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dhwty-writes · 3 years

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The Terribly Sad and Tragic Affair that Is the Fake Funeral of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss

Apparently, I am not only drawing for the Critical Role fandom, but writing for it, too. After months of nearly no progress I just vomited out 3k words this Tuesday and it only went downhill from there.

This fic is based on this post by @anne-o-nyme, I really hope I managed to capture the energy of it.

Have fun!

Summary: There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience.

After the sudden "death" of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss, it is his brother Verin's job to empty out his towers. The Mighty Nein show up to help (and maybe steal a few things).

OR: Verin is grieving, Essek just wants his stuff back, and the Mighty Nein are the Mighty Nein.

Warnings: I didn't tag this with MCD, because Essek is technically alive and kicking. Since Verin doesn't know that though, and this fic is written from his POV, this is dealing with grief and includes depictions of depressive thoughts as well as anxiety attacks. For more explicit warnings, please mind the tags on AO3. Take care of yourselves, and let me know if I forgot anything.

Read on AO3

There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience. "Listen," he said with what little calm he had left, "I know that by returning one of our beacons you became heroes of the Dynasty and were placed under Es— My bro— his stewardship. But this here—" he gestured vaguely at the interior of Essek's towers that had always been too cold, too empty, but not like now, never like now— "This is a very difficult situation for me, so if you could please leave, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Yes, yes, it's very sad that Essek died," the blue tiefling said—Jester, her name was Jester; she had given him that already as she had offered him her condolences with a hug—and Verin could barely contain his anger. After the funeral he had quite enough of lying dignitaries, nobles, and heroes currying favours with him. That had always been Essek's thing, he would know what to do, how to make them regret even daring to speak up; Verin had never been any good at it.

"But we're his friends!" He grit his teeth at Jester's blatant falsehood. Perhaps his anger showed on his face, since the tiefling faltered. "And, uh— Fjord?"

"It's true," the half-orc with too-smooth words and too-smooth voice lied, too. "We spent quite some time with your, er— your brother here. Made some good memories. We thought we might take this as our chance to say goodbye, too."

"We are here to help as well. We wouldn't want to infringe upon your grief, though," the tall firbolg added. "So, if you'd prefer us to return at a later point, we'd be happy to."

Verin was still trying to process everything—from these strangers showing up unannounced to their overwhelming presence to the fact that his brother was dead—while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the halfling who looked like she might have sticky fingers. So, he latched onto the word that stood out the most to him: "Help?"

"Right," Fjord said, looking slightly embarrassed, "we probably should have led with that..."

"We should have called ahead, too," the scary-looking human in blue—they didn't even wear white for the funeral—added. "We always forget to call ahead."

"But Beau, how should we have called ahead?" Jester complained. "We didn't know Verin yet."

"Well, Essek—" the human was interrupted by the even scarier-looking woman next to her stepping on her foot unsubtly. She at least had the decency to act embarrassed. "Right. Sorry 'bout that."

Awkward silence fell across the room, the Mighty Nein looking anywhere but him. It took him a few moments to realise they were waiting for him to speak up. "Help how?" Verin could have kicked himself. By the Light, he could do better than that. He had to do better than that.

A beat of silence followed, then everyone seemed to talk at once. Verin wanted to weep. How was he supposed to deal with this? How had his brother dealt with this? 'He probably hasn't,' he thought. 'They're probably all liars, probably—'

Someone cleared their throat and all eyes turned to the other human who hadn't said anything so far and who looked properly miserable. Immediately, the Mighty Nein fell silent. "Word has reached us that Den Thelyss ordered these premises to be vacated as early as possible," he said quietly with an accent Verin has been taught that belonged to the enemy. "And while some of us may not look like much, I can assure you, we are quite capable."

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "I supposed such menial tasks are beneath the heroes of the dynasty. There are servants—"

"Well, sure," the halfling with the probably sticky fingers interrupted, "but we know him. Knew him, I mean; sorry, force of habit."

"Besides, there's a lot of stuff," the lavender tiefling, who Verin was pretty sure was a known pirate, piped up. "Looks like you could use the help."

"If you want to, of course," the sad Empire human added.

Verin only wanted to scream, to give room to the torrent of thoughts raging in his head. 'My brother just died. My brother just died and he wasn't consecuted, so he's gone for good. He's gone for good and I didn't even know him; I didn't even know about these supposed friends he had because he didn't allow me near him in decades. I was a horrible brother and so was he, but I can't even be mad at him because he's dead.

'And now these liars show up and talk about friendship and knowing him, but those are all lies, horrible ones, because Essek had no friends. Essek was cold and cruel and lonely and do you even know how horrible that is? Dying alone with no-one who mourns you, just the favours you still owe them? Do you? I don't even know, and I'm his brother.'

Were he a weaker man, a less disciplined one, he might have said so. But he was Taskhand Verin of Den Thelyss and he had learned discipline before he had learned to talk. So, he said: "Your help would be greatly appreciated, thank you. I'll have the servants bring up some tea. There are, uh—" He straightened his back, summoning the composure that was befitting a Taskhand, even one with a dead brother. "There are boxes up there, they've been brought to the rooms already. Anything of value will be sold; the rest will be given to charity. The things— Well, if you find anything that might have sentimental value, something in his handwriting, perhaps, I think I should like to keep that, please."

The firbolg nodded sagely. "Of course. We will be careful with our selection."

With that, Verin turned around and— froze. Where was he even supposed to start? The towers had always seemed to huge for just Essek and he knew that there were very few personal belongings in them. Still, they would have to be scoured clean within the fortnight.

A large hand on his shoulder made him jump, although he'd never admit it. "Sometimes, when a task seems too large, you should start with the smallest part," the firbolg said. "If I were you, I'd start with the smallest room."

"Thank you, that, uh— that seems like good advice," Verin replied, still a bit startled and confused. "I, er— I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Caduceus Clay. I live in a graveyard, so I'm used to this," Clay said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Verin furrowed his brows slightly. A graveyard? It seemed highly unlikely to him that one of the heroes of the Dynasty would live in a graveyard of all places. Perhaps they were not only liars, but impostors too? But they had the symbols of the Bright Queen, so there wasn't much that he could say.

"Right," he mumbled. "I believe the smallest room would be the closet. Although it might be tied with the bathroom..." He trailed off again. He had never seen Essek's bedroom in his towers. Judging by how many times he had even seen the inside of the building; he could count himself lucky if he even found the way there.

"Why don't we split up?" Clay suggested. "One group takes the closet, one the bathroom and one the bedroom. We'd get done sooner that way."

"That is a great idea, Caduceus," Jester said excitedly. "I'll take the bathroom; I promised— er, I'm curious if I can find more of that hair oil, I got for Fjord that one time!"

"Ohhh, are you saying this is... an investigation?!" the halfling joined in.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Veth!"

"Seems like a case for Wildemount's best detectives!"

"Bye, Verin!" Jester called and he blinked and they were gone. Fjord joined them as well, muttering something about having to supervise them.

The purple pirate-tiefling shrugged, heading off in the same direction. "Well, I wouldn't mind rifling through some drawers. I'll have a look at that bedroom."

"Yeah, I don't need to see Essek's underwear, so I'll pass on the closet," Beau added tactfully—Verin was getting the sneaking suspicion that manners were not really her strong suit. She linked hands with the large woman at her side, pulling her along. "Come on, Yash."

"I'll go handle the tea," Clay said. "Don't worry about it." He vanished in the direction of the kitchen, his steps accompanied by the constant tap tap tap of his staff.

When Verin looked around, he realised that only the sad Empire human was left with him in the hallway. "If you wouldn't mind," he said, pointedly avoiding eye-contact, "I would love to have a look at the closet. I always, ah— appreciated your brother's sense of fashion."

Verin blinked at him a few times, then shrugged. "Sure." He began heading up the stairs.

"My condolences," the human continued. "I realise I didn't speak up earlier, but— I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he said, letting the same numb feeling wash over him again that he had embraced since the news of Essek's death had reached him.

"I know that we seem like a bunch of, ah— forgive my language, but assholes, but we're really here to help. I will tell the others to tone it down a bit."

"Thank you," he repeated.

"If you'd prefer that we start in, ah— less personal rooms, we can do that also."

"If I'm perfectly honest, I don't even know what I should be doing there."

"Neither am I." The human laughed nervously. "I have dealt with grief before, but I've never had the, ah— how do you call it? Hang on." He pulled out a copper wire and whispered: "Beau, how do you say zweifelhafte Ehre in Common? You can reply to this message." A moment later he straightened. "Right. I never had the dubious honour of emptying out a deceased person's house before."

"Neither did I," Verin admitted. 'Usually, the deceased person comes back,' he didn't say. Instead, he opted for: "You're, er— What's the word in Common? You're weird? I'm sorry if that's insulting, I just— waele xanalressen [stupid languages]."

"I don't understand your words, but I think I understand the sentiment." The man grimaced. "And I've heard that one before. I hope we're not too much of a... too much."

"It's alright," he lied and opened the door to Essek's bedroom.

It wasn't alright; Verin wanted to weep again.

The door to the bathroom stood ajar, as did several drawers and cabinets, although he couldn't glance inside. Considering that he heard glass shatter and a quiet "oops" followed by a hushed "Jester!" he was rather glad about that. Besides, what he saw was already quite enough to handle. Beau was currently rifling through Essek's nightstand, the tall woman tossing unread books on the bed carelessly, while the lavender tiefling seemed to make his way through his brother's collections of make-up and jewellery alike.

They froze when they spotted him and the sad human in the door. "Heeey, Verin," Beau drawled.

"These were all still closed, I swear," the lavender tiefling said immediately, gesturing at the jars in front of them.

Verin just sighed in defeat. "I don't wear any make-up, I don't care; you can have it. Put the jewellery in the box to be sold; the books are for charity if he hasn't read them. Just leave the earrings in front of the mirror, please. Those were his favourites."

Without another glance at them, Verin headed straight to Essek's closet, desperate to get some quiet. He took a few moments to collect himself, before closing the door and leaning his head against it with a heavy thunk.

He stayed like that for a minute or maybe two until he heard someone clear their throat. "I have been debating for the past fifty-five seconds, if I should just Dimension Door out," the sad human said and Verin very nearly jumped out of his skin, "but that would be loud and I didn't want to startle you. Not that I didn't startle you like this but—"

"Vithin shu," Verin cursed.

"Vithin shu ke," the sad human agreed, his accent in Undercommon even heavier than normally.

For a moment, they both stared at each other, equally startled by the course of events. Then, the human looked away again. "I, ah— have started learning Undercommon before, um— well, before." Verin tried very hard to focus on the way the human was scratching at his forearms; that way he had something else to focus on besides his nearing breakdown.

"This is a bit embarrassing, but, ah— I believe I forgot to introduce myself," the human continued. "I'm Caleb Widogast. Essek and I were... friends, yes, and ah— colleagues, of some sort. It's... complicated."

He scratched at his arms again before turning towards the shelves and pulling out a stack of tunics. He unfolded one, looked at it, then carefully folded it again, cast a cantrip to smooth out the wrinkles, and put it in the charity box. Then he repeated the procedure with the next. And the next. And the next.

Verin frowned, thinking for a moment about his words. There was something about them that seemed painfully familiar, although he couldn't quite remember. Then: "The transmutation specialist."

Widogast looked up in surprise. "Yes."

"Essek told me of you," Verin admitted.

The last time they had seen each other had been here, in these towers, just a few months ago. He had found his brother in his office, pouring over notes for a new spell, alive and healthy as ever. As always, he had entered without knocking. As always, he had pretended to read the notes. Not as always, he had noticed something wrong. "Whose handwriting is that?" he had asked.

"What?" Essek had snapped, his head whipping up. Then, however, his expression had softened. "Oh. A friend's. A colleague, of sorts. He's helping me out, a bit."

"With the spell?" Verin had asked incredulously.

"Yes. He's a transmutation specialist; you know that's not my forte. Now give it back, will you?"

"A colleague, huh?" He had grinned and held the paper out of Essek's reach. "Are you sure that's all?"

Perhaps Essek had been sick after all, for the strangest thing had happened: instead of using his floating cantrip to snatch the notes back, he had gotten a dreamy, far-off look in his eyes. He had even smiled with an expression Verin might have called dopey, if it weren't his brother they were talking about. After a few moments, he had snapped out of it, sighed, and said: "It's complicated."

"Did he?" Widogast asked tentatively. "Did he, ah— did he say anything else about me?"

Verin pinned him down with a glare, sizing him up. In hindsight, he should have noticed the thick spellbook at his hip earlier; judging by his slim frame alone, he should have known the man was a wizard. He supposed Widogast was handsome enough, although his brother had never cared much for that, with his copper hair and his striking blue eyes. Blue eyes around which crows' feet were gathering, as he noticed to his dismay. 'He's human,' Verin reminded himself. He might have a few decades left, maybe, whereas Essek had centuries ahead of him. The thought why his brother might condemn himself to more loneliness crossed his mind, though it hardly mattered. His brother had been the first to die, after all.

"Verin?" Widogast inquired quietly.

"I'm sorry," he answered with a thick voice. "I got lost in my thoughts there. He, uhh— he said that he trusted you." That didn't even begin to cover it, but these Mighty Nein had been lying to him since the moment they got here, so what was a little lie by omission? Besides, there were some memories that he wanted to keep just to himself.

"Essek," he had teased, still waving the sheet of paper out his reach. "Come on! Aren't we brothers?"

Essek had crossed his arms and pouted. He hadn't done that since they were both little. "Unfortunately. You are a menace. And a child."

"If you tell me about him, I'll give it back. Is he handsome? Is he a drow? Where's he from? How did you meet? When will I meet him? Can I promise to kill him if he hurts you?"

"Verin!" Essek had groaned and hid his face in his hands.

"What do you do when you meet? I bet you stay up all night, talking about 'arcane research' or something."

"We do, in fact. Are you done now?"

"Oh, is that what young people call it these days?" He had cackled at his own joke.

"Evidently not," Essek had muttered. "Might I remind you that you're younger than me?"

"Might I remind you that you're a buzzkill?" Verin had shot back and placed the note down. He had gotten bored of his own game.

Essek had taken the sheet of paper almost reverently and thanked him. "I would have hated it to rewrite that page." He had smoothed it down, stored it safely away in a folder, silent for a long time. Then, he had said: "Caleb."

"Excuse me?"

"That's his name," Essek had said. "Caleb Widogast."

Verin had frowned. "Hey, Essek?"

"Hm?"

"You must trust him a lot, to share a spell with him."

His brother had taken a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Verin hadn't expected him to answer, yet he'd said: "I do, actually. It's not the first spell we've created together and I would be honoured to create a thousand more with him. I'd trust him with my life, my death, and beyond. I think—" He'd huffed. "I think I trust him almost as much as I trust you."

Verin watched Widogast as he was looking through his brother's tunics, placing most of them in the charity box, and he wondered. Wondered if the trust Essek had obviously put in Widogast had been misplaced. Wondered if it had extended to his friends, as well. Wondered if ultimately trust had been his downfall, as he'd always feared.

Then again, if Essek had trusted him... perhaps that trust had been mutual. Perhaps they had been friends. Perhaps there was another person mourning his brother after all.

"Do I have something on my face?" Verin had given up on counting how many times Widogast had now startled him out of his thoughts.

"No, no I—," Verin stammered. "I'm sorry."

He tilted his head to the side. "For staring?"

"No, er— For your loss." Liar or no liar, it only seemed appropriate.

"Oh." Widogast turned back to the tunics. Verin probably should get started, too, shouldn't he? "Thank you. Though I'd wager your loss weighs heavier than mine."

"Probably," he agreed and turned to the task at hand. At this point, Widogast had moved on from the simple tunics to Essek's court regalia. After a short moment of consideration, Verin decided to look through the pants; he also had no interest in sorting through his dead brother's underwear.

Out of the corner of his eye he kept watching the wizard, pulling out one cloak after the other. At a few he wrinkled his nose, at others he just stared before putting them with the tunics. After a while one made him pause; an elaborate, beautiful robe in deep purple. "This is what he was wearing when we first met him," he said.

'He hated that one,' Verin thought. Not that he could say that out loud. Instead, he cocked his head and asked: "Are you sure? He has a lot of those. Had, I mean. Had a lot of those."

"Yeah, I'm sure." He tapped his temple with a faint smile. "I have a good memory."

"As does Essek," he snapped, suddenly feeling very defensive about his brother's capabilities. "I suppose most wizards do."

Infuriatingly, Widogast only nodded. "Indeed. Or they're not very good ones."

Silently, Verin turned back to the trousers. The sooner he got done, the sooner he got these people out of his brother's towers, the better. He didn't know for how long they worked in silence, Verin reminiscing about the times he had seen Essek wear the clothes and wondering about those he didn't know. Eventually, he folded the last of them and forced himself to return to the present. "I think we're done here," he announced. "Do you have a preference for a next room?"

"Perhaps the library?" Widogast offered a tentative smile. "I think I might be of more use there than folding clothes."

"More use than I will be, surely."

"I take it the wizardry doesn't run in the family, then?"

Verin only scoffed and opened the door to the bedroom again.

He immediately spotted Beau leafing through one of the books Essek had never read, while the tiefling was chatting amiably with the aasimar while braiding her hair. He also noted the boxes neatly stacked in the middle of the room. Besides that, he noticed with a heavy heart, the room looked much the same. If anything, it looked less orderly and empty than before. Except for—

"Where are Essek's earrings?" Verin demanded to know.

"What earrings?" the lavender tiefling replied with a too-wide grin the same moment Beau said: "Dude, there's tons of them, why don't—"

"No," he said decisively. "Essek's favourite earrings; they're always up here. I told you about them. Where are they?" His hands curled into fists, his neatly manicured fingernails pressing almost painfully into his skin.

"Perhaps you should look in one of the boxes," the aasimar woman suggested "I'm sure they're—"

"You're lying," Verin interrupted her, barely containing his anger. "Why are you lying? If they're in one of the boxes, then only because you put them there. So: where are they?"

Widogast only now stepped out of the closet, wearing an amber necklace he hadn't noticed before. "Verin—" he said tentatively, but he'd had enough.

"Shut up!" He startled himself with how loud his voice was. But he was beyond caring. "I know they're not in there, because the only ones to put them in there would have been you. So, either you're lying about having them put in there, or you're lying about stealing them, I don't care. Just— please. Please give them back."

The four of them passed a guilty glance. "We can't," Beau replied finally.

"The fuck you can't," Verin spat. "Give them back!"

"Verin, love, we would really love to," the tiefling added, "but we can't."

"I don't understand; is it precious things you want? Here, have some!" He strode over to the boxes and ripped the first open, tossing the lid towards the bathroom door Jester was peeking out of. He reached in to grab a necklace—an ugly one, he had always thought, with a stylised beacon—and threw it in their direction.

Beau caught it. Of course.

"Have a whole box, actually, if you like them so damn much." He reached inside and pulled out a jewellery box, tears prickling in his eyes. He threw one of those, too, just for good measure. It gave him some satisfaction that Widogast had to dodge it. "Just give me back the bloody earrings that my brother wore at my fucking consecution!" He was properly crying now and could only imagine the mess he looked like, but he had reached his limit. And, in his opinion, he was allowed to with all that was going on.

At least they looked a little bit guilty. "Fuck man, we didn't know," Beau mumbled.

"It's just one pair, Beau," Jester called over from the bathroom. "I'm sure it will be alright."

"Yes, there's no need for this to escalate," Fjord agreed and strode over to them, his hands raised innocently.

"I don't even know you people," Verin muttered, looking at the people crowding into his brother's bedroom. "Why did I even let you inside?"

"Do you want the earrings back?" the aasimar woman asked, reaching into a bag at her hip. Had she been carrying a greatsword for the whole time? Verin suddenly noticed how overpowered he was, were he to face all of them. "You can have them back if you want. Here, you can have them back."

