful beneath the weight of him, only stirring with the soft brush of his nose along her jaw. Eyes flickering open and she’s here, really here, with him.

“Good morning, June.” “Good morning, Joel.”

.......................................

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller au #joel miller x oc #june

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