"For a moment," Widogast added, slowly drawing closer to him and taking the earrings from the aasimar. He held them out on his flat hand, almost like he had seen soldiers offer treats to horses. His whole demeanour reminded him of someone trying to calm a spooked animal. For some reason, that seemed hilarious to him and he couldn't help the hysterical giggle that escaped his throat.

"Verin, I need you to calm down," he continued. "I know that's easier said than done, but you need your head."

"I think we should all calm down," Clay said from the doorway. And despite being surprised again, he did. It didn't make any sense, but few things these days did.

"Did it work?" the halfling asked. Verin wasn't really sure what she was talking about.

"It did," Clay confirmed.

"Gut," Widogast said and pressed the earrings that had seemed so important a moment ago into Verin's hands. "I think we should maybe go somewhere else, ja? Will you come with me?"

Inadvisable as it might be, if Essek had trusted that man, he should, too. And out of all of the Nein, he seemed to be the most normal one. The one he could see Essek with most. So, he nodded.

"I'll get us back to the kitchen, quickly." Caleb held out his hand and Verin closed his eyes, steeling himself. 'I hate Dimension Door,' was the last thing that crossed his mind before the teleportation spell ripped him away, together with: 'We haven't been to the kitchen, yet.'

Evidently, there went something wrong with the spell. Verin didn't know much about magic, but he knew Dimension Door couldn't transport more than two people. So, when he heard Beau groan and say "Fuck, dude, warn us next time," he knew that something wasn't right.

"You knew about the plan, Beauregard," Widogast replied.

"It doesn't matter," Fjord decided. "Caduceus, do you think you could make tea again? I think the Calm Emotions is about to wear off."

Cautiously, Verin opened one eye, then the other. They were, in fact, standing in a kitchen, as far as he could tell. All of the Mighty Nein were surrounding him. The furniture seemed to have been made for people taller than them; Essek probably would need to float in order to avoid awkwardly climbing onto the chair. The firbolg, however, who was fussing with a teapot, seemed to fit right in. All in all, the interior was very rustic. And very much not in Essek's towers, not that he had ever seen that room, of course.

The panic hit him once more. Verin whirled around to the wizard, instinctively grasping for his sword. "Where the fuck—" he faltered, finding his hip bare. Of course, he hadn't brought it for the funeral. Instead, he opted for just grasping Widogast by the lapels and lifting him up a bit. It was supposed to be menacing, which surely would be more effective, were humans not so annoyingly tall. "Where the fuck are we?!" he spat out.

A lot of things seemed to happen at once—he heard a "Fuck, man, what-" from Beau, a "Well, Mister Thelyss" from the pirate, several hands trying to tug him away from the weak wizard—but he didn't pay them any mind. He just shook Widogast, who looked entirely too calm for his liking, and demanded: "Answer me!"

"Leave him," was all Widogast said. "He has every right to be angry."

Indeed, the people grasping at him retreated, still on guard and surrounding him. There was a creak outside the door and Verin desperately wished for his sword once more. Then, a voice cut through the tense silence that had descended over the kitchen: "Caleb, is that you? You're back early."

"Yeah, there were some complications. Best come and look yourself, Schatz."

There was a sigh that was entirely too familiar for Verin's liking. Then, the door opened with a creak and in walked a dead man. "Complications," Essek Thelyss said with a fond smile. "I was just a Sending away, what did you come here fo— oh."

The person wearing his brother's face stopped in their tracks as they saw him. A couple of complicated emotions passed over his face—confusion, surprise, regret, guilt. If he hadn't known before, Verin was certain now that they were impostors, all of them. His brother would never tolerate such a display of weakness. Still, the impostor said: "Hello, brother."

Verin whipped his head back around to the wizard in his grasp. "What the fuck are you playing at?" he hissed.

"I- what- Verin!" the Essek-impostor sputtered. "What are you doing; put him down!"

"I would appreciate that, yes," Widogast added.

"Not before you don't tell me what's going on."

"Going on?" The impostor sneered and shook his head in a perfect imitation of his brother. "Nothing is going on, Verin."

"You died," he accused him.

"Evidently not," Essek scoffed.

Verin narrowed his eyes, looking from the man claiming to be his brother over the other too calm wizard to the rest of the Nein, seemingly perfectly happy to let this play out. "Prove it," he demanded. "Tell me something only my brother would know."

"You've become paranoid," he noted and Verin couldn't decide if it sounded proud or disappointed. "Alright. When you and I were in our early thirties, you once got in trouble for scaling the outside of mother's mansion. Rightfully, I should have gotten in trouble, too, but I was hiding on the attic. And the reason you never told anyone, is because then you'd have had to explain that I, the wizard, had somehow outpaced you, the fighter, in a climbing competition."

Verin wrinkled his nose at that. "Well, my brother cheated."

"I did not cheat, thank you very much!" He huffed indignantly and crossed his arms. "You didn't say 'no magic' before we started."

He stared at Essek for a few moments. "It's you," he whispered.

"Obviously."

Verin dropped the wizard on the ground and looked over at his brother; really looked. The man looked nothing like the one he had known for most of his life. His hair was longer than it had ever been since he'd cut it off and his bare feet were touching the ground. His clothes were casual, a simple tunic and trousers. After this day, Verin knew for a fact that not even Essek's trancing clothes were that informal, and yet his brother looked more comfortable in them in another's house than he had in decades. On top of that, he kept glancing over to Widogast. And smiling. Essek was smiling.

No, this man looked nothing like the one Verin had known for nearly a century. But he looked a lot like his brother.

"You're alive," he said stupidly.

"Yes, of course I am," Essek said, as if Verin hadn't just attended his funeral.

It felt only right to tell him so: "Why are you alive? I was at your funeral."

"That's a long story," he sighed and floated onto one of the chairs that were slightly too tall for him. He accepted a cup of tea from Clay with thanks and turned back to Verin. "Why are you here?"

"Well, that's a pretty long story, too," Jester spoke up. "He kind of started freaking out about your earrings, I think? And he was crying and looking pretty awful and everything, right Caleb?"

"I, ah— didn't think he'd believe us if we told him about you," Caleb said. "So, we had agreed beforehand to bring him here, in case of an emergency."

"He thought we were lying," Clay added.

"I suppose it is my story to tell," Essek said. "Earrings, Verin?"

"They're your favourite," Verin said stupidly and held them out to him.

His face grew soft. "Oh," he said as he took them gingerly, "I didn't know that you kne—"

Before he could overthink and do something stupid like stop himself, he surged forward and enveloped his brother in a tight hug. After a moment Essek closed his arms around him, too.

It seemed so unreal, to be able to hold him after mourning him for what felt like years. All the worries, all the grief and anger that had crushed him in the past few weeks and for what? For the bastard to still be alive after all. It wasn't fair. Why had he had to go through all of that? And why did he feel the pressing urge to start crying again? He should be happy, shouldn't he, that his brother wasn't dead. So why did it make him feel so awful?

"I think this is our cue to leave," Fjord said. Verin felt his brother nod and heard the Mighty Nein shuffle out of the kitchen, the door closing behind them with a creak.

Only then, Essek spoke up. "Verin," he asked quietly, "are you crying?"

"Shut up," he mumbled through the thick fog of tears and snot, definitely not crying. "I hate you, Essek. Do you know what I went through?"

"Meeting the Mighty Nein? Yes, I can imagine."

"They're horrible," he complained. "They're loud and they're rude and they had absolutely no respect for any of your belongings! I thought I was going mad."

"They are. They also are my friends, you know."

"How?" he asked agonised.

"I know they don't look like it, but they are surprisingly capable. And I am sure that you've noticed most of them to be annoyingly charming. But I think their absolute worst traits are their infinite stubbornness and perseverance. They quite literally did not leave me alone until they had befriended me."

Verin glanced up at him questioningly. "And were half in love with the wizard?" he guessed.

Essek scowled darkly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Perhaps."

He snorted and disentangled himself from their embrace. Very calmly he said: "You're a liar."

Essek looked genuinely startled at that. "What?"

"You said, you trusted me more than him. Why then, did he know and I didn't?"

"It's... complicated," he said.

"You wizards say that a lot."

"Verin." Essek closed his eyes. "I trust you. Implicitly. And I care about you. Which is why I chose not to burden you with the knowledge of my misdeeds. I didn't— I didn't want to put you in an impossible situation to choose between me and our queen."

He laughed nervously. "What on earth are you talking about? I mean, you didn't commit treason or anything."

Essek didn't answer, avoiding eye-contact instead.

"Right?"

Still, Essek kept stubbornly quiet.

"Oh," Verin breathed. He took a moment trying to reconcile what he knew about his brother with the fact that he was apparently a traitor. It all fit together ridiculously easy. "The beacons."

Essek looked up at him in shock and he knew he had hit the mark. "What?"

"You stole the beacons." Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. Essek had been studying them at the time, one of the only people with frequent access to them. He had always been fascinated by them, yet his theories had been rejected for their heretic nature. As Shadowhand, he had also regular contact with counterparts from the Empire, albeit not officially. Then, a few years after Essek’s research had been denied, they had vanished. How had he never seen this before?

"Oh Essek...," he said softly.

"No, please— I don’t—Please don’t—” He seemed to deflate, curling in on himself. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you, I—”

"I don't care,” Verin interrupted his frantic ramblings.

"What?" Essek looked up at him, looking just as shocked as Verin felt.

“I don’t care,” he repeated, realising that it was true the moment the words left his mouth. For how could he care about something as trivial as treason when Essek was sitting right in front of him, alive and well. "You're my brother, I don't care. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a year. Maybe in ten. Right now, I only care that you're alive."

“I—What—I don’t—” Essek stuttered, lifting and then lowering his hands a few times. “I don’t know how— If I can—Fuck.”

There was a joke on the tip of his tongue, but even he knew that this wasn’t the right time for it. Essek was obviously trying to tell him something and it took him a minute to decipher that strange behaviour. “Are you asking for a hug?” he hazarded a guess.

An agonised expression passed over his face and for a moment Verin thought there were tears gathering in his brother’s eyes. Surely not. “I don’t know if I may. I don’t mean to overstep—”

Without further ado, Verin stepped forward and gathered a yelping Essek up and squeezed him tightly. “Of course you may!” he assured him, awkwardly patting his shaking shoulders. “I love you, Essek. I am very glad that you’re alive.”

“I’m very glad to see you, too,” Essek answered and squeezed him a little tighter.

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nobodyfamousposts · 3 years

Note

What would your ideal tikki be?

I'm of the opinion that the best kwami/human duo setup would be one where they work off each other and both can benefit and grow from their time together. Not just "the kwami is always right" (Tikki) while never actually doing anything helpful or supportive for their chosen/mentee/an actual teenager.

I'd say that it'd work better for the kwamis to have different mindsets and morals that fit different periods of time. After all, aside from possibly Wayzz, they've all been in the Miracle Box for years if not decades if not CENTURIES. There would be bound to be a disconnect from that alone. And add on top of that, these kwamis are beings older than the universe whom are all either based on or the basis FOR certain animals, so that needs to matter for more than just their appearance.

For Tikki in particular, this would mean that she is a being of WAR.

She is a Ladybug, which are natural predators, particularly known for eliminating and devouring garden-destroying pests. It's part of the reason they're well regarded and even considered lucky. While not poisonous to humans, they are red for a reason, and can be toxic to smaller animals. They also show some intelligence and ability for tactics, such as playing dead to deter predators.

On top of this, let's bear in mind that Tikki has been noted to have past users of importance who were involved in some pretty major conflicts and war, like Jeanne D'arc and Hippolyta, both of whom were noted as warriors or involved in war.

Given all this, I'd imagine Tikki would best work more similar to the Evil Tikki concept. Not where she's "evil", per say, but where she's definitely more pragmatic and used to war and fighting as an acceptable answer to resolving conflicts. A Tikki who accepts lethal means as necessary at points and shows a tactical mind that is both equal to and opposite of Marinette's own. She can be mature, calm, and reasonable while still horribly out of touch. And she can give advice and support while having that advice be unhelpful not because of her own refusal TO help, but simply due to nature of the advice she knows how to give vs the current situation and what Marinette actually needs to do. That way, we could have Marinette still needing to figure out how to resolve problems on her own without Tikki directly telling her the answer, but also avoid Tikki being self-righteous over it despite essentially abandoning Marinette to potentially make the wrong decision without telling her what the "right" decision is supposed to be (looking at you, Reflekta).

This would be a Tikki who doesn't get emotional-based decision-making. Do what works, not what "feels good", because it's all about survival and competition. How different would the lesson in Gamer have come across regarding considering other's feelings if Tikki's stance/advice was to support Marinette that she didn't do anything wrong by competing and winning because that's what competitions are for? Winners win and survive while losers lose and get eaten. That might have done more to add to Marinette's guilt over hurting Max's feelings because hearing such blatant and dare I say heartless statements from Tikki would make her question herself more. Ultimately, she would need to be her own self control when it comes to trying for what she wants.

This would go a long way to display the disconnect between kwamis and humans. They don't GET humans. They aren't around them often and when they are, they're only really bonding with their specific chosen. Their ideas of morals or "right and wrong" would be vastly different from what people nowadays would consider. This would open up Tikki and potentially other kwamis to lessons and growth, allowing them to change from their time with their users just as much as the users would change from their time with the kwamis.

This effect can and probably should be achieved without making the kwamis have the personalities and mentalities of children. Because the way canon does it, the kwamis come off as horribly naive and irresponsible for beings who are supposed to older than the universe and major players in bringing about the world as we now know it. Especially as beings that the characters and even we as the audience are supposed to respect, listen to, consider to be the moral authority of any situation, and just in general take seriously. If the kwamis don't feel or understand love (as Tikki takes FOUR SEASONS to reveal), then WHY are we supposed to take their input regarding the love square as valid?

My take on Tikki would be as a warrior. Someone who THINKS she knows best but isn't always right. Someone who does understand and is able to give decent advice on love more on the basis of love being an emotional war of attrition of the heart. Someone who learns that sometimes new, different or at least more subtle tactics are needed to deal with problems. Someone who supports Marinette even if she doesn't necessarily know how. Someone who admits to the influence of the Lucky Charms and gives Marinette items that aren't completely random or silly, but have clear and more dangerous purposes that Marinette by her own personality and beliefs refuses to use them for and instead uses her own cleverness to find alternatives to—something that Tikki could both be put out over but also impressed by. This would also allow for a subtle indicator of their growing bond when Tikki's influence eventually makes Lucky Charms that fit Marinette's specific needs in a non-lethal way instead of her usual method.

This would allow for a greater dynamic between Marinette and Tikki, and one that would change over time. Instead of Tikki just lecturing without offering anything useful other than what NOT to do or why Marinette should feel bad. Or Tikki just serving as a prop for Marinette to talk to about her problems or feelings instead of any of the multitude of people she already has to talk to—or better yet, SHOWING rather than TELLING.

All in all, I'd go for a Tikki who is flawed. One who would over time learn and grow from her time with Marinette just as Marinette would from her.

#ml salt #tikki #tikki salt #how it could have been

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startanewdream · 3 years

Text

The road home

Summary: Lily watches Harry and Ginny finding their way back to each other following the end of the war.

Note: For @madhulika18, who asked for more Hinny moments as seen by James and Lily. I could never decide if this is really part of Eyes Glistening (because Harry and Ginny have drama really, and I don't like them having drama), but it works either way, so I hope you enjoy these moments (also, I have a soft spot for Lily and Harry talking, so...)

_______

It’s all about the words that aren’t being said.

Once, a long time ago, Lily lived that with James. But it was different and, though, of course, it didn’t seem like that at the time, it was easier too. Her problems were unknowing her feelings, not understanding why she enjoyed his company and why she craved his smile, his light. She had fancied him for a long time before she understood what it was what she really felt for him — and until then it was only her heart beating faster when they would touch each other without meaning too (a brush of hands, sitting together closer than necessary), enjoying the perfume he’d left on his trace, finding excuses to be with him.

But after she had understood what she felt for him, somehow it had been easy. Awkward, sure, that first date when she was feeling stupid near him — until she remembered this was James, and being with him was good and blissful and then kissing him had felt as natural as breathing —, but there was never a question about how they felt about each other, never doubts that they would be together.

They had fought over many things, until they perfected the art of compromising, of understanding each other’s view, but there was never a breakup, never something that really kept them apart.

They are lucky on this, she knows.

Especially when she sees the look on Harry’s face, the way his eyes can’t help but follow Ginny as she walks around between the tables of the Great Hall, stopping to share words with her friends.

They haven’t talked yet. Lily knows this because Harry was gone with Ron and Hermione after the battle and then he slept for a full day. When he woke up, he called his parents and they talked then — the most difficult conversation Lily had ever had in her life and the one she knew she needed most. She and James. They needed to understand what had happened, why it had cost Harry’s life and what it had meant, but nothing had really prepared her to know her son had died.

Only the thought of it sends shivers through her body.

Harry is fine now, having come down to the Great Hall to lunch; there are fewer people at Hogwarts two days after the Battle, so they manage to find a place for them to sit quietly. It’s almost peaceful.

Except Harry is clearly not at peace.

‘Go talk to her,’ she whispers to him, and Harry turns to her with those eyes that are full of ghosts lately — he has seen and lived and died too much.

‘She doesn’t want me,’ he answers, breathing heavily as if the words are physically hurting him.

‘How do you know?’ James asks, exchanging a confused look with Lily.

‘Because she hasn’t come to talk to me.’

Lily thinks Harry didn’t go to her either, so maybe this is just a case of miscommunication. But she doesn’t say anything, because she believes things have to happen at the right time. And she has been watching Ginny too; every time Harry looks the other way, she glances in his direction, an expression on her face that Lily cannot understand exactly.

It seems to be ablaze.

_______

Later, Lily will define it as a dance where the dancers aren’t supposed to touch each other but still they synchronize their steps perfectly.

It’s unnerving, really, and she doesn’t know how they are really managing it, but if there is a quality she could attribute to both Harry and Ginny is stubbornness.

They can’t ignore each other, not really, not with how much they encounter each other — funerals and homages and dinners over the Burrow and rebuilding Hogwarts —, so instead they adopt a sort of relationship that’s just a shadow of how much they got along together.

Lily saw them before they even dated or had acknowledged their feelings for each other, and Harry and Ginny had shined together with chemistry as if they were two ingredients in a potion that demanded to be together. It was only friendship but there was sparkle and understanding and compassion and brightness. Lily remembers thinking that even if they didn’t develop romantic feelings for each other, they were truly soulmates.

And this is just one of the reasons why their current formal courtesy with each other bothers her so much. If they wanted to be only friends, there wasn’t much she could do. But they are not even friends lately, just two people who had gone through so much and hadn’t been able to share anything with each other despite wanting very much.

That’s the other thing that annoys her. They want more. Both of them.

She knows Harry, of course — he shares the same expressions and he wears his feelings on the same sleeve Lily does, so it’s easy —, and Lily likes to think she knows Ginny too, for the times they met, for all they’ve talked and for the fact that Ginny is usually blatant on her feelings when they are at the edge.

Usually. This time, it seems their stubbornness is getting the better of both of them.

They are alone most of the days of May. Hermione has gone to Australia to find her parents and Ron went with her, and Lily thinks this would be perfect for them to get together again – to have time to talk and to truly live their relationship without the threat of a storm above their heads.

But they don’t go to each other. They stay apart, even though Lily sees the cracks in their stubbornness when Harry breaks a glass after hearing Ginny talking about exchanging letters with an ex-boyfriend, and when Ginny suddenly leaves the room after Harry mentions Kingsley’s proposal to start the Aurors course.

James sees it too. He is always frowning when they are in the same room, and Lily knows no one rooted more for that relationship than James. So she is not surprised that he approaches her one morning when they are cleaning the mess the Death Eaters made in her office.

‘Do you remember when you forbade me from intervening in Harry’s love life?’ he asks in a nonchalant voice, cleaning a stain that looks a lot like blood on the carpet.

Lily nods with her head.

‘Maybe it’s time to change that rule?’ James asks then, now sounding hopeful.

Lily throws him the briefest of the looks, without turning away her attention from the cauldrons she is supposed to check if anything is worth saving.

‘Harry would hate it if we did anything.’

‘Harry would hate it if he knew we were doing anything.’

‘And James Potter can be discreet? How many detentions did you get just because you couldn’t help but flaunt your work?’

He raises his eyebrows challengingly.

‘That Slug Club dinner on my birthday. I was so discreet no one ever found out what we were doing.’

Lily blushes. He was absurdly quiet that night, indeed, despite her attempts otherwise.

‘Fine, you’ve got a point. Go on, but I’m warning you, if Ginny realizes what you are trying to do, she will hex you and I won’t stop.’

‘As long as she hexes me on their wedding day, I won’t complain,’ James says unabashedly, and Lily has to grin.

She is not feeling much confident — James’ love plans took him three years to her agree to date him, after all, and even then she had fallen in love with him when he had given up on any plan at all —, but she can’t deny James is creative and it’s better trying anything than watching Harry sigh all over the place, heartbroken and unhappy.

During the year they were out, their house has been searched over and over; their furniture is broken and there are spots of red ink — or blood — in every room, with curses or slurs written on every wall. They could just easily destroy the house and build a new one, but it feels good to clean the place; it feels like a new beginning.

Maybe this is what James is hoping to give Harry and Ginny because he asks for her help in rebuilding their house. Ginny accepts surprisingly quickly, probably guessing that Harry will still be occupied with the work at Hogwarts.

‘Thanks for the help,’ Lily says after she and Ginny manage to clean the debris away from the stairs, so now the first floor is available for them to start cleaning up the rooms.

‘No problem, it’s good to be out of the house,’ Ginny notes, drying the sweat on her face. ‘Sometimes it feels… too claustrophobic there.’

Lily raises her eyebrows, indicating around the hall, where the number of things still to be organized makes the corridor seem a lot smaller than it is. Ginny gives a small chuckle.

‘It’s just — Mom is trying to compensate, I think. Ron is not here and I am the youngest and she needs to take care of something, after — after everything that happened. So, yeah, I need some time to myself.’

‘Are you sure there is nothing else you would like to do?’ Lily asks, concerned now. Ginny just shrugs.

‘Since I can’t fly, this seems like the best available option,’ she says. ‘And it feels good to be doing something — and there is so much to do here. The Death Eaters made a mess.’

‘That could be said for everywhere.’

‘And everyone,’ Ginny adds softly, and she returns to the cabinet she is trying to fix without saying anything further, but Lily doesn’t think she needs to. She saw Neville’s bruises, she saw Luna’s scars and she has a pretty good idea of how it was at Hogwarts under Voldemort’s regime.

But Ginny keeps her marks quietly, and Lily knows there is only one person she will be able to talk to.

The next day, James comes home earlier from Hogwarts with Harry. There is an awkward moment when Harry and Ginny meet in the kitchen and James mentions that now the main work over Hogwarts is done, Harry volunteered to help get his home back again.

‘Any problem?’ James asks genially, making both Harry and Ginny jump.

‘No,’ they say at the same time, and it doesn’t convince anyone.

Lily never noticed how big their house was until she realizes Harry and Ginny still manage to avoid each other except during mealtimes, so she decides they can get past subtlety. She and James start to ask them for help for the same rooms until they eventually are paired in the same tasks.

She doesn’t hear them talking, but it seems to work, albeit at the slowest pace ever.

‘You won’t believe who asked Sirius for an interview,’ James says one night after they settled for the day and they are having dinner before Ginny returns to her house. ‘Rita Skeeter.’

‘What scoop does she want now?’ Harry asks, rolling his eyes. ‘I am still awaiting her biography about me.’

‘What will be called?’, Ginny asks, and Harry turns to her with his eyes already shining with the joke.

‘Easy. Harry Potter, chosen or undesirable one?’

She laughs – it’s a short tentative laugh, but it’s there, and Harry smiles too. James exchanges a look with Lily, but she shakes her head warningly to him.

‘What Skeeter wanted with Sirius?’ she asks, putting the conversation back into place. It was just a shared joke. There is still a long road ahead.

‘Oh, gossip on you and me, actually, which unfortunately is something Sirius thinks it’s too funny to pass – and also he has a soft spot for Skeeter.’

Harry chokes on his drink.

‘Soft spot?’

‘Oh, please, don’t tell me –‘ Ginny raises her eyebrows, exchanging a bewildered look with Harry. ‘Sirius and Rita Skeeter?’

James chuckles.

‘No, he just likes her because of the animagus stuff. He says he can’t fault her for being one.’

‘Oh, much better,’ Ginny sighs. Then she bits her lip before looking back at Harry. ‘Can you imagine them together? Rita Skeeter as your godmother?’

‘I would have to quit Sirius from his job as godfather,’ Harry says, pretending to gag. ‘He would clearly be underqualified.’

There is another small giggle and that’s it for the night.

They are talking again at least, even if it is still not like it used to be. There are no whispered words during their time together during the day and they don’t seem to be secretly snogging. But they talk sometimes, and once or twice Lily hears a laugh when she passes the room they are in.

But it’s only two weeks later that something seems to happen.

Lily is in her room, finishing to set up the bed so she and James will finally be able to sleep there, when the voices catch her up on her window.

‘You are bleeding.’

‘It’s just a cut, Harry, no big deal.’

‘It was a splinter, there can still be something there.’

‘I told you, I took everything off. I will just press it, it will stop bleeding in a minute.’

‘I can help you, I – I know a lot of healing spells.’

There is a pause.

‘Me too, but I also know that the bleeding will stop. It’s not deep.’

‘How do you –‘

‘Same way you know, Harry.’ There is a note of tension in Ginny’s voice. ‘I had to learn.’

‘Ginny –‘

‘What? Do you think you were the only one who had a hard time?’

And she storms inside, giving him no time to answer.

Harry is subdued that night, even more reserved than natural, and when she passes his room late at night, she sees the light is on. For a second Lily wonders if she should call James, but then she sighs and knocks on his door.

‘Harry?’

In answer, the door opens quietly. Lily enters his room to see Harry fully clothed on his bed; he is holding something and, with a start, she realizes it’s the Marauder’s Map. That’s a weird thing for Harry to be consulting in the middle of the night.

‘Can’t sleep?’ she asks, sitting on the edge of his bed and running her hand through his hair comfortingly. He shrugs. ‘Anything to do with that fight with Ginny?’

He raises his eyebrows.

‘Hearing behind doors, Mum?’

‘No need, you were talking under my window.’

‘Next fight I will make sure we are far,’ he says with a grimace.

‘There will be a next fight?’

‘I don’t know,’ he admits, and this prospect doesn’t seem to make him better. ‘If I asked you something, would you be honest with me?’

‘Wasn’t I always, Harry?’

He smiles for a second before his expression is grave and uncertain.

‘Do you think I am self-centred?’

Lily blinks.

‘No one would accuse you of being selfish, Harry, I mean –’

She doesn’t know where to begin, considering all the sacrifices she had seen Harry make over the years — he gave his life —, but Harry shakes his head.

‘Not selfish, I mean – the summer after my fourth year, when Voldemort was back, I said plenty of things –’

‘You were under a lot of stress, no one –’

‘I know, but I was complaining about how everything happened to me and now I am thinking that maybe, somehow, I never stopped to think that things happen to other people too.’

Lily squeezes his hand.

‘It is not a suffering competition, Harry.’

‘I don’t know if I see it that way. I mean, when I saw Neville for the first time, with all his bruises and looking so hurt, I still wished it could be me, staying at Hogwarts and fighting because it seemed easier and it never occurred to me that she could – they could – have had a difficult time too. It still seemed… just school.’

He pauses to pick up the Marauder’s Map, opening it even if there is no map showing there.

‘I used to take the Map last year to watch over her,’ he whispers, his face flushing. ‘And I saw her dot and I never thought that she could be in trouble. I knew they were rebelling, but… it didn’t feel like it was something real.’

‘Well, that’s why you should talk to each other. None of you will understand if you keep avoiding each other.’

‘She is mad at me.’

‘Of course she is. You are avoiding her.’

He doesn’t answer.

‘You need to talk, Harry. Go there. Try it.’

He blinks, a hint of a smile on his lips.

‘Are you suggesting that I go visit my ex-girlfriend in the middle of the night?’

‘I’m pretty sure you will just talk if she doesn’t hex you first,’ Lily says brightly. Then she smiles softly. ‘You could wait until tomorrow, Harry, but I have the feeling you both have been waiting too long. And this isn’t any of your styles. You are both people of action.’

Harry grins now, standing up.

‘I will go then. Thanks for the tip, Mum.’

Lily accepts the soft kiss he gives her on the cheek.

‘Just be safe, Harry.’

_______

Harry seems to be in a better mood the next morning, despite the fact that he slept a few hours that night — Lily knows he returned by five, just as the sun was rising.

But she doesn’t say anything, just smiling to herself when Harry’s face lights up when the fireplace erupts into emerald flames and Ginny appears, dusting her clothes. They exchange a look that it’s still not there yet, but it’s soft and promising. James looks in her direction, surprised, and she promises to explain later.

It’s not Summer yet, but the days of May and then June get warmer and then Harry and Ginny are spending more time outside, though there isn’t much to fix there.

At least, not material things.

James keeps an eye on them — he wouldn’t resist not doing so —, telling her that most of the time they just seem to be taking long strolls and talking.

One day they return from their walk holding hands, and Lily has to lock James inside the room so he doesn’t say anything. Harry and Ginny are still not there.

The road home takes time.

On the second weekend of June they have the hottest day yet and they take some time off; James transfigures a pool in the backyard that neither Harry nor Ginny seems to enjoy other than to sit at the edge of the pool and take off their shoes to wet their feet. Instead of helping to ease any tension, the pool seems to create some weight over them, making them more silent than usual, so James suggests they go flying instead.

‘My Firebolt is gone,’ Harry remembers, wincing, and Lily knows it’s not the broomstick he is really missing right now. Harry lost a friend that day.

‘Mine was burnt by the Carrows last year,’ Ginny adds, her voice casual as if it’s nothing important.

They don’t end up doing anything after that.

In the afternoon, James gets a call from Sirius and Lily decides to just stay home, finishing the Wolfsbane Potions she will need to deliver to Remus by the end of the week. She is quietly lost in her favourite potion world when she hears the voices, and it’s just because they are whispering, rather than talking normally, that it draws her attention.

‘Are you sure?’ Ginny is asking, her voice unusually hesitant.

‘Only if you are,’ he whispers, sounding just as unstable.

Lily approaches the window and withdraws the curtains as little as she needs. Harry and Ginny are still by the pool, standing facing each other, and without looking away from Harry, she takes off her shirt, to reveal her bikini under it.

Harry gasps, but Lily knows that what is taking his breath away are the marks on Ginny’s torso — faint scars of cuts and small yellowed bruises that remained from the battle, over a month ago.

Ginny bits her lip, her arms trembling as if she wants to cover herself. Harry finally takes a step in her direction, looking her in the eyes now.

'Thank you for showing me,’ he whispers and then he sighs. 'My turn'.

His hands are shaking as he goes to unbutton his shirt, until Ginny raises her hands.

'May I?'

Harry nods slowly.

Ginny keeps her head high, not looking away from Harry's eyes, until she finishes opening all the buttons from his shirt and taking it off.

Then her eyes fall to his chest and Ginny freezes.

Lily knows what she is seeing, even though Lily can't see it from her angle: Harry's new lightning scar, across his chest, over his heart, where the Killing Curse hit him for the second time in his life.

'Harry,’ Ginny sighs, pain evident in her voice. She raises her hand, looking at him, questioning him silently. Harry nods once more.

Then Ginny takes a step closer to him, touching his chest, and Lily knows that she must be feeling his heart over it.

She lets the curtain fall and returns to her potion.

She is not surprised when they return home holding hands and she only tells James later (so he doesn't say anything during dinner because she knows her husband) that Ginny kissed Harry softly on the lips when she thought no one was seeing them.

#Hinny #Jily Lives AU #Hinny Fanfiction #Eyes glistening #T: Fanfiction

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airplanned · 3 years

Text

All the Trashy Novels Part 24

Part 1...Part 23

***

Zelda sought out Purah that night to apologize for shouting, but also to understand why the Sheikah were so adamant.

"I appreciate your defensiveness over me, even if it is misplaced. And you know I appreciate seeing someone else see through Sir Link's perfect hero disguise. But I don't understand why you think I have any claim on him."

Purah gave her a look. "We're Sheikah. We notice things that aren't even a tenth as blatant as you two. The last time you were at the tech lab, you two were giving each other longing bedroom eyes the whole time."

"We were certainly not! Well...Link might have been. But I did nothing of the sort!"

"Not even when you were kissing behind Lab 2?"

"We--That was angry kissing! It doesn't count! How did you know about that!?"

Purah made an elaborate gesture with her hands, covering her face and pulling her hands apart like an opening eye. "We see all."

Zelda didn't care for that. Obviously, the Sheikah didn't know everything if they thought she and Link were lovey-dovey. But they did know far more than she would like.

"And then who's that picture for if not Link?"

"What picture?"

Before she knew it, Purah had slipped the Sheikah slate from Zelda's hip ad was flipping through the photo album. "This one." She held it up, and Zelda's face went red. Okay, yes, maybe those did count as bedroom eyes.

She snatched the slate back and pressed it to her chest. "That is for me," she said primly. "I look good."

"You look all breathy and whimpering. As vanilla as anything. At least show some cleavage next time."

Zelda huffed. Despite her constant, simmering irritation with Link, Zelda did not consider herself an angry person. And yet she was about to lose her temper on Purah twice in one day.

Purah reached out and squeezed her arm. "Zelda, I'm going to tell you this, because I doubt you have anyone in your life who will: You cannot go after Link if he has a townie girlfriend. That's tacky. You have to wait until they've broken up. Let him get whatever this is out of his system, and he'll come crawling back to you."

Zelda rubbed her forehead, suddenly very tired. "I know, Purah. I know."

It gnawed at her. Not the part where she'd been warned against making Link a cheater, because that was not applicable in this situation. But the part where Link had to get it out of his system. Because maybe that was what they were both doing. They both had a lot of pent up energy and a lot of frustration and didn't know very many people, and, and, and, why did that bother her? It was what she'd been saying the whole time.

She woke to the sound of rain, feeling miserable. In a grumpy fog, she got dressed and headed down to get a new book, because a new book might make her feel better? Would it? It might make everything worse.

She opened the door to an empty room, and only then realized that she'd been expecting to see Link. It was raining. Why wasn't he here? Where was he? She tried to frown in annoyance, but her shoulders just slumped.

She grabbed a new book out of his chest, and then plopped onto the edge of the bed. A moment later, she flopped to the side, slipped out of her shoes, and pulled her feet onto the bed.

What was she doing here? What was she doing in general?

The next thing she knew, there was a soft thump at the foot of the bed, and she opened her eyes to the realization that she'd fallen asleep. The Master Sword was propped against the wall by her head. She cut her eyes to the foot of the bed to see Link tug off his boots and peel out of a soaked shirt. He unbuttoned his damp pants, and Zelda snapped her eyes shut. A minute later, she opened them again just in time to see his head pop out of the top of a clean, dry shirt.

At which point he caught her staring and stepped around to take a seat beside her. "You can sleep more," he whispered. "I can cover for you."

"You're dripping everywhere." His hair was still wet and soaking the back collar of his fresh shirt. She pushed herself up. "Do you have a towel."

He fetched one and she took it from his hands, tipping his head towards her and slipping out his hair tie before scrubbing the towel against his scalp. She was thorough, firm but not rough. When she was done, she slowed, hesitating before lifting the towel from where it covered his face. He was giving her a look, half confused, half devoted, and she only deserved the first half.

He took the towel from her hands and tossed it to the floor, and she scoffed.

For a moment, they stared at each other.

"I thought you didn't train in the rain," she said.

"I wasn't training."

"Where were you?"

"Did you miss me?"

"No."

"What are you reading?"

She sighed. "I have no idea."

He cracked a smile. Then he scooted lower on the bed and plopped down beside her, which made her stiffen. "Read it to me?"

She readjusted herself, sitting back against the headboard. He propped his chin in his hand and watched her. Quietly, she opened the book to the beginning. "The winds were blustery on the sea that night, sending a whistling through the drafty windows in the lighthouse, where Leon sat alone as he always--" She dropped the book and pulled the slate from her hip. "Do I look breathy and whimpering in this picture?"

She pushed the slate into his face, and he took it, holding it slightly away so he could look at it. Then he froze.

She clutched her hands together, then realized she was doing that, and stopped. She realized she was leaning forward. "Well?"

"I...Goddess..."

"Goddess good or goddess bad?"

"You're...it's a bit like being punched in the gut. You know?"

"No."

He took a moment, his eyes scanning, scanning, scanning over the picture. He rolled from lying on his side to lying on his stomach.

Her eyes darted from the picture to his face. "Purah said I look breathy. I don't know what she means, but I don't like it."

He shook his head. "No, this is more of a low hum."

The thought made her face heat. She wasn't entirely sure why. What were they even talking about? What noise it looked like she was making in a picture?

"She also said it was boring, and I could take a sexier picture."

He shrugged one shoulder. His eyes were still locked on the screen.

"Goddess, that's enough," she said, pulling the slate from his hands. Suddenly she couldn't even look at him.

"So...are you wanting to take a sexier picture, or do you want assurances that this has the intended effect?"

"Intended effect?"

"That I am bothered."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

He shifted, and suddenly he was above her, braced on his hands, leaning in so his face was near hers, his eyes burning.

She swallowed and squeezed the slate tighter in her hands. "Purah says I'm not supposed to kiss you while you have a townie girlfriend."

"That's wise."

She nodded.

They stared at each other.

"It would be very bad if I liked you," she said.

His face softened. "I know." Then he added, "So it's a good thing you don't."

"Yes."

"The king wouldn't like it, and everyone would gossip about how I'm distracting you from your duties, and I'd be transferred off your detail, at which point you would miss me and also be murdered by Yiga assassins."

"Or stray guardian lasers."

"And you would have to admit that you've been a little jealous and petty."

"Which I'm not."

"Exactly."

Something loosened in her shoulders, relieved that he understood.

"It's a good thing you have a fake townie girlfriend then," she said.

Her gave her that doofy smile. "Yeah," he said. "I think she likes me."

***

Part 25

#All the Trashy Novels #My fic #Zelda

160 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

For the 390 prompts, how about #381 “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” with Catfish... My devil side want to make it angst but it's totaly up to you 😭 🌱

It’s angst hours, baby!

Pairing: Frankie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: language

MASTERLIST

FRANKIE MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Hey,” Santi slipped into your abandoned stool at the bar next to Frankie. You were all at the bar for weekly get together, but Frankie had noticed you seemed down from the moment you walked in. He was attuned to you, very much so from years of being your closest friend, but it hadn’t taken much to see that you were upset. Your lips barely managed to curve into a smile, and your eyes had a heavy tiredness behind them, despite your best efforts to appear happy, “you heard about what happened, right? With Bee?”

“I...no? She hasn’t said anything to me,” his brows knitted together in confusion as he downed the rest of his beer. A sense of worry settled into his bones at your behavior; it was so strange and unlike you, “w-what happened?”

“Mark,” Santi dramatically rolled his eyes at Frankie before flagging the bartender over for another round of drinks; it seemed like you could all use it. Rage boiled in his blood at the sound of the name; he’d hated Mark from the day the two men had met. It wasn’t just because he was the man that had won over your affections, although that was definitely a large part of it, but because after a while it was clear that he was genuinely an asshole. He wasn’t good, or good to you, but for some reason you’d never seen that. You ended up putting up with so much shit that you’d normally never take from anyone else. Frankie’s grasp around his empty bottle was so tight it was a surprise it didn’t shatter into little pieces, “he cheated on her...she finally dumped him.”

“He cheated on her? That fucking asshole,” Frankie almost jumped out of his spot as every bad thing he wanted to do to the man that broke your heart bubbled up, “I will-”

“She found them together,” Santi put his hand on Frankie’s arm to calm him down, “and apparently he still tried to make it seem like her fault. She’s really upset, Fish. Don’t make things worse right now. I know - we all know - how you feel about her. Give her time and space.”

“I’m her best friend,” he huffed as he slid out of his spot, “I need to be there for her. I’ll just...I’ll make sure she’s okay. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t tell me...:”

“Why do you think, Fish?” Santi cocked a brow at his friend before letting out a long sigh, “she knows you’ve always hated him. She doesn’t want you to do anything stupid and get yourself into trouble. She loves you too, you know. Even if she doesn’t realize that.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Everyone knows it,” Santi was amused at how blind the both of you could be at times, “it’s so obvious to everyone...except perhaps the two of you. The way you look at each other, how you act...that shit ain’t just friends shit. You both know it.”

“Then why did she date Mark? For almost two years and waste that time on him?” Frankie grew frustrated as he slid off the stool and hit the dirty floor of the bar with a dull thud, “why wouldn’t she say anything to me?”

“Why haven’t you ever said anything to her?”

“I don’t want to lose Bee,” he pulled off his old, batted cap and hand a hand through his curls in frustration, before slapping it back on his head, “I’d rather keep her as my friend forever than face a life without her.”

“There’s your answer.”

“I’ve got to see her,” he insisted, brushing past Santi, “I have to let her know.”

“Don’t - give her time and space,” Santi grabbed his arm and insisted, “don’t push her just because he’s gone. She’s hurt and been through a lot. Be her friend and let things happen on their own.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Frankie snapped as he pulled out of Santi’s grasp and headed to the back of the bar, where he’d seen you step outside and disappear a little bit earlier.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were pacing around with your phone pressed to your ear as you tried to keep it together and not break down into another fit of tears and sadness. The whole day had seemed like a blur, one painful, horrible nightmare and you just wanted it to be over. You just wanted to sleep and wake up and have no memory of anything. Perhaps not even the last two years.

“I can’t believe he did that to you,” your sister sounded as incredulous as you felt, “you’ve been so good to him, more than he deserves honestly, and for him to do that? Asshole. I am so, so sorry for what he did to you, babes.”

“Me too,” was all you could choke out as your lips trembled with effort not to cry. You looked at the inky black sky, dotted with glittering stars as you tried to ground yourself.

“At least you’ve got the guys with you. If he does or says anything, you know they’ve got your back,” she reminded you, causing you to experience a momentary pause of peace, “and now you can finally tell Frankie how you feel.”

“No,” you insisted firmly as Frankie stepped outside, quiet as a mouse as he tried not to interrupt. He hadn’t meant to be sneaky and listen in, truly, but now that he was there, he couldn’t stop himself, “I’m not telling him anything.”

“You love him! You’ve been in love with him for what? Almost six years?” she scoffed at the other end of line, “you have to tell him how you feel, now is the time. He’s not...he’s not to wait for you forever. If you love him, let him know.”

“I don’t,” you lied thickly, steeling your nerves as you bit back bile. It was hard to lie; especially when it came to Frankie. He was everything you were not: good, gentle, pure, loving. He didn’t deserve to have you dragging him down. He deserved the world - something you felt you could never give him. He would be so much better off without you, no matter how much you actually loved him.

“You’re such a liar!” she insisted as you groaned, “the two of you are in love! You’re just blind fools, scared to get hurt.”

“No!” you shouldn't have called her, you should have just gone home and cried yourself to sleep like you had planned on, “I don’t love him! I don’t love Frankie. He’s nothing but a friend and he’ll never be anything else!”

Frankie’s breath hitched in his throat as he listened to your angry tirade. He must have heard wrong...surely you hadn’t meant it, right? Santi had said...everyone had told him….he loved you. But...you didn’t love him? He needed to get out of there and fast; he left like he was going to be sick. But as he turned on his heel, he almost slipped on a rock and made a small sound of surprise.

You froze in fear at the sound, realizing for the first time that you weren’t alone at all. Your sister was still babbling away at you, calling you a liar as you turned around and found Frankie, frozen in fear as he tried to get back inside. You swallowed thickly, knowing exactly what had happened; he had heard your blatant denial of love. The lie you wish you’d never spewed. Ending the call without a word, you stepped closer to him as his own eyes appeared glossy with tears.

“Oh Frankie,” your voice cracked as more tears rolled down your cheeks. Could this day really have gotten that much worse? You wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole, “you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“I wish I hadn’t,” he admitted quietly, “I came to look for you, to make sure you were okay. Santi told me what happened.”

“Frankie, it was a lie,” you might as well tell him the truth now. There was nothing left to lose at this point, and he deserved to know the truth finally, “I was talking to my sister and it was all a lie. I didn’t mean it. I-I do love you-”

“You don’t need to lie to me now to spare my feelings,” he stared at the ground before slowly opening the door to the bustling bar back open, “if that’s how you feel it’s how you feel. I just...I should have known better. I was the fool, not you.”

“Francisco, don’t go,” you darted towards him but he was already inside and weaving his way through the crowd, barely acknowledging your friends as he made to leave, “Frankie! Frankie! Don’t do - don’t walk away. It was a lie to get her off my back and because I….”

“Because what?” he turned around, and the look on his face was enough to break your heart then and there. His cheeks were already tear stained and his eyes were nothing but hurt, as you struggled to find the right words. After a few beats of tense silence, he shrugged, “I’ll see you around, Bee. Eventually...I just need some time to deal with my own feelings. I’m sorry I thought there could ever be more between us.”

“Francisco,” his name was a pitiful whimper as you watched him get into his truck and start, leaving without hesitation. Your hands flew to your face as you stood there in panic, “what have I done?”

“Bee?” Benny came up behind you, confused as he looked between you and the spot Frankie was previously parked in, “what happened? Is everything alright?”

“I think I just fucked everything up,” you admitted as you let him pull you into a hug, “I think I just lost the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“He’ll come around,” Benny promised, although it felt hollow, “it’s Fish. You know he will.”

“I hope so,” you cried, “I sure hope so.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fem!reader

263 notes · View notes

idw-sonic-fan-blog · 3 years

Text

The Mandates

Just wanted to share my thoughts on the pro-ported mandates because they cast a shadow on this comic.

“Game characters cannot have relatives unless they were estabilished in the game canon, i.e. Cream and her mother.”

This one is understandable and you can blame Penders for this. Mind you that most licensed comics of gaming franchises don’t actually delve too much in personal family relationships or expand on them. So this is expected and honestly Sega should have put the screws on Archie decades ago about this.

“Game characters can not die. There are workarounds for this, such as being Mistaken for Dying or "Mistaken For Dead”

Again. Yes. Not a big deal.

“Game characters cannot have wardrobe changes unless approved. Chao Races and Badnik Bases has some characters (mainly the female game characters) wear different clothes for extreme conditions. Male characters remain the same.”

This is a useless rule but whatever. I mean Sega, you are the ones putting bad wardrobe choices on the characters so again it’s whatever.

“Sonic can't be shown getting too emotional (i.e;cry)”

This is one that it complained about because it really wouldn’t matter unless it is called attention to. A lot of superheroes don’t cry. But that doesn’t prohibit them from expressing themselves. IDW Sonic has been sad. He has been pissed. He has been furious.

Is this not too emotional?

Is he not expressing himself appropriately?

I don’t even know why this is brought up. When in this comic has Sonic not been expressive or displaying the appropriate amount of emotion? When did Sonic needing to cry be necessary?

“Game characters cannot enter in a relationship.”

Oh GOD YES. Don’t threaten me with a good time.

“All major Character Development must be approved by SEGA.”

Yeah, of course. Let me remind you that Penders and Archie ruined any strand of trust Sega could have in comic media. They played loose at first and all of the sudden, they are involved in a lawsuit about characters in a Sonic comic that they didn’t even know about. They probably lost a video game business relationship because of it. If they want to be involved in the comics, fine. That means that they are now forced to World Build. They have to invest in it now and not just be like Lucas Films and let anybody do anything with their flagship title.

“Much like the post-reboot of the Archie comic, the words "Mobius" is banned—the planet is simply called "Sonic's World". Unlike the Post-Boot, which allowed the names "Mobian" and "Mobini", anything related to Mobius is banned in this comic.”

…Of course but how about you throw the writer’s a bone and I don’t know, name the fucking planet. If it is not Earth, give it a name.

“Sonic must always win at the end. Even if he and his friends are at the losing end in an overarching story (the Metal Virus arc, for example), they must come out on top when it concludes.”

I don’t even get this rule and the knee jerk hatred for it. Why even have it? Why even share the existence of this rule? Archie Sonic didn’t really lose too bad. It’s more on how you frame a victory. The fact of the matter is that Eggman is still actively trying to conquer the planet. Sonic stops him but Eggman still has control of land and has military installations all over.

This rule is offset by this. While Sonic can’t lose, Sonic can’t completely win.

“Characters and material from other licensed properties (Sonic the Comic, Sonic the Hedgehog (Archie Comics), Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic the Hedgehog (SatAM)', Sonic Underground, the OVA, Sonic X and the Paramount films cannot be used. This rule extends to characters and redesigns done by the current writers. The only exception is Sticks from Sonic Boom, and that's because she was created by SEGA themselves and showed up in non-Boom media, but any ideas regarding her use still need to be okayed by SEGA.”

First off I am glad that Sticks was spared by this rule and I look forward to her eventual inclusion. Second, again, this is not much of a big deal as it was expected. Sorry Freedom Fighter fans but honestly deal.

“Male characters, sans Eggman, can't wear pants, which was also a thing in the Post-Reboot, albeit never explicitly stated. The inverse is also true; female characters have to have some form of lower clothing.”

Okay this is a pedantic rule. It is so weird with how precise it is. Like…huh?

“Classic characters such as Mighty, Ray, Nack/Fang, Bean, and Bark won't appear in non-Classic issues, as Sega doesn't want Classic and Modern Sonic to mix.”

One of the most bullshit mandates fueled by the nostalgia boner fans created. Like this is stupid because Archie Modern Sonic has added more character and depth to all of these mentioned characters than any of the Sega Sonic games they appeared in which only amounts to 1 or 2 at most. Why neuter your own potential stories with this stupid limitation?

“According to Ian Flynn, a specific incident involving Shadow's characterization when he's exposed to the Zombot infection was written in a specific way because of Sega mandating that he be written as an "overconfident asshole rival" character, similar to Vegeta. He later followed up with an explanation that out of every character, Shadow has the most mandates and notes attached to how he's portrayed. According to the podcast, Sega says that Team Dark is no longer a thing. The three members are not a team and they have never worked for G.U.N.; Shadow also doesn't even consider them friends.”

This is my opinion is the worst rule. First it’s contradictory to the character Sega introduced us to. Stop trying to be like Dragon Ball for once and actually be your own thing. It’s one thing if we are changing it because Shadow was unpopular because of his personality. But no one likes this Shadow. People miss the somber but reserved Hedgehog that continued to fight in spite of the world betraying him. Hothead Shadow is a cheap Knuckles. And I don’t even understand why Shadow even has so many mandates when he wasn’t the most egregious offender. Knuckles was.

Also, Team Dark aren’t a thing and Shadow doesn’t even consider them to be his friends. First off that doesn’t even fly in your own games. Who outside of Sonic does Shadow interact the most? Rouge. They have teamed up and were a packaged duo since their inception. When Shadow appeared, Rouge appeared right next to him. If Rouge was in a game, so was Shadow.

Team Dark or just Rouge has fought alongside Shadow in every game they appeared in. Who else does Shadow talk to if not Rouge?

“Sega has stated to Flynn that only male hedgehogs are allowed to go Super with the Chaos Emeralds.”

Except in Sonic Mania.

“Ian isn't allowed to directly reference a game, since the comic is supposed to be its own thing.”

Okay. Not only is this rule stupid. But it’s untrue.

This references the end of Sonic Forces.

The first page of comic.

It has referenced Sonic Adventure, SA2, Sonic Generations , and Sonic Unleashed.

This referencing Shadow the Hedgehog.

I don’t believe this rule exists and even if it did, it is dumbest rule since the whole point of this comic is to base it off the games more. The dumbest rule.

“Knuckles is not allowed to leave Angel Island unless he has a very good reason to.”

For decades, people have complained that Knuckles routinely leaves the island. For decades. Now does this mean Sega is going to 1. Use Knuckles and 2. Amplify the importance of Angel Island and the Master Emerald? No. Again, this criticism should be levied at Sega because they often conveniently forget Knuckles purpose and just hand wave it instead of giving Knuckles more to do on the island like I don’t know, have other entities invested in attacking him.

In summary, here is what I think is going on. Do I think most of these mandates are real? Yes. Given what happened to Archie, I do think Sega is doing some brand alignment. I think they got the clamps on.

But what I think is going on is a Japanese cultural thing called Power Harassment. It is normalized abuse of power. Sega of Japan is normally laxxed about their brands. They don’t mind blatant rip-offs of their mascot nor do they get stiff about fandom creations or mods. The comic division, however, is getting tough love because not only did it cost them a publishing deal, but ruined a relationship with a high end developer. So the IDW writers and staff are being subjected to intentionally hypocritical rules and strict mandates that they know don’t make sense until they’ve shown to be obedient.

A lot of the mandates aren’t strict. But some are so asinine that I don’t think they aren’t aware with how stupid they sound imposing those rules. Like Shadow is the most narratively complete Sonic character and yet, Sega puts this tight mandate as if Archie Shadow was the most egregious thing. Archie Shadow was overpowered. He wasn’t out of character like Sonic, Knuckles, and Tails were. They can’t be that stupid or be that intentionally dense. So they want to see if the writing crew can follow orders. That’s it.

But that’s just my take.

#idw sonic #sonic the hedgehog

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littlegnoblin · 4 years

Text

Happy Valentine’s Day to my best friend and other half @donestiel

read on ao3

Dean comes home from work to find Cas and Jack sitting at the table, red heart-shaped lollipops strewn in front of them.

He gives Cas a quick kiss. “You trying to give the kid a sugar rush or what?”

“Daddy! It’s for Valemtime’s Day!” Jack yells excitedly, hopping off his chair to hug Dean’s legs.

“It’s pronounced valentine, Jack.”

“I don’t know, valemtime kinda has a nice ring to it,” Dean says. Jack beams up at him and he can’t help but ruffle his hair.

“Yes, well, the holiday has become so bastardized that I suppose renaming it wouldn’t hurt.” Cas squints at the box the candy came in. “Does no one find it odd that their children are passing around cards demanding others belong to them?”

Dean sits down and pulls Jack into his lap, flipping through the little pink cards. “I don’t know that you’re supposed to think about it that hard, dude.” He comes across a card that reads ‘kiss me’ and holds it up. “This, on the other hand-- they’re five, what the hell do they need to be kissin’ for?”

“I want kisses!” Jack protests.

“You’re a little kiss monster.” Cas leans in and presses a big, exaggerated smooch to Jack’s cheek. “How was that? Did it satisfy the beast?”

Jack giggles and nods enthusiastically.

“Hey, I’m gonna need to sample one of those kisses myself. Make sure they’re regulation-- standard procedure.”

“Is that right?”

“‘Fraid so,” Dean says with a shit eating grin.

He’s expecting a goofy kiss like the one he gave Jack but Cas uses his thumb to tilt Dean’s chin just so and kisses him deeply.

They break apart when two tiny hands push at their faces and Jack tells them to knock it off.

“This is what Valentine’s Day is all about, champ. Besides, I thought you liked kisses.”

“You guys do it gross.”

Dean smiles and bounces his eyebrows at Cas, who rolls his eyes but can’t hide the small curl of his mouth.

“Perhaps your father will help you write your classmates’ names on the cards while I get dinner ready.”

“I can cook,” Dean says quickly. The thought of Cas’ last attempt at cooking has his stomach churning and he’s pretty sure feeding that toxic waste to Jack would be considered child abuse.

Cas holds up a cardboard box. “It’s frozen pizza.”

“Alright, I’ll do babysitting duty. Just make sure you take the plastic off this time.”

“It’s not babysitting when it’s your own child and that was one time.”

“One time too many,” Dean mutters.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing, dear.”

Cas glares at him. “I expect you to eat a healthy portion of salad along with your pizza tonight.”

“You making it yourself or is it bagged?”

The glare intensifies.

Jack tugs on his sleeve. “Daddy, did you like doing valentine’s stuff in school?”

“Nah, it, uh-- it wasn’t really a thing when I was your age.”

That’s a blatant lie but Dean’s not going to tell him the truth and bum him out. What five year old wants to hear that their dad didn’t do Valentine’s Day exchanges because there was barely enough money for food, let alone candy, and he never really stuck around any school long enough to get included in the holiday stuff. Shit’s depressing.

“So you never got no cards or nothin’?”

“Nope.” Dean never got cards but he did get invited under the bleachers a few times in high school to unwrap a different kind of present. He’s not telling him that either, though.

“That sucks. Can I have a lollipop?”

“Nice try, kid.” Dean taps on the card in front of them. “Get to writing.”

He oversees the careful labelling of the cards, reminding Jack to double check the list of names anytime he spells something wrong and corrects a few backwards letters. They debate who gets what card and Jack complains that he has to give one to Tom who keeps cutting him in line.

Cas rejoins them in the middle of Jack’s impassioned rant, hiding his smile behind his hand.

“While I agree that Tom is a-- what was it you called him?”

“A butthead.”

“Yes, right, a butthead. While I agree he is a butthead, unfortunately I think you need to be the bigger person. Maybe this will even convince him to stop cutting in line and you two can be friends.”

“No way. I don’t wanna be friends with Tom.”

“You never know,” Dean says. “I didn’t like your dad when we first met, but I think he’s a pretty okay guy now.”

Jack looks at him wide eyed. “You didn’t like Daddy?”

“No way, he was a butthead.”

“It was more of a misunderstanding,” Cas explains.

“Oh is that what we’re calling it?”

Cas lifts an eyebrow and stares him down. “What would you call it, Dean?”

Shit, that should not be so hot.

“Not the point; the point is that I didn’t think I would ever like your dad and now we’re married. Things change.”

Jack furrows his brows, considering. “I don’t want to marry Tom.”

Dean snorts. “You don’t have to. In fact, please don’t. His mom is a nightmare.” Cas kicks him under the table. “What! She is!”

“You don’t have to marry him and you don’t have to be friends with him,” Cas says, ignoring Dean completely, “but you do have to give him a card and some candy.”

Jack grumbles but does as he’s told. Dean’s legs are starting to fall asleep but he’s become increasingly aware of how fast Jack is growing up and soon-- way too fucking soon, if you ask him-- he won’t be sitting in his lap at all so he silently resigns to not feeling his legs for the next ten minutes.

“All done!” Jack yells and throws his hands in the air.

“Sweet, now let's stick some candy in these bad boys and call it a night.”

“Wait, there’s a extra, what should I do with it?”

“Is there anyone who’s not in your class that you’d like to give a valentine to?”

Jack gasps and slaps a hand over Dean’s eyes, nearly poking one out in the process. “Close your eyes, Daddy!”

Dean dutifully closes his eyes until Jack tells him he’s finished. He slowly opens one eye and sees the pink card held about an inch from his face.

“For me?” he gasps dramatically.

“Yes!”

The front of the card reads ‘You’re the best!’ and when he opens it, he finds ‘Daddy’ written in some of the neatest handwriting from Jack he’s ever seen. Beneath it he’s signed his name, the K backwards like it always is on his first try.

“I gave it to you because you never had one before and also you’re the best daddy ever, who makes me yummy chocolate chip pancakes and cheeseburgers and does funny voices for bedtime stories,” Jack explains.

Dean wraps his arms around his son and rests his cheek on top of his head, his heart feeling fit to burst. “Thank you, Jack. I’m gonna keep this forever.” And he means it.

“Welcome. Can I have a lollipop now?”

Cas points at Dean. “He gets that from you.”

After the valentines are carefully put away and they’ve had dinner (plastic free and edible, which Cas seems proud of), Jack gets a bath and is tucked in bed. Dean and Cas spend the rest of the night sprawled out on the couch watching reruns of Doctor Sexy and drinking beer. Party city.

When the Doctor Sexy reruns switch to Jeopardy, Dean knows it’s officially midnight.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, I guess.”

They tip their bottles together.

“I hope I didn’t disappoint you by not planning anything,” Cas says, picking at the label on his beer.

“What? No, of course not. We never do anything. I thought we were on the same page about avoiding that shit after our first Valentine’s together.”

They both shudder thinking about the sweaty cupid ‘handshake’.

“We are, but we never actually discussed it and I…” Cas pauses and tilts his head. “I think having Jack around and seeing the world through his eyes, experiencing things in a new way, it makes me wonder if we’re not missing out on some of the little things.”

“Hey, we appreciate lots of the little things-- like you not cooking frozen pizza with the plastic still on.”

“Dean.”

“Okay, okay. So you sayin’ you wanna celebrate now?”

“Sam and Eileen do.”

“Sam and Eileen are saps. And they don’t have a five year old running around.”

Cas makes a sound of agreement and softly strokes the back of Dean’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. “You make a fair point. In all honesty, I don’t want to do anything extravagant but I would like to take the opportunity to remind you how much I love you. Am I allowed to be sappy for a moment?”

Dean clears his throat. “Yeah, I guess you deserve one day to get it all out.” He puts their bottles down and faces his husband. “Lay it on me, big guy.”

Instead of looking annoyed, Cas just looks fond. “You know, it’s ironic that a man as full of love as you are is so quick to dismiss any sentimentality. You are a fascinating creature.” A thumb sweeps under his eye where he’s got permanent dark circles and settles at the corner where his lines get deeper every day. It makes Dean want to squirm but he holds still under the reverent touch. “Perhaps that’s why I never stood a chance.”

“C’mon, man,” Dean says, dropping his eyes to the couch.

“Hush, I’m allowed, I’ll have you know. My husband gave me explicit permission.”

“Well, your husband is thinking about rescinding the offer.”

“I love you.”

Cas says it with such conviction that Dean can’t help but look back at him, at his bright eyes and soft smile; at the evidence of his love written all over his face.

“I love you, endlessly, Dean Winchester. For everything that you are; the good and the bad. From the moment I saw your soul in hell, so bright it was almost blinding, I knew I would never be the same. You breathed life into me, gave me meaning and purpose, taught me the value of love, and you did it all, selflessly, simply by being the man that you are.” Cas draws him close, presses their foreheads together. “I can never give back all that you’ve given me but I promise you will have my love until we are nothing but a forgotten memory, and longer still.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and they breath together in the small space between them.

“You can’t-- you can’t just say shit like that,” he whispers.

“And why not?”

“Because it’s not true, first of all.” Cas opens his mouth to argue but Dean covers it with his hand and hurries on. “You’ve already given all of that back and more. God, Cas, if it weren’t for you I’d have been dead years ago. I needed to stick around-- to take care of Sammy, to stop whatever or whoever was trying to end the world next-- but you… you made me want to live. Really live, not just survive, you know? I fuckin’ love you, man.”

Cas pushes Dean’s hand away and presses his lips against Dean’s fervently.

When they finally break apart for desperately needed air, they both pretend they aren’t sniffling like little girls.

“You happy now? Can we go back to not doing this?”

Cas laughs. “I hadn’t planned on making it quite so emotional, I apologize. You always bring out the most in me.”

“Ugh, enough,” Dean groans, shoving Cas’ smiling face away. “You aren’t allowed to say anything even approaching romantic for the next twenty four hours, capiche?”

“I can agree to that, as long as I’m allowed to give you a gift later.”

“I thought you said you didn’t plan anything?”

“It’s nothing big.” Cas’ fingers sneak under Dean’s shirt and trail along his stomach, dipping to his waistband. “I just happened to walk by Victoria’s Secret and see a pair of pink satin panties in the window.”

Dean’s heart beats a little faster. “Oh yeah?” he says breathlessly. “Not gonna lie, that seems more like a present for you.”

Cas hums and leans over Dean, forcing him to lie back on the couch. “Well then I suppose I’ll just have to do whatever you want while you wear them.”

When he kisses him he tastes like cherry candy and Dean thinks could learn to like this holiday.

#spn #destiel #deancas #bend-me-shape-me #sweatercas #rambleoncas #acklesy #alivedean #userpris #usersila #goodthingsclara #shelikestv #hope you guys dont mind me tagging you!!!#sarah writes

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elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

Weather the Storm

An Overboard Addition

For @the-darkdragonfly because it’s her birthday!!!!!!!

What started as a fluffy little addition to Overboard, one of my more popular fics that Kay loves, became something… angsty as heck. But not to worry, there’s more where this came from.

There are brief mentions of miscarriage in this piece. Please take care of yourself and remember you’re always welcome to message me with questions.

Thank you endlessly to @donteattheappleshook for beta-ing this

Rated E

~8600 words

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

~~~~

Emma pulls the cable knit sweater over her head and smoothes it over her hips, noting the way it falls perfectly just above her ass in her tight jeans and smirking at her reflection in the mirror. Killian loves when she wears his clothes, and she can’t wait to drive him mad in front of his crew for the entire day.

“ Bloody hell ,” he breathes as he walks into their bedroom, stopping short with his hand on the door handle. She smirks again, turning to face him with a smile.

“Like my outfit?”

“You stole my sweater,” he accuses, although she can see the way the corner of his lips tick up with a small smile he tries to fight off.

“The cream color matches so well with these black jeans. Don’t you think?”

Stepping towards her, he shakes his head as he eyes her up and down. “I must say, I agree.”

“Hmm,” she hums with false pensivity, pouting her lip. “You don’t look very happy.”

Wrapping his hands over her waist, he pulls her close to himself until his hips press against hers and she can feel that he is, in fact, quite happy. “Perhaps that’s because my beautiful wife is trying to make me late for work.”

She giggles as their lips collide, his hands sliding up the back of her sweater so that she can feel the cold metal of his new wedding band chilling her skin. Her giggling subsides when his tongue slides against her, the sweet, bitter taste of his morning coffee waking her senses and making her fingers tighten around the hair at the nape of his neck.

She grinds her hips against his hardening length, causing him to groan as his grip on her tightens, bringing her even closer to him and making her want to shed the cozy sweater she borrowed and toss him onto the bed they share. “Killian,” she breathes into his mouth desperately, scratching her fingers down into the black and silver hair on his chest.

He bites on her bottom lip before pulling away, effectively making her head spin at the loss of contact between them. “You can’t trick me again, temptress. It’s time to leave.”

“ Trick you?! When have I ever tricked you?”

Pointing a finger at her, he eyes her down suspiciously and says, “A lady as tantalizing and mysterious as you must certainly be some manner of siren, or vixen, or--”

She cuts him off with a kiss, pulling at the collar of his sweater with her greedy fingers. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not a bloody mermaid. I love you. ”

She feels him sigh, his breath washing over her face in a soothing warmth, and he nods. “Aye. I suppose I sometimes just can’t wrap my head around how lucky I am to be married to the most beautiful woman in the world.”

With another hum, she closes her eyes and presses a final, soft kiss to his lips. “Well, get used to it, buddy. You’re never getting rid of me.”

“Good.”

“Now, hurry up. You’ve made us late.”

~~~~

“Good morning, wife,” Will greets cheerfully, dropping a chaste kiss to Emma’s cheek and shooting Killian a smirk and waggling brows. “I sure am excited to have you on board with us.”

“Me too,” Emma smiles. “I think I’ll be your good luck charm. How many are we catching?”

“If we don’t catch three, you may not be invited back,” Robin jokes.

With a scoff and a roll to her eyes, she says, “Please. As if you have any say. My husband can’t say no to me.”

“Can’t blame him,” Will agrees.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Killian mumbles as he drops the bag they brought into his quarters. “There’d better be bait on this deck.”

“Aye, Captain. Caught it meself this morning while you and the wife were--“

Killian laughs when he realizes what’s happened; when he sees the small heron flopping across the deck upon Emma throwing it at Will, successfully shutting him up.

The sun shines brightly against her skin, causing her cheeks to pink as she lounges on the bow, giving him a distracting view as he tries to navigate through the sea of weekend fishermen to his favorite secluded spot. Sure, she’s still fully dressed, but something about seeing her in his sweater makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and his jeans feel tight.

“No funny business while we’re on board, aye Captain?”

Killian grumbles inaudibly in Will’s direction, rolling his eyes, and demands, “All the lines had best be out, Scarlet.”

“Aye, all but the ones on the bow. Don’t want to disturb the beauty.”

“Stop looking at my bloody wife,” he grumbles, earning a smirk from his deckhand.

He meets her later, when Will and Robin have completed their tasks and find themselves lounging on the deck waiting for a bite. His heart flutters when he watches her turn towards him, a beaming smile decorating her face and the color of her eyes catching the sun. He smiles back, crawling across the small, slightly slippery expanse of the deck. “You look nice and warm.”

“You look nice.”

He chuckles softly at her blatant flirting as he moves to lie beside her on the deck. “May I join you?”

“Please do.”

She’s quick to move beside him, the towel she brought to lounge on scrunching between them as she curls up to his side. She smells of sea and sunscreen and something that’s so painfully her that his arms move involuntarily to wrap around her, his lips pressing a firm and longing kiss to her temple. “I’m glad you came,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible to even himself over the sound of the crashing waves.

“Me too,” she agrees. “It’s nice. Your job doesn’t seem too hard.”

“Oh, aye?” he laughs, rolling her so that she’s on her back beneath him, cognizant not to throw them overboard. He knows she’s joking; she knows how difficult and dangerous his work can be. But her playfulness is impossible to ignore. “About as easy as being the Sheriff, I’m sure.”

She giggles under the weight of him, her grin beaming in the sun until he consumes it with his own lips. He slides his tongue along her bottom lip, suddenly taken by the comfort that being with her brings him. The gentle touch of her wandering hands sliding up his back, pushing his sweater away, sends a shiver down his spine. The cold weight of the white gold rings on her finger reminds him of how far they’ve come. She’s his wife .

“You know,” she growls against his mouth, “The waves will probably have a very interesting effect when we do it later.”

He bites down on her bottom lip, just a bit harder than he means to and drawing from her a whine and giggle all at once. “And what have you done to deserve that?”

“I’m your good luck charm,” she says confidently against the shell of his ear, one hand sliding from his rear to the front of his trousers and squeezing until he breathlessly ruts against her palm. He’s always awestruck by her, but the way she can make him behave like this despite knowing that his mates are just on the other deck makes him feel like a teenager again. “You’re gonna catch big today, baby. I can feel it.”

“Aye, you’ll feel it alright.”

Her laughter rings through his ears again, but the blissful sound is interrupted by the raucous shouts of his mates announcing the small blips on their radar. They’re marking fish, several tuna swimming beneath his boat, and it kills him to pull away from her in favor of checking the bait and praying for a hookup.

“We’re on!” Will screams excitedly, and he can hear the scream of the reel being pulled out by a sea monster.

Emma scurries from beneath him, hastily hurrying towards the starboard side so that she can head back towards the deck. She’s always excited to see him work, to see what goes into his livelihood, and she’s made him promise to let her reel at least once.

Will jumps on the reel while Robin pulls in the others, careful not to allow the lines to tangle, and Emma stands beside the wheel while Killian steers. He needs to stay on top of the fish so that they don’t run out of line, he explains, and she watches his careful and diligent movements, his sweater dampened by the ocean spray and clinging to the muscles in his shoulders. She can’t help but bite her lip.

He asks her to take the wheel and she’s nervous, worried that her screwup could mean their loss. But he directs her perfectly, telling her when to put the boat into neutral and when to reverse, where to steer and when. Eventually, Robin shouts that he can see the fish, and her eyes bug out of her head at the sheer size of it. She’s seen plenty of tuna at the docks, many of them several feet longer than she is tall, but to see one in the water is stunning.

Killian takes the harpoon in his grip, lining it up and setting his jaw tightly in concentration. His brows draw close together, his empty arm lifting in front of him so that he can visualize the course to his target, and in a move that’s almost too quick to comprehend, he draws his chest and shoulder back and launches the harpoon into the water, grunting deeply as he strikes.

Her cheeks go red.

Her husband is so damn hot.

They work together to hoist the beast onto the deck, it’s sheer size and weight overpowering and breathtaking. They measure its length, and Robin calls out that the fish is 112 inches, a record for the Jolly Roger .

“You are lucky,” Killian laughs, pointing at her playfully as he stands. He bounds towards her, scooping her up and spinning her carefully as Will and Robin groan quietly. She giggles as he kisses her everywhere, his lips landing on her cheeks, her nose, her lips… she can’t get enough of the love he has for her.

They catch one more fish while she’s sunbathing, their joyous, celebratory shouting music to her ears as she listens to the sounds of her husband’s success. Neither of them have very conventional jobs, but she couldn’t be prouder of him, of them , for making a life together that they can both take pride in.

He worried when she took the job as sheriff, the last one being killed in the line of duty not settling his nerves one bit. It was the fuel for one of their first fights as a couple, a few months before their intimate beach wedding. And although the argument was difficult, she never once doubted that they would work through it.

They’ve worked through plenty of things, hardly any of them actual disagreements. The one thing she worried may have caused turmoil between them turned out to be nothing at all. Her shy confession that she’s never desired to have children was met with unconditional understanding and kindness, his words nearly drawing tears to her eyes each time she thinks back on them.

“ I planned on spending the remainder of my life alone. I never really had an opinion either way. I’ll be the happiest man alive if I just get to spend the rest of my days with you.”

They married mere months later, her parents and brother on her side and his mates on his. She would’ve been happy enough to have it just be them and them alone, but he reminded her of what being there would mean for her family. Calling them that still sits strangely with her to this day, but ever since she and her father opened up to one another, her relationship with her parents has been much improved.

All she ever wanted was love and understanding. She has that, and so much more, with her husband, and there’s really nothing more she could ask for.

~~~~

The sun’s nearly set by the time they make it to the docks, Emma’s father waiting for them and giving a friendly wave when he sees them approaching. Her arms slink around his middle while he steers them towards the dock, head resting on the sore space between his shoulder blades. She pushes a firm kiss there, then another, her fingers clinging to his sweater as he shuts off the engine.

He lets out a soft, gentle chuckle when she kisses his neck just below his ear, knowing she must be on her toes and just barely able to reach. She isn’t especially short, not much shorter than he is, but the way he can envelope her in his arms sends happy warmth through his veins. She kisses the space between his shoulder blades and scratches against his stomach as he navigates next to the dock and waits for Will to tie them off.

“Got two big ones for ya, Dave!” Will shouts when they arrive, and Emma kisses his back once more before pulling away to greet her father. Standing at the wheel, they aren't in David’s direct line of sight, and for that, Killian’s grateful. He can’t ever get enough of his wife’s touch, but he also doesn’t love the idea of her father watching them. “112 incher! Gotta be a thousand pounder!”

“Let’s see,” he returns as Emma steps onto the dock, taking her father’s hand for support.

“Hey,” she says as she leans in for a hug. It’s taken her a while, but she’s known her parents for over a year now, and she’s finally starting to become more comfortable with them. It was difficult at first, knowing that she was given up and replaced by her younger brother a few years later. But she and her parents have had a series of eye-opening conversations, and she’s found herself more and more willing to accept the love that they want to give her with each passing day.

She’s grown increasingly closer to her father over the last few months, finding that his unconditional acceptance of her warms her heart in ways that she never expected. Truthfully, despite being raised by a mother who loved her endlessly, having her father in her life changed everything. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Good day?” he asks when he releases her.

“Very good. I’m good luck.”

“Of course you are,” he chuckles, turning on the crane so that they can lift the massive fish out of the boat. Once it’s dressed, it weighs in at just over 800 pounds, Will and Robin shouting and high fiving each other and Killian gently resting his chin on her shoulder from behind to press a kiss to her cheek in quiet celebration. She doesn’t miss his grin, the one that carves deep lines into his cheeks and the sides of his eyes, and all she wants to do is turn around and hold him tight, never content to let him go.

They’re offered a hefty price tag for their catch, the smaller of the two weighing almost 500 pounds, and each of them celebrate with more high fives and hugs. Once the boat is cleaned, Killian sends Robin and Will home early for their hard work. She finds her place behind him again as he drives the boat through the harbor, navigating expertly through other boats and docks until he finds his place at the dock just outside of the home they share.

“We have to go to dinner tonight,” she remarks when the engine stops and a calm silence settles over them both. “My mom is cooking.”

“Aye, love,” he agrees softly, turning to face her and placing both hands on her hips. She lets her fingers trail along his jaw, combing gently through the hair spread across his face that’s getting too long to be considered stubble.

“I like this,” she whispers.

“You don’t think it makes me look like an old man? I haven't shaved in days.”

With a coy smile, she says, “I didn't say it doesn't make you look like an old man, I just happen to like my silver fox of a husband.”

He hums doubtfully, rolling his eyes and giving her a shy smirk that makes it impossible for her to stop herself from pressing onto her toes and kissing him. His beard scratches against her chin when they deepen it simultaneously, the burn delicious and enough for her to crave his mouth everywhere , but they don’t have time. He has to finish putting the boat away and she has to head to her parent’s house to help with dinner. The knowledge that the honeymoon is truly over sets in, and she pouts when they break apart.

“I love you,” he whispers, his forehead pressed to hers and his breath washing over tingling lips.

He can never fail to make her heart race in her chest, beating so forcefully against her ribs that she’s relying on the strength of his arms to hold her up. “I love you, too,” she whispers back, letting her eyes flutter shut against the wind whipping against their hair and in response to the sudden and palpable tension between them. It’s begging to be broken, each of them craving the touch of the other, needing to express their love for each other however they can, but there’s no time. “How long will it take you to clean up here?”

“No more than an hour.”

“We don’t have to stay at my parents’ long,” she murmurs, her lips nearly touching his with each word. All she wants is to be with him. It isn’t just a sexaul desire that she has for him; she needs to be with him. She needs to be touching him. She can’t stand to be apart from him, or to sit in a room with him and not be touching him.

“It’s alright, my love,” he whispers. “Being with your family is important. Despite how desperately I crave you, I'm willing to wait.”

“You might be, but I'm certainly not.”

He laughs loudly, the sound of his glee cutting through the noisy waves and making her heart soar and her grin grow painfully. “I’ll meet you there. I won’t be long; I promise to make quick work of the old girl.”

She nods, kissing him chastely despite her desires and humming in agreement. “As long as you promise not to make quick work of your decidedly much younger girl.”

“You make me sound like a predator,” he laughs.

“No, I told you: you’re my sexy silver fox husband and I'm your young, gorgeous trophy wife.”

“Of course, my love. Whatever you say.”

She lets out a giggle, a sound that would have been so unlike her a year ago, kisses him once more, and regretfully pulls away from him. “I love you,” she says again. “I’ll see you in an hour. I’ll be the one looking devastatingly beautiful.”

“As usual.”

~~~~

“Your dad called,” Mary Margaret announced once they had gotten settled, each of them standing side by side preparing dinner. Emma has been put on chopping duty, and she’s decidedly avoiding the onions. “He said Killian made out very well today. That’s great.”

“Yeah, they did really well. Two fish were over a thousand pounds.”

“Wow,” she smiles, stirring the pasta after pouring it into the boiling water. “That’s impressive. You guys will have a nice nest egg soon enough.”

Emma purses her lips as she finishes chopping a carrot, nodding slowly and unsurely. “I guess. I mean, we both have savings.”

“Oh, I know,” her mother says, taking the chopped carrot and tossing it into a skillet as Emma starts working on the cursed onion. “I meant more for… extra expenses,” she clarifies unhelpfully, giving Emma a presumptuous smile.

She stays quiet for a few moments, trying to consider her mother’s words but letting confusion take over as she tosses the onion into the skillet and Mary Margaret adds olive oil. Moving to the sink to wash her hands, she says, “I mean, we’re happy at the cottage. Maybe Killian would want a new boat soon.”

With a soft giggle as she tosses the vegetables together, Marg Margaret adds a can of tomatoes, causing a raucous sizzle. “Honey, I was referring to… I mean… maybe a baby is in our future? I can’t wait to be a grandma!”

Emma chokes on her own breath, reaching for her glass of wine and taking a generous swig. “Well, grandma, we’ll have to ask Leo to hurry up.”

“Leo,” she laughs, shaking her head. “He’s too young. You, on the other hand, are happily married and at prime child bearing age.”

“Mom…” Emma starts, laughing awkwardly. “I’m not having kids.”

The horror with which she drops her spatula into the skillet, as if what Emma just said is the most unbelievable piece of information she’s ever heard, sends a wave of anger through her veins. The complete shock in her mother’s face at her desire not to bring a child into this world makes Emma’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

Mary Margaret had a baby and gave her away. How could she expect her daughter, the very one who was left abandoned for years, to have a child herself?

Emma’s never wanted kids. She’s always felt this way, like if she had a baby and something happened to her, they would grow up exactly like she did. How could she bring a baby into the world and risk putting them through what she went through?

How could her own mother not understand that?

“You’re not?”

“No,” she answers definitively, the set of her jaw almost painful.

“Oh,” she says with a soft nod. She adds beef to her bolognese in silence, a thick tension settling in the room.

The quiet is awkward, and the longer it lasts, the angrier Emma feels. It’s because she knows what Mary Margaret is thinking. She knows that she’s hurt by Emma’s announcement that she doesn’t plan on having children with her husband. She’s having trouble believing it; she’s struggling to see why Emma wouldn’t want to experience the joys of motherhood.

It’s annoying, and it’s making Emma angry, but nothing compares to the rage that waves through her when Mary Margaret speaks again.

“Does Killian know?”

Her eyes bug out of her head, the glass she was holding dropping onto the countertop too loudly. “ What?”

“I just… I wondered if he agreed…”

“We’re married, ” she answers immediately. Her voice is low, almost a growl in her throat as she tries to stay calm.

“I know, I just…”

“You just thought that maybe I tricked him into marrying me? Maybe I didn’t tell him my foolish idea to stay childless until after we’d tied the knot? You thought that my desire to spend the rest of my life with my husband and with the freedom of not having kids comes second to a man wanting an heir?”

“ Emma, I never--”

“You didn’t have to! You didn’t have to say a thing. Did you really think we wouldn’t discuss something like this before we even got engaged?”

With a sigh, she says, “Sweetheart, of course. I misspoke. I’m sorry. I was just surprised.”

“Surprised?” she asks, trying to calm her voice.

“I mean… I just figured you two would want that. It seems like a natural next step.” Emma’s quiet for a moment, making herself even out her breath and preparing to respond calmly before her mother speaks again. “And I’ve seen how happy Killian seems to be around little Alexandra.”

She feels her heart rate picking up again, and she forces herself to take a moment, having a sip of wine before responding. “So, you’re saying he couldn’t possibly be happy unless I pop out a few kids?”

“Oh, honey… that’s not--”

Her answer is too slow. She can’t defend herself immediately or easily, and that’s all Emma needed to know.

“Okay, I get it,” she says quietly just as David opens the door followed closely by Leo.

“Everything okay?” her father asks

“Great,” she grumbles sarcastically. “Enjoy dinner.”

“Emma!”

She doesn’t turn back, grabbing her wallet and moving past her brother without so much as a word, ignoring her mother’s pleas for her to stay with them. With her family. She can’t.

~~~~

It had only been forty minutes by the time he finished, proud of himself for making such quick work of cleaning his vessel. The image of his stunning wife sitting across from him at the dinner table, surrounded by the family she never thought she’d have, was enough motivation for him to hurry up and meet her.

At least, he thought that was his plan, until he hears angry footsteps stalking against his dock and he knows there’s no other person they can belong to other than his fiery wife. She has a penchant for heated anger, and the sounds she’s making are unmistakable. He only pities whomever put her in such a state, and prays that it wasn’t him.

She reaches the edge of the dock, hands in fists on her hips and jaw set tensely as she stares down at him. “What’s wrong, my love?” he asks, hearing her barely-audible growl in response.

She stalks onto the boat, jumping the few feet onto the deck, and approaches him quickly. Before he knows what hits him, her lips are on his, tackling him against the wheel of the boat and making him thankful that the engine is off.

Her fingers find the hem of his sweater, easily tugging it over his head and exposing his bare arms to the chilly harbor air. He lets out a surprised grunt when her hands land on his stomach under his shirt, scratching through the smattering of hair lower and lower until she grasps his belt and pulls his hips against hers. “Love,” he grumbles against her mouth, and as he opens his lips to speak, her tongue finds his.

She deftly undoes his buckle, humming into his mouth and pushing him until his back is against the exterior wall of the cabin, her hands moving from his belt up to his chest beneath his shirt. A groan escapes her throat through their tangled lips as she lets her palms explore, moving from his chest around to his back and sliding down until she can tug his shirt off, too. He shivers, partially against the cold but mostly in response to her.

“Emma,” he tries again as she drops lower, her tongue swirling against his nipple as her fingers undo the button and zipper of his jeans. “Baby--”

She bites him, making him hiss and surely leaving a mark. “I need you,” she says once she’s looking up at him, her eyes dark and desperate. “Now.”

“Bloody hell,” he breathes as she drops to her knees, lifting her own shirt off and exposing her hardened nipples to the bite of the evening air. She pulls his jeans down effortlessly, his cock springing to attention responsively despite her surprise attack, and he feels his pulse quickening as she bites her lip at the sight of him.

“Fuck,” she says before licking a long strip up to the tip, sucking it into the heat of her mouth. He shudders, his hands finding her hair and tangling into it, trying hard not to take control. She whimpers when he hits the back of her throat, her eyes meeting his in the dim moonlight.

His head falls back against the window when he sees her stirring on her knees, tucking a hand into her leggings and swirling it over her clit. He’s suddenly consumed with a need for her, a need to taste her, to hear her sing for him. He pulls on her hair and she moans around him, making him pant and tug once more before she releases him with a smirk on her swollen lips. “What is it?” she asks, her voice rough in her throat.

Breathless, he shakes his head minutely, intent to find out what’s gotten into her eventually, but also just as intent to be the thing that’s gotten into her and suddenly not feeling very patient about it. He releases his grip on her hair and moves his palms to her cheeks, brushing them with his thumbs before encouraging her to stand again. “Off with these,” he insists in a growl, pulling on the elastic waistband of her leggings as she stands and letting it snap against the small of her back. She yelps playfully, finally smiling and letting out the soft giggle that he always craves, pushing her obvious anger to the side for a moment.

“Aye aye, Captain,” she murmurs, catching his lips with hers again and swirling her tongue against his just as she had done against the tip of his cock. It makes a shiver run up his spine.

He hums, the sound rumbling through his chest, and says, “Ah, so it’s the Captain you want?” as his fingers find her sopping core.

“I need you,” she returns desperately. Her nails dig into the skin of his shoulders as he spins her, pushing her back against the wall he was leaning on and dropping quickly to his knees before her. He couldn’t even begin to consider not giving in to her. He needs her more than he needs to breathe, ready to drop anything at a moment's notice to pleasure her if only to be rewarded with the sinful, intoxicating sound of her moaning his name.

Her fingers cling to his hair, her hips bucking forward towards him as soon as his mouth latches onto her swollen clit, and he says exactly what he knows will make her squirm. Pushing her hips back, he chastises, “Behave, love.”

He’s met with a breathless, desperate whimper, Emma dropping her head back against the window behind her as he swirls his tongue over her. Her hips continue to dance over his mouth as if it’s impossible for her to remain still, and she pulls his hair particularly hard when he hums against her sensitive flesh. “Don’t stop,” she begs, one hand in his hair and the other bracing herself against the wheel tower. When he curls a finger into her, dragging it out against her tight walls and then thrusting back in, she lets out a shout and bucks her hips again.

He bites the flesh of her inner thigh as punishment and moves his mouth back to her core before mumbling, “Be good for me, that’s it,” and earning another moan and shudder. He feels her tightening around his finger and takes it as a cue to add another, making her cry out his name.

With a few more thrusts and strokes of his tongue, he feels her tense, her legs quivering under her own weight as she lets out a high pitched, nearly silent scream, her brows woven tightly together and her jaw dropped. She’s so stunning like this, his wife, and he has to slow his ministrations over her clit so that he can get a good look at her falling apart above him.

There’s nowhere he’d rather be.

“There’s a good girl,” he says into her sensitive flesh, earning a full-body shiver and another soft, needy hum. “Alright?”

Her chest is heaving, her breasts glowing in the moonlight under a sheen of sweat, and she shakes her head. “I need you,” she says again, dragging him up to her and falling back against the wall when he stands against her. His lips find hers easily when she drags him to her, and she hums against his mouth as her tongue explores against his.

“You’re very needy,” he agrees into her mouth, earning a nod. “And I perish the thought of not delivering.”

“Good,” she mumbles. The gasp that escapes her lips when he picks her up doesn’t stop her from locking her ankles around his hips. She groans when he slides into her, and it feels like coming home. They fit so flawlessly together, he can’t help but to groan as well and drop his head to the window she’s pressed against, his lips pressing to the top of her shoulder. “ Fuck. Don’t stop.”

This is never an easy position to be in, especially with his age and with the waves of the harbor making him unsteady on his feet. Needing to support the weight of the both of them is difficult, but the way she clenched around him makes it infinitely worth it. He’s still rather fit for his age, exercising daily through his job, and he’s always glad for it when he can elicit these sounds from his wife.

She claws at his back desperately, begging to get closer to him despite it being impossible. With each thrust, she bites onto his shoulder or sucks on the lobe of his ear or kisses his neck, a moan that must be too loud meeting each drive of his hips. He pivots his hips just slightly so that he’s certain he’s supporting her weight, then moves one hand from the back of her thigh and presses his fingers to where he knows she needs him. The action earns another clench of her muscles and a cry of pleasure, his name ringing in his ear as she calls for him and tells him she’s close.

“Harder,” she begs, and it’s a clear indication that something’s happened to upset her. She doesn’t want it like this unless she’s bothered by something. Unless she’s hurt by something. He obliges, content to let her use him for the comfort that she needs as he drives into her harder, making the boat rock and creak against the dock. He’s only glad that it’s his own private property, lest the whole town hear them.

“Killian, I’m--” her words catch in her throat as the circles he draws quicken.

“Come on, angel, come for me. I want to feel you come on my cock,” he says into her ear, knowing that his words and the whispering breath on her skin will bring her to the edge.

She bites his shoulder, most definitely leaving a mark but successfully stifling her cry as she shudders around him. He feels her muscles tensing with her orgasm and he continues his ministrations on her clit for as long as he can, reveling in the jerking movements that her release is eliciting before he can’t hold on any longer. He spills into her, cursing as he does, at the feeling of her taking everything he has to offer and clinging to him as if seeking more.

They stay still for a while, longer than he can keep track of, until his legs begin to shake under the weight of the both of them and he has to release her thigh from his grip. She drops down to the deck but doesn’t let him go, continuing to hug him close to her and nestling her head into the crook of his neck. He lifts his hand to cradle her gently against him.

“I love you,” he reminds her pointlessly. She already knows.

She hums, nodding against his neck and pressing a soft kiss there, one that drastically contrasted the way she was touching him moments ago. “Sorry for jumping you. I love you, too.”

“Aye,” he laughs, scratching his fingers over her scalp in the way he knows she loves. He feels her shudder against him, either because of the sensation or because of the evening breeze blowing over her bare skin. “Is that something you’re ready to talk about?”

He feels her shaking her head immediately, before he even finishes his question, and he fights off the urge to sigh, choosing instead to hold her closer to himself and press a kiss to the top of her head. He knows if he waits long enough, she’ll sigh and give in, but at this second, she isn’t ready to talk. He’ll wait for her.

After a few moments of calming silence, the only sound between them the gentle waves lapping against the boat and the wind swirling around them, she lets out a frustrated groan and lifts her head. She stares into his eyes, the emerald jewels difficult to read. “You’re too emotionally mature for me,” she finally says as she walks into the cabin in search of a tissue.

He laughs lightly, following her closely, and responds, “You know the deal, my love. You’re only allowed to fuck me through your feelings if we talk about them afterwards.”

Rolling her eyes, she turns towards him, shamelessly exposing her nude form to him and making him wonder how it’s even possible for a man his age to shorten his refractory time. “ Way too mature.”

“Come,” he requests, holding out his hand to her once they’re cleaned up.

“I just did, thank you very much,” she responds with a smirk, one that tells him that she’s fighting tooth and nail against any conversation remotely related to her feelings.

“Twice, if I recall.” He grabs a knit blanket from the small tattered couch in the cabin and takes her hand, guiding her outside and towards the starboard side of the boat. He climbs up and onto the bow, Emma following him closely until they’re lounging in each other’s arms and he’s able to wrap the thick blanket over them. He loves her confidence, her complete comfort with herself evidenced by her silent refusal to get dressed despite them being out in the open, and he’s happy to stay naked with her if only to feel her soft skin against his.

“I love you,” she finally whispers into the quiet settled between them. “A lot.”

He pulls her impossibly closer, every part of him touching every part of her, and responds, “I know you do, darling. I’ve never doubted that.”

“I just--” she sighs, dropping her head dramatically against his chest. The moonlight shines against her hair, making it appear even more platinum than usual. “I love you. I love our life together.”

“Angel,” he breathes, “I wouldn’t trade our life together for anything, you know that.”

“I need to tell you something,” she whispers against his skin. “Something about my past… when I was young.”

“You know you can tell me anything, Emma. I’ll never judge you, especially not for something that happened when you were young.”

She stays quiet for a moment longer, her fingers gently tracing patterns over his chest and through the black and silver hair peppering over his skin. She’s always had a fascination with his chest hair, never able to keep herself from touching it when it’s exposed to her. Aside from the comfort it brings her to comb through the soft, thick hair with her fingertips, it also serves as an effective distraction against her nausea at the thought of opening up to him.

It’s ridiculous, really. He’s her husband, for goodness sake. She’s never felt this comfortable around anyone in her entire life; not her parents, not the woman who raised her. He’s successfully broken down nearly every wall she put up, and she feels the guilt settling deep in her gut as she considers breaking down this one and letting him see her whole truth.

“Killian,” she whispers against the gentle sea breeze. “I’m… I’ve never wanted kids.”

She feels him breathe out softly and nod, and she wonders what he’s thinking. Is it relief? Is it regret?

“I know, my love,” he comforts. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know, I just… I never told you…”

“Emma, your reasonings are entirely understandable. I respect the decision you’ve made, and, as I've told you, I’m perfectly content to live out the rest of my days with you as my wife, with or without a child.”

“But would you be happier if we did have one?” she asks, suddenly needing to look him in the eyes as she presses up onto her elbows and stares. The moon glistens off of his deep irises, the darkness making them appear as though they’re the color of the ocean tonight. The way they shimmer makes her fall in love with him even more.

“What is this about?” he asks, his hand lifting to cradle her cheek, and she leans against his palm and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist. His answer isn’t an answer, not really, and it serves only to drag out her feelings of guilt and insecurity.

She sighs and closes her eyes, entirely unable to look at him when she finally admits the truth. “When I was 16, I had a boyfriend. He was a real piece of work… I think it was part of my teenage rebellion phase.” He laughs softly, brushing his thumb over her cheek and letting her continue without interruption. “He and I… I mean… he was my first. It sucked, every time, but… I got pregnant.”

She bites her lip and opens her eyes, and she’s met with unconditional understanding.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, easily able to read the emotion she feels as she opens up to him.

“I didn’t want it; I’ve never wanted kids. And when I got pregnant at sixteen by someone who was no good for me-- not to mention too old for me at the time-- I knew that I really didn’t want kids. And I planned on giving it up for adoption because I knew I couldn’t handle raising it.” She bites her lip again, sighing and lying back down onto his chest. “I never told anyone. I thought, maybe I could hide it,” she laughs. “I never told Ingrid or Neal. I just found out and waited a few weeks and hid how shitty I felt. I just kept hoping that it wasn’t happening to me; that it was a dream and I’d wake up soon. And then…”

She gulps, tugging on the blanket so that it’s tucked under her chin, needing to be covered and held together. He reads her again and pulls her closer to him, squeezing his arms around her back and providing her with comforting pressure. “It’s alright, my love,” he repeats in a whisper.

She doesn't even realize that the tears have started to fall until she feels a warm wetness on her cheek against his chest. With a sudden sniffle, one that catches her off guard, she says, “And then one day I woke up and… it was gone. It was like I wished it away and it worked. I don’t even know how far along I was because I never went to the doctor, but it was… It was gone.”

He sighs again, his hands running up and down along her spine to gently soothe her as she breaks, crying into his chest and whimpering at the loss of something she didn’t even want in the first place. “I wanted it gone and it… I did that. It’s my fault.”

She never wanted to have children. That fact hasn’t changed. But when she found herself pregnant and wished that she wasn’t, her wish came true. And she’s never stopped regretting it.

“Emma,” he whispers, “I'm so sorry.”

“I didn’t want it,” she says again. “I wanted it to go away and then…”

“That doesn’t make your loss any less painful, love. Even though you weren’t ready to have a child, you still suffered a loss. That was still something terribly difficult that you had to go through alone.”

She nods, because he’s right. It was impossible, and she’ll never forget the feelings of guilt and regret and complete failure. With another sniffle, she says, “and today my mom asked when we’re having kids, like it's something we should be doing, and I just…”

“It made you angry. And hurt? Misunderstood, perhaps?”

“Yes,” she breathes in relief. He’s always understood her, unlike anyone she’s ever known. “And she talked about how happy Alexandra makes you and it was like she thinks I'm hurting you by not wanting kids.”

“You’re not, Emma. I promise you, you can never hurt me.”

They’re quiet for another few moments, and she lets his gentle breathing and his soothing strokes up her back and the soft waves beneath them lull her into a sense of calm. Being with him never fails to bring her back down to earth, guiding her from her fear and anger and pain and into a place of love and consolation. She can weather any storm if he’s with her.

“I never… I never want to feel like that again. I always knew that I didn’t want children, but that experience really… I mean, it really solidified that for me.”

“I know what you mean, darling. I never had a specific desire to have children myself. I would have, if you’d wanted to, but it’s never been something that I’ve found myself needing.”

She nods and wipes a rogue tear away. “I sure am lucky,” she remarks, caught in a sense of disbelief at the fact that she gets to call herself his.

“Aye, about as lucky as I am.”

“I just can’t,” she whispers after a moment. “I never wanted to, and now I just… I can’t do it.”

“I know, angel. And you never have to feel that way again, I promise.”

“I can’t,” she repeats pleadingly, her arms tightening around his middle and her nose pushing impossibly further into his neck. She’s desperate to turn it off, the anguish that tortures her too great, and he’s desperate to help her. But there’s nothing he can do but hold her and let her cry in his arms until she’s spent, powerless to stop her pain. It kills him.

He whispers that he loves her into her hair, letting anger consume him for a moment as he considers her words and the fact that her terrible, too-old-for-her boyfriend did this to her. He wants to find the man and make him pay for the sobs wracking his wife. For taking advantage of her when she was just a child and making scars that still seem fresh a decade later. It’s unfair, and he feels his anger through the tips of his fingers as he tries to console her with gentle touches and soft words, unsure of what else he could possibly do.

He’s angry with her mother, too, for the things she said. The words that reopened an old wound when it could’ve stayed closed off in the deep pits of her mind. But he knows that the only way for her to heal is to feel, despite how difficult it clearly is for her.

It’s an experience that has haunted her for years, something she won’t easily move past and may never fully get over. He understands that, can empathize with her torment and guilt over her loss, and he only hopes that being here for her is enough.

When she calms, her breathing steady again and the tears no longer dampening his skin, he feels her let out a heaving sigh and press a kiss to his chest. “I’m sorry,” she finally says, her voice croaking after her sobs.

“Please never apologize,” he begs. All he wants is for her to be open with him, something he’s requested countless times. Now she has, and he can never express to her what it means that she trusts him. “Thank you for telling me.”

She nods into his chest and hugs him close to her. “Thanks for letting me blubber,” she answers sarcastically.

“Emma,” he starts. “You know you can blubber to me about anything.”

It earns him a soft giggle, the sound ricocheting off the water and the smooth surface of the boat and landing in the cockles of his heart, warming him from the inside out.

“I know. It’s just that… Well, I know this is nothing like your brother…”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads. “We can’t compare our losses or the pain they bring us. This was painful for you. You’re allowed to feel that no matter what anyone around you has gone through.”

She nods with a dejected sigh, obviously letting exhaustion overtake her after the long day that they’ve had. Between leaving before dawn, spending the day wrestling sea monsters, and the emotional and physical activity in which they’ve just partaken, he doesn’t blame her. He feels it too, although she would point out that she’s much younger and more energetic than he is.

“You missed dinner, my love,” he points out. “Why don’t we order in? Head home and have a shower?”

“A bath,” she says softly. It’s a brilliant idea; being on the water is certainly settling a chill in their bones.

“A bath, then,” he agrees.

She remains still for a minute more before shuffling over him, lifting onto her elbows and showing him her face. She looks stunning, blackened tear tracks and swollen eyes and all. He gives her a smile, one that’s genuine and reserved only for her, and cups her cheek with his palm. She leans into it immediately and kisses the inside of his wrist again, making his heart skip a beat.

“I love you,” she whispers. “More than anything or anyone. You’re perfect.”

“If you feel that way about me, then you better not argue when I tell you I feel exactly the same about you.”

She smiles, finally, and nods into his palm. “Okay,” she concedes softly. “Can we get onion rings?”

“Naturally,” he agrees.

When they get home, he tucks her into the couch under a warm blanket, endlessly dedicated to her comfort. He presses a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for just a moment before a knock on the door interrupts them and draws him away. He answers, Ruby delivering their dinner and smirking knowingly at his disheveled sweater. They’d dressed quickly after he’d placed the order, needing to hurry home with the knowledge of how quickly Granny works.

He places the bags on the coffee table before her, removing two grilled cheeses and a large order of onion rings and giving her a smile as he returns to the kitchen to fetch some drinks. She can’t imagine their life not being like this. She can’t even begin to picture a scenario that would make her happier than this. It’s taken her plenty of time to come to terms with her feelings, the realization that not every woman needs to crave raising a child of her own. She’s realized that it doesn’t make her broken, thinking like this. It doesn’t make her a bad woman, or a bad wife.

“There we are,” he says gently when he sits beside her, leaning toward her and pressing a long kiss to her temple. “My beautiful wife and my onion rings. What could be better?” he asks sarcastically, making her chuckle and snuggle into his side.

“Nothing, I hope,” she murmurs insecurely.

“Absolutely nothing.”

Eventually, she’ll go back to her parent’s house and apologize for her rude exit. She’ll apologize to her mother for her sudden and unexplained outburst. Maybe she’ll even explain her reasoning, although she doesn’t really feel that she should need to.

But for now, she’s perfectly content to sit here on the couch with her husband, enjoying their takeout and trash TV if only because it means that they get to spend this time with one another. That’s the only thing that matters to her.

~~~~

Tagging:

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx

#Captain swan fanfic #Overboard ff #Weather the Storm #cs ff #captain swan fluff #captain swan smut #captain swan angst #tw miscarriage

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our-lady-of-night-ravens · 4 years

Text

The Bane of Our Family: Father

Inspired by @tri3tri’s S/W au along with a submission from @scorpiris-sideralis

There will be more for me to say at the end of the story.

In the Valley of Thorns, lived a princess who was born with the blood of both humans and fae. The crown princess of the Valley, under the tutelage of her father, the king, and the brightest scholars of the kingdom grew up to be an intelligent and cunning princess who was skilled in controlling her fae magic and was brought up to be a great Queen.

However, she knew that there were notable issues within the castle, starting with her family. Her father, who treated her like a national treasure, was possessive over her sweet and loving mother. The reason for that was simple. She didn’t love Father, at least not in the way father wanted her too. And so, Mother was forced to marry her father at a young age, even though most of his advisors were against the idea of father marrying a magic-less human. That reason alone was why many of her father’s advisors would look at her with scorn and disdain, no matter what she accomplished.

She cared deeply about her mother and treasured the unconditional love that she gave her and her younger sister from infancy. That was why for her sake, she would ascend to the throne and find a way to help her mother return to her true home. The princess spent years planning every decision out, gaining the favor of young nobles, winning over some of the members of her father’s court, and earning the love of the public.

However it was all torn apart when her father announced that he would be marrying another woman, a lady of a noble pureblood fae family, in hopes of giving birth to a son, and once she did, that child would be the next heir. He had denounced her as his heir, all that work, everything she did, it was apparently for naught.

Then again she can’t be too surprised, her father’s advisors had been badgering him to take on a second wife of pure fae origin so he could have an heir of pureblood.

Pureblood.

That was something about the Princess she couldn’t change about herself. She could study every book in the royal library and become the kingdom’s most brilliant scholar, she could take up the way of the blade and become the greatest swordsman in the Valley, she could even practice her magic and refine it to perfection that rivals even her father’s, but she could never change her blood. It was something that was always mentioned among the advisors like it was a blatant flaw of hers. Like it made it her inferior to all of them, despite having the Witch of Thorns’ blood running through her veins.

It simply wasn’t right, Mother, human though she may be, was the queen of the Valley of Thorns, had the proper authority to act upon her whims and punish everyone if she wasn’t so compassionate. It was disrespectful to see the court and the servants look at her and her mother with contempt despite all they’ve done for the kingdom.

She had to listen to Sebek criticize her mother all the time, no matter how well she did her job as Queen because of her human origins. It was disrespectful for a fae who was no more than a guard to berate his queen for doing her duty. It was frustrating seeing her mother have no choice but to grow used to the hurtful comments around her no matter what she did and watching her father do nothing to prevent them.

When she confronted her father in his office, all he did was brush her off, like she was dust on his shoulder.

“Father I don’t understand why you would give in to your court’s whims.”

“This isn’t your business, I suggest that some of your studies be dropped as you are no longer heir.”

“But father, you would always say that you needn’t have to remarry because you would always have mother and my sister and me. Why did you suddenly change your mind now?”

“That is none of your concern, the Valley needs a proper heir and your mother simply hasn’t become pregnant in these past few years.”

“A proper heir? Have my actions not shown that I’m capable of being Queen? Or is it that… you’re ashamed of my human blood, ashamed of me and mother?”

His back grew rigid, “Daughter, I would watch your words in front of me.”

“I refuse, I need a proper answer from you father. Would you have preferred that mother was born fae? Did you not, when I was younger, say that you loved everything about mother, or was just that simply just a lie?”

“Young Lady…”

“I’m right, aren’t I? You don’t love mother, do you? You just think of her as a fun toy that you grew tired of don’t you? You certainly don’t care that she’s constantly harassed by the castle’s employees, from the court to Sebek even the maids go about berating her for her human blood. But I’ve never seen you once attempt to stop them.”

Her father’s ears were turning red from contempt and his eyes were glowering at her but she stood her ground.

“Or is that your plan? You stole her from her home, forced her into marriage, forced her to have your children only to abandon her in a way of breaking her down until she’s desperate for care and affection from you. Is this all just a part of your sick and twisted attempt of getting her to love you?”

*SLAP*

A red mark bloomed on the princess’s face, her father standing before her, hand raised. He had slapped her. She raised her hand to the mark on her face with wide eyes. In the past, she never would have believed that her doting father would even harm a hair on her head, let alone slap her across the face. It hurt, even though she knew what he put her mother through, he was still her father and she always wanted to appease him and make him proud.

“That’s enough out of you, it seems you’ve grown as insufferably stubborn as your mother. Silver. Sebek. Escort the princess back to her room.” His guards, who were waiting outside, entered his office.

Silver was the first to approach her, “Princess please follow me.” But she pulled herself away from him.

“I’m not leaving until I ask one last thing to my father, Silver.”

Malleus sighed before answering, “And pray tell would that be, daughter?”

She stood up straight and looked him straight in the eyes, “I know you father, I know that for years you’ve done all you can think of to get mother to love you, to have the family you desired. But I ask you if this is truly what you want to do. Do you truly mean to set Mother aside in favor of another and to have another on the throne?”

He faltered for a moment before standing straight and tall, towering over his daughter, “Yes, and nothing is going to change my decision.”

She should’ve known. Mother always did say that father lied often. Like how he lied that he loved mother with all his heart. Or how he promised that she would be able to lead the Valley of Thorns proudly as Queen one day.

She lowered her eyes in a moment of sadness before glaring up at him in a split second before returning to a neutral face, “If that is your will,” She curtsied, “I hope you’re happy with your decision because there’s no going back. May your reign be long and prosperous, Your Majesty.” She made a quick turn before leaving, head facing forward, hands to her waist and her back straight, an exit filled with formal grace.

On her way to her room, she began to get lost in her thought. Lilia was on his way to see his majesty when he spotted the young first princess walking almost aimlessly. So he called out to her.

“Princess.” Her attention was drawn to the voice calling out to her, she turned to face Lord Lilia, one of her father’s most trusted retainers.

“Lord Lilia, I give my greetings.”

Now, now, princess, you needn’t have to greet this old one,” Lilia waved off her formality.

“Even if you are as you say, an ‘old one’, you are father’s most trustworthy retainer and have served the royal family since the time of my great grandmother, her majesty, The Witch of Thorns. To understate your prestige would be nothing less than rude. But that aside, did you need something of me, Lord Lilia?”

“Why yes, I was wondering how you were doing. I heard you were a touch shaken up after your father announced he would be remarrying and removing your title as heir.”

“I suppose I was shaken up however this matter is something that father has the final say in alone. If he wishes for that woman’s future child to be the next ruler, I have no choice but to set aside any opposition. I just came back from my father’s office and was planning on returning to my room.”

“I see but your highness, you just passed your bedroom door though,” she turned her head back to see the door to her bedroom just a few feet behind her.

“Oh! I didn’t realize… I must have been lost in my thoughts to notice, who knows where I could have ended up. Thank you for notifying me, Lord Lilia.” She turned around to enter her bedroom before remembering something, “Actually Lord Lilia,” The old fae’s ears perked before turning to her, “ I was wondering if you were on your way to see father… I meant to give him some policy proposals regarding the dispute regarding the villages along our border but it must have slipped my mind.”

The old fae smiled, “Actually, I, as a matter of a fact, was indeed on my way to see his majesty, I can deliver it on my way princess.” She smiled before entering her room and coming out with a small stack of papers in hand.

“The first half of the pages consist of a set plan with can act towards for long term and my argument for the plan while the remaining half includes smaller short term solutions that should appease the residents for the time being along with the territory’s lord too.”

Lilia’s face was a tad surprised, though the princess was a young adult to human standards, she was like a baby when compared to the average lifespan of a fae, and yet she comes up with intuitive solutions that most conservative fae would never think of in centuries but then again, look at who her mother is. The first female student of NRC and the young lady who stopped overblot after overblot in her first year alone, “You know to be quite honest your highness, whether or not you become Queen, I’m genuinely curious about what you’ll do for this country.”

“I appreciate the sentiment Lord Lilia but I’m afraid I might not be able to do as much anymore with my title as heir taken from me,” A saddened smile, present on her face. It pained Lilia to see the bright princess he knew with dreams as high as the sky so diminished, “Right now, looking after my mother and sister are what matters to me right now. Now if you excuse I’ll just return to my room.”

“Of course your highness. I’ll be off then.” Lilia left the princess to her own devices before setting off to his original course towards his majesty’s office.

Meanwhile, the princess closed her door before sitting in front of her vanity mirror. “Whew that was too close, I almost got excited in front of Lilia. My whole plan would have been ruined if that had happened.” A smile creeping on her face, “Though I can help but wonder what kind of expression father will have on his face when he sees my policy proposal... regret, annoyance, sadness? Oh, the possibilities.”

Father’s decision will surely backfire on him. She knows her father, to her, it would only be a matter of time before Father realizes that he regrets his decision. Father would never give up on Mother so easily, and the look on his face. He barely showed it but he must not have been aware of how she was harassed by the servants.

No doubt he’ll investigate it further and when he does, he’ll find out the mastermind in no time. After all, if she could do it in less than a week with few resources then he should figure it out in a few days at most. He’ll realize just how untrustworthy the court is and eventually, father will have to admit his mistake and reappoint her.

But until then...Let’s have Father suffer just for a little bit.

She looked at the small frame image of her mother and younger sister, ‘Perhaps I should arrange a tea party for mother and sister in the meantime. I can’t wait to tell them what I have planned.’ Her eyes begin to glow brightly.

The princess looked back at her reflection in her mirror, her green eyes, long black hair, and prominent horns made her a near spitting image of her father. If it weren’t for her facial structure, you wouldn’t see any of the queen’s genetics at all. ‘Oh, I’m sure mother will be excited to have father be away from her after so long. She has been going on about how she just wants some alone time.'

She thinks about how her father’s future second wife. From what she’s heard, the future second queen is a bit of an attention hog so she’ll surely demand father all of his free time. She wonders how long it’ll take before the court realizes their blunder about how the second queen is hardly active anyway outside of gossip tea parties and luxurious ballrooms. Meanwhile, her mother was never one who enjoyed being lavished in luxuries, much to her father’s dismay and worked hard in aiding this nation as a competent figure.

The princess couldn’t wait for the look of frustration on father’s and his retainers’ faces when dealing with this spoiled noble lady and how that woman will look whence realizes that she won’t be getting her happily ever after. Oh, the performance she’ll be able to watch alongside her sister and mother.

“How amusing this show will be...”

~ For Malleus and MC’s eldest daughter, I portrayed her as a cunning woman who cares about her mother deeply and will do what she can to ensure her mother’s happiness. Even if that means making her father miserable in the process.

Also I’m making a part 2 for this as well so expect that to coming soon.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twst mc #s/w au #my writing #malleus draconia #twst silver #Lilia Vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #twst kids #no beta read #yandere malleus draconia #malleus draconia x mc #Bane of Our Family

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bookofmirth · 4 years

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after rereading the series and finally finishing silver flames ( which i truly enjoyed, even when there were points which felt disappointing and a little incoherent ) i feel like i can finally pinpoint what is so jarring to me regarding this series. It just seems so disjointed, which becomes especially apparent after reading MaF and the immediately reading WaR.

We move from the first two novels of the series, which are coherent and clean, to WaR - which is hoenstly just a mess, something which was so blatant to me on the reread. during this time, it’s clear that sjm made several massive changes to link this book to the future spin offs, and also obviously changes her original plan to pair mor and azriel - which monumentally changes the way that the previous book is read, and the perception of their characters.

Even with FaS - setting up for cassian and nestas story, sjm completely changes direction between this release and silver flames. And all of that lead up with the Illyrian rebellions and cassians not being respected as a bastard, and his mission fighting for Illyrian female rights - amounts to absolutely nothing.

Don’t get me wrong, I really really enjoyed silver flames, and perhaps some of these ideas will crop up in azriels book and therefore won’t be wasted. But it just makes the series feel disjointed and leaves me at least, feeling unfulfilled.

Sjm is such a good author, in ToG the plot was expertly executed and when you reread the series, you can see hints and foreshadowing even back to book one. She knew exactly where she was going almost from the beginning, and each decision and plot point was used to create impact and build up to the ending. I don’t get that with acotar.

There is so so so much build, and almost no pay off - and I really got that sense in acosf, I loved it as a stand alone - but when we look at it through the perspective of the entire series, there were things which grated and a lot of things which I felt were built up to and nothing happened... Tomas, Cassians mother ( was so sure we would learn where she was buried at least ) the Illyrian rebellions and the Illyrians hatred and disrespect towards Cassian, Mor and Nestas relationship, CASSIAN AND MORS RELATIONSHIP ( I understand that the mor situation will be something which is focused upon primarily in azriels book, or hopefully her own, however their relationship involves Cassian as much as them both and I really wish Cassian had actually confronted the part he played in that whole situation - a part he played for 500 (!!!!) years. It’s a role which he was unable to relinquish in ACOWAR, and actively rejects Nesta to act as a buffer multiple times, seeing it as an obligation almost - and then in SF, pays it no attention at all. Feyre and Nestas relationship also isn’t really touched upon, as if that final act healed everything - what about that interrupted conversation in the library, when Nesta was cut off ? Why Nesta always favoured Elain, even Amren and Nesta - we still don’t really know what happened there... argh there’s just so much potential and so much set up, and it just seems forgotten about ? It makes the book seem disjointed and a bit of a let down.

Yesss I totally get what you mean here. ToG is honestly the superior series, and it’s because it has the cohesion that acotar doesn’t. Everything feels like it’s meant to be there, each character, each worldbuilding detail, their histories, everything just comes together in a wonderful way that just wrecked me when EoS came out and then was resolved perfectly in KoA.

Compared to that, acotar feels like sjm is figuring things out along the way and it is seriously driving me nuts. I’ve had multiple conversations with other people in Discords and they’ve said similar things. acotar at this point feels like sjm is just coming up with random ass ideas and throwing them in. No book in the series feels more like that than acowar. And it was that point where we knew that there would be more books, right? So combined with the fact that she pounded that book out and it got rather half-assed editing, you’re probably right that a lot of things were changed in order to set up the other books, even though it didn’t make sense with what she’d written before.

I agree with you re: Mor and Az, and I feel like I’ve been seeing more people say that lately? That there is a feeling that they actually were supposed to be together and she changed her mind? I wrote a bunch of fics for them back in the day and they’ve gotten a bit more attention lately. But once acowar came out I was like, I’m gonna reread, and I’m gonna find all the clues, I’m gonna see where all this build-up was, and.... considering how often people say that sjm is so “good” at foreshadowing, I’m sorry, but not in this series. In ToG, yes, because she had a clear goal at the end! She knew where she was going and she stayed on that path. In acotar, idfk. Anyway my point is that I’ve reread the series a couple of times through since acowar came out and I’m still over here shrugging because up until that point, Mor and Az could be read in completely opposite ways. (Maybe it’s an Azriel thing, given the current discourse, idk.)

I will say, however, that we had clues that there was tension between them and I had noted that Az is quiet troubled and even pre-acomaf, I would not have been surprised by his extra in acosf. But all of that could have been addressed with Mor and Az still being together? We all had plenty of explanations at the time for the tension, and Mor being queer was like 1 of 100 of those explanations.

If we look at Mor’s character through the books we have so far, I still see almost zero signs that she’s queer except for her literally saying “I like women and Rita’s has a lot of women and here’s my gay story”. Other than that, there is like..... nothing that feels organically queer about her!!! And I love her and I want her to be gay af!!!! But I wonder if my forgiveness of how acowar went down was more about my personal reaction than how well the story was actually done.

And the fact that, like you said, there is still no resolution to the fact that Cassian is supposedly a buffer between Mor and Azriel? Like???? We were all sitting here after acowar thinking “okay, well if she’s gay then someone knows. Someone has to know. She can’t just be gay and NO ONE WHO LOVES HER KNOWS.”

Then in comes acosf with a big “fuck you, y’all thought” which just.... to me, it signals that her queerness was an afterthought. It’s still an afterthought because her queerness is limited to Mor and women blushing at her and Mor has her corner of the world in which she can be gay, but that gay never spills out into any other aspect of her life. It’s just conveniently isolated so that it doesn’t touch or affect other characters.

In terms of continuity, acowar was such a huge shifting point in the series that people left in droves. It was a huge mess in the fandom. And then acofas was just fluff with no real point in pushing the story forward - even the Nesta stuff was a sneak peek, it had nothing to do with acofas itself. And now acosf comes in ignoring things she had set up previously, with almost zero nuanced discussion of the Cassian/Azriel/Mor thing, which means she still (?) doesn’t know what’s going on there. And I think that we did get some answers with Nesta’s reflection on her relationship with her mother, but the deal with the Illyrian rebellion was just in the way so let’s nix that, and then let’s focus on Eris (🤮) just because she feels like it even though she’s set up all these other characters whose stories need more. (Much like acowar, this paragraph is a MESS LOL)

And yes I KNOW that the series isn’t over, clearly, but she keeps setting things up and then letting them go nowhere, or making them seem important and then resolving them off-page, or changing character relationships (Mor and Az) but then having the characters involved act exactly the same, as if nothing had changed (by having the “buffer” situation still exist as a real thing).

I did enjoy the book, a lot, it was a fun read. But tbh we have so many arguments and disagreements within the fandom rn because things have been so left open to interpretation that we it’s not even a matter of “oh I saw this slightly differently”, it’s “WHAT book did these people even read???” That’s kinda weird, to me. There is reader response, and then there is what we have now, which is people having absolute opposite reactions to what they think happened in acosf.

#acosf #acosf spoilers #spoilers #sjm critical #ask #acotar #wow you got me started lol #anon

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

Text

Let’s talk: Grievances and Cuteness - BTS on You Quiz on the Block

by Admin 1

Today BTS were guests on You Quiz on the Block, a very popular Korean variety show on tvN, and it was a wonderful mix of fun and hilarious, but also serious, vulnerable and honest. Seeing as we don’t have subtitles yet, merely the things our marvelous translator ARMYs managed to translate for us—the episode was 100 minutes long so there was a lot going on and being said—I don’t want to get into detail in this post and instead will wait with that until we have subs and I’ll be able to sit down and watch it properly again, focus on things that stick out to me and I would want to talk about. So that I can do their words justice.

Instead I want to use this post to air some of my grievances, directed at fellow ARMY, “ARMY” and shippers, as well as just gush a little about a few cute moments. The more serious things will be in a different post sometime soon. I hope that’s okay.

Grievances

What is the point of Bangtan going on a show like this, especially one that is broadcast on national TV and very popular with the general public? It’s to share not only their funny side but also their honest and genuine one, share stories that, though some we’ve heard before as ARMY, they’re things the general public doesn’t necessarily know. The point of them sharing vulnerable moments and memories with us is to simply be honest and transparent, something they’ve always highlighted as important to them.

What is the part we play in this, what is it that we should do? We are simply supposed to listen, understand the things they are telling us, put things into perspective so we know what they felt in certain moments and periods of their lives, understand that they’re human too with struggles, fears and sadness, and we should cherish the fact that they tell us any of it at all. They could just as well only show up whenever there’s a new album and comeback and then disappear again, share nothing personal at all and put on entirely fake personas. But they don’t. And we should be grateful for that and happy because of it.

Now, the reason why I even wanted to write this in the first place is this:

Many, and I mean many have decided that instead of doing what I’ve highlighted a moment ago, a far better course of action would be to twist their words, manipulate them, use them to victimize the members (and especially Seokjin), and try to overanalyze them in favor of their desired narratives and especially their ships, even if whatever was being said had absolutely nothing to do with any ship at all.

Before the episode even finished airing, solos/mantis were already up in arms “crying” about mistreatment and victimizing Seokjin because *insert demands they have no right to make at all* and when Seokjin, bless him, was on weverse, he actually replied to a post where he basically said that parts of what he said were too sad/depressing, so he simply asked the You Quiz staff to cut them out, which would explain why he seemed to have “less to say” during his interview section with Yoongi. Did that help? Of course not. Even though it showed not only that he did say more, that he likely said more vulnerable things, but also that he made the decision for himself that he did not want to share that yet, because he’s not ready for it or because he came to the conclusion that he simply doesn’t want to period, and that his wish for them to cut it out was met. Even though it wasn’t BH controlled content, but You Quiz.

More below the cut:

What does this tell us? The members have control over what is aired and what is not. If they feel something is too personal or would come across wrong, they can voice objection and chances are their words will be met and followed. They aren’t victims in need of saving, aren’t helpless boys with no idea what they’re doing. They are serious musicians, respected and treated well. This is a good thing and I’m glad he told us that, even if many don’t want to hear it and immediately claimed that “oh yeah BH told him to shut us up”. The mental gymnastics some are willing to do to make things fit their agenda truly baffles me sometimes.

On the other hand, I’ve seen shippers try to twist words or put others into the members mouths to push their agenda, and we’ve even had one or two asks being sent to us basically sadly wondering if maybe Tae isn’t who we thought he is for Jimin, and neither is Hobi, because of something Jimin said. Even though the thing Jimin said had quite literally nothing to do with either Tae or Hobi. In a way, I get where such vminnies are coming from, as vminnies we would love to just hear vmin talk about each other all day because it’s cute and we love their bond and stories, but it’s not like we didn’t get that. Because we did. Unprompted. Jimin mentioned Tae during their trio interview and told a story, even if we’ve heard it before to a certain degree. And yet it still wasn’t enough? Like come on, please don’t do this. Don’t reduce everything the members do and say to just ship related and non-ship related (thus uninteresting) statements and actions, as though the latter is worth less.

Here is the moment in question:

The way I see it, the only thing we should take away from this is that despite these very human fears and struggles, wonderings if people only care about Jimin because he is BTS Jimin and not Park Jimin, he still had and has good people in his life that’ll remind him that he is appreciated and loved for who he is, and not just for his celebrity status. Friends even outside of Bangtan. Why do we have to take something so incredibly personal, this moment of vulnerability from Jimin, and try to overanalyze it? To twist it to fit a ship? Regardless which one. Or to twist it to fit some kind of narrative, whatever one it may be? Please don’t do that.

Sure, Admin 2 noticed his use of ‘chingu’ when talking about this friend that told him that, and sure it reminded me of what Jimin said to Tae in the FESTA 2020 Rolling Paper, but neither Admin 2 nor I will go and claim that oh he must’ve been talking about Tae but didn’t want to use his name to avoid XYZ because we are not in his head and, at the end of the day, it’s irrelevant who exactly said that to him. That wasn’t the point of that story. Like at all. So why are some people disregarding the point in favor of speculations? Why are some completely ignoring his words, downplaying them as just potential ship material instead of appreciating the fact that he told us that at all?

It’s unfair toward Jimin, and the other members as well when they tell similar stories. Their lives aren’t fictional stories that revolve around romance. They are real people with real lives and more friends than just their fellow members and that’s a good thing since it surely gives them the opportunity to feel less isolated, cut off from the world by nature of their occupation and status. Besides, in the past Tae said something similar as well, how he used to be a social butterfly and make friends easily wherever they went but eventually he understood that people didn’t really care about Kim Taehyung and instead just wanted to know BTS V and be able to use that to brag, so he stopped being so outgoing. And we’ve also seen Jimin talk about cutting out friends in the past if they said something negative about Bangtan, then, a few years later, saying that he’s grown more as a person and learned to not allow these things to affect him as much, to surround himself with genuine people.

So, in light of what he said in that segment, we should be happy for him. And that’s it.

We also saw people use what Tae said about his dad to push the he must be 100% heterosexual because he said he wants to be a dad narrative which, where do I even start. Perhaps with the fact that this statement relies on a mistranslation? Because he didn’t say he wants to be a dad but that he wants to be a person like his dad, that’s his dream. Perhaps with the blatant homophobia this statement is laced in? The disregard for how queer people can also want to have kids, be parents, just like anyone else? Perhaps with how these things oddly seem to just be done to Tae and Namjoon, and especially Tae to use it for ship purposes?

Instead of jumping to conclusions, overanalyzing stories we are not supposed to analyze but instead to simply appreciate, please wait until we’ll have the full episode with subtitles (even though from the past we know that some of it may be simplified so reading what our translators wrote is also a good thing to get the whole picture) and even then, just enjoy their silliness and listen to their words of honesty. Listen to the fact that their fame was and continues to be a heavy weight on their shoulders, how instead of becoming cocky assholes they remained humble and genuine because that’s the kind of people they are and want to be, listen to what they want you to hear and now what you want to hear.

Also, to shippers—this isn’t the place to look for ship content of any kind, for some romantic confessions or whatever, because this was about Bangtan as seven members and their stories of the last ten and a half years since Namjoon joined BH and the idea for BTS was started.

Cute and silly things

Now that that's done, let’s talk about some fun and cute things to lighten the mood, shall we?

One of my favorite moments was when the MIC DROP ARMY came in as a surprise for the members, her confidence was off the charts and the guys looked so genuinely happy. After all it’s been so many months since they’ve last seen ARMY! And I’m so glad she was such a wonderful representative for us all, how she didn’t react with fear or shyness, didn’t scream or cry, but instead did her thing like a Queen. And the way the members reacted when she sent them a finger heart during one of the dances? Absolutely adorable!

Also, she truly must’ve saved some kind of nation, or maybe two, in her past life since she also was gifted a chicken leg pillow by Tae. He’s just so kind and lovely.

Then we had the members play a game of trying to guess a song merely by the first second (I think) and then having to sing it, though who sang which part didn’t follow the actual order in the song but was chosen by someone off screen which meant that, for example, Tae was doing one of the rap line verses as well as singing Jimin’s part in another, Hobi showed off his vocal skills, and of course, the highlight, Namjoon singing a part from Spring Day. Even though we know Namjoon’s skills when it comes to singing are not the greatest, which I mean in a very loving way, no tea no shade, and yet he still went for it. It was hilarious and cute and showed that he is willing to be silly even if others might laugh at his expense.

Sometime after the episode aired Namjoon actually came onto Weverse to talk about the episode and, among other things, apologized for not singing Seokjin’s guide all that well. One thing I’d like to point out is how, originally, he wrote Jinhyung but then changed it to Seokjinie hyung, which is just a small and precious little detail:

Another cute moment was during ‘dance mafia’ when Tae turned to Jimin to ask him if they did well and Jimin replied that yes, he did well (both using this adorably soft tone with each other), they also hugged for a moment while smiling brightly. See, I said not to look for ship moments, but this is just cute regardless if you ship vmin or not. Admin 2 though would like to comment on how they could’ve given us that hug from a camera that’s a little further away so we could have a more proper look, or a longer shot of it, please?

Honestly that game was hilarious and the members who were mafia did a wonderful job tricking the others, particularly JK was fantastic at it since the second time around no one suspected him at all. Also, the fluffy ear muffs with cat (?) ears on them were adorable. At the end of the segment they were all supposed to strike a pose but Tae didn’t manage to put his ear muffs back on, so they fell to the ground and so Jimin lightly hit/caressed his chest and turned toward the MCs to ask if they could try again so that Tae could look good in it as well.

Actually, speaking of adorable in regard to Jimin, when they were introduced at the beginning of the show as RM-jagi-nim, jagi-nim being the name used for all the guests on the show and also the name on the necklace (given to guests who are fans of the show by the producers) Jimin showed off on weverse in his selcas, Jimin corrected the MC that it’s not Jimin-jagi-nim but Mini-jagi-nim which just…my heart. Too cute.

Lastly, I want to mention how all of them were asked what the first sentence would be if their lives were a book and their answers were just so very…them.

Namjoon: Predictions in life often turn out to be wrong

Tae: I’m a chameleon

Hobi: Dear, people who’ve helped to lead me here

Yoongi: You lived life to the fullest/hard/well

Seokjin: Dope, worldwide class!

Jimin: What kind of life do you want to live?

Jungkook: Hello?

Overall it was an amazing episode that was so fun to watch even without really being able to understand any of what was being said. Still the members genuine personalities shone through brightly and I’m glad they had fun and felt comfortable, especially since it’s been a while since they were last on Korean variety shows and some of their past experiences were…not great. I can’t wait to watch it again once we have subs and to write a more proper post about it then. I hope you didn’t mind this more…serious and “angry” post and understand where I’m coming from with my complaints, but also that you enjoyed the cute moments I highlighted.

#BTS #BTS You quiz on the block #Namjoon #Seokjin #Yoongi #Hoseok #Jimin #Taehyung #Jungkook #vmin

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kitkatopinions · 3 years

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I’m probably over thinking/over complicating things but Ironwood and Penny have been really bothering me. It because prior to the moment that destroyed Penny’s arc the show and Ruby were really pushing that Penny not matter her body was human and that’s a very positive I like that especially when it comes to characters of Penny’s nature.

So my problem kicks in when I think of Ironwood. Namely this part in his song:

“What if it's true as they say

That I don't have a heart

That I'm more a machine than a man?”

Like wtf. I mean I “get it” especially with that dumbass line of Winter. But when it’s talked about Ironwood it was always in reference to the fact that his body is half robotic and there for we are meant to see the correlation between his body and his character.?

Put next to Penny’s message that really bothers me. Even more so since Penny gets a “reward” of becoming human, but the writers push that Ironwood sacrificing his arm to stop Watts and replacing it (a medical decision that could be debated given that he wanted to be up and able immediately to handle things not to mention that fact that nerves and muscle are severely fucked up) with a new (uncharacteristically uncovered) prosthetic means that he’s moving away from humanity. This thought has been driving nuts for a week.

I don’t think you’re overthinking at all. The writers have been pretty blatant about what they think of disabled people.

On the topic of James, 1. They wrote their triple amputee character to be coded as losing his humanity. This is suspect from the get go, but writers imo need to be especially careful and sensitive when they display things like villains with prosthetics. CRWBY is not careful and sensitive. 2. They specifically connected the loss of his limb to the loss of his humanity outside of the show, and as you said, his new prosthetic is uncharacteristically uncovered as well, and there were some pointed shots showcasing his arm and emphasizing it before showing Ironwood doing something wrong as well as a shot that particularly bothered me of them having James fall to Winter when his aura broke and then them immediately flashing to a fallen, broken robotic soldier. Tying the loss of someone’s humanity to them losing a limb / gaining a prosthetic in any way is wrong imo. There are better ways to display someone’s loss of humanity than villainizing the loss of his arm, and I don’t care what justifications people have for ‘they just meant to say that he was too impatient to-’ Idc. Tying the loss of humanity to the gaining of a prosthetic is wrong. 3. They never once treated Ironwood’s clear PTSD, history of mental health problems, and trauma with any sympathy, instead spending their time ragging on him for not wanting to feel his pain anymore and condemning him for... Trying to control his emotions. 4. CRWBY also gave him a semblance and explained how it worked by saying he hyper focused, talking about how James’ passive semblance that he can’t control forces him to focus on one single goal and fixate. I’m not disabled, but I do hyper fixate. It’s not something I can control, and to see it used as a justification for evil (in one of my favorite characters in the series who reminded me of my father lol) and being treated as something bad... It doesn’t feel good. I can’t imagine how other people must feel who are much more affected by this than I am. 5. As you say, the writers go out of their way to reference his metal body as being more ‘machine than man’ and make lines about him being heartless. And yeah, I get that he’s an allegory for the ‘Tin Man’ from Wizard of Oz but ffs the Tin Man had always had a heart and I honestly thought that was what they were going for in V3 with Qrow commenting that sometimes he thought James didn’t have a heart and the audience seeing Ironwood’s actions as questionable, only for the entire show to tell us repeatedly that he actually is a caring and good person who’s willing to destroy all the forces he was proud to show off if it means saving lives and was actually pretty freaking blameless in the Fall of Beacon and was super kind to the kids and when the chips were down, Qrow and Glynda both absolutely knew without even questioning that James would never ever willingly hurt the world or fully betray them and had absolutely no hand in the Beacon attack. Like, I’m sorry, but between Penny and Ironwood, season eight is the season of taking well done character allusions and throwing them out the window for the exact opposite moral done incredibly poorly. And anyway, getting off of that rant, making a ‘more machine than man’ sentiment tied around a triple amputee character is incredibly harmful and hurtful to people with disabilities and only propagates the real world stereotypes against people like James.

So, yes, their treatment of Ironwood, his mental health, and specifically his disabilities was so badly done, harmful, incredibly insensitive, and frankly, appalling that it came from grown adult writers in 2019-2021! But, as you point out, it’s not just Ironwood. And here’s where things really get bad for CRWBY. Because Ironwood alone is enough for me to say they were ableist - unintentionally or otherwise - and ought to apologize for the hurt they’ve caused their fans. But when you get into the rest of their treatment of characters with metal prosthetics or non-flesh elements to their body, it becomes a pattern.

Penny’s entire body is removed from her on threat of death, with the justification that it’s hurting her and that her body is just a machine and not part of who she is, contradicting Penny’s earlier themes of self-acceptance and validating her humanity in the body she already had. She then dies by assisted suicide in a way that feels unneeded, after having asked to be killed earlier in the narrative. So many people have talked about how destructive her story became in V8 and how it personally hurt them, especially non-binary people, trans people, autistic people, or disabled people who saw themselves in Penny or saw in her arc something that they could relate to, only to have Penny’s differences stripped away from her, having her conform to normal body standards and have her previous body type invalidated by her friends, and then they had her killed via assisted suicide in an unbelievable way, insisting as well that she never made a choice before she was a flesh-person and couldn’t feel things right. It’s all horribly done, but it’s important to remember that while Ironwood is accused of losing his humanity as he loses a third limb and gets a third prosthetic, Penny’s earlier validation is taken away and is instead only granted and she is only justified as a person when she loses all her ‘nuts and bolts’ and becomes a flesh person. And then she’s killed anyway.

Yang’s prosthetic is the least ill handled, but it is still dismissed as ‘just extra’ despite her former fairly strong arc of coming to terms with her disability and making it a part of her. She casually justifies what’s happening with Penny despite Penny not being in a position of adequate consent. Yang’s trauma and PTSD also vanished when Adam died at the end of season six and in my opinion, that situation was handled very badly.

Maria and Pietro, two other disabled characters, disappeared, left when Amity fell and were not even mentioned iirc since. Not even when Penny is awake, not even when they’re evacuating, not even when Penny is choosing to die. She never brings up her father. And Ruby’s supposed ‘mentor’ who never had an actual narrative role that couldn’t have been filled by Qrow and has had nothing to do since season six even past that is also forgotten out in the tundra and not mentioned again.

The writers go out of their way to have Winter say that because she was just following orders (a statement that contradicts her previous character imo) and pushing down her emotions, she was the real machine, whereas Penny had been human underneath her apparently easily tossed aside and destructive previous metal body. And I don’t know if this means anything, but in that scene where she and Penny meet when Penny is dying and transferring the maiden powers to Winter, Winter is in her V7 character design, instead of wearing her assistive brace. Like I said, I don’t know if I’m reading into that, but with everything else, it feels like an iffy choice.

So yeah. In the past season CRWBY specifically cultivated a pattern of disrespect, dismissal, and villainization of any non-flesh attributes in my opinion. It seems pretty intentional and clear to me, but I’m willing to accept that maybe this was just a wildly bad uneducated mistake. Here’s the thing about that, though, after the Faunus/Racism allegory, the CRWBY writers should’ve learned their lesson and not touched on any real world topics that they weren’t willing to do the research on and treat with the sensitivity and care and respect the topics needed. Their Faunus/Racism allegory was harmful and hurtful and frankly could’ve sunk them in the water, they should’ve learned to put much more care and effort into their work or stayed the hell away from anything that could further spread the negative stereotypes surrounding real world people. But they didn’t learn their lesson and they’ve continued to push harmful narratives with no awareness or sensitivity. I don’t think you’re over-reacting at all, I think this is something that - intentionally written or otherwise - the writers should be called out on, or they’re just going to continue writing harmful narratives.

Also, I am not disabled, many of my opinions on the treatment of these characters comes from posts I’ve seen from many disabled or neurodivergent RWBY fans (or former RWBY fans,) or other people more affected by these narratives - minus the thing I said about Winter appearing without her brace when she talks to Penny, as it was something I just noticed while typing out this post. Since I’m not disabled, I’m not the best person to talk about these things, so if I got anything wrong in this, anyone more affected, please know you can let me know and I can edit and fix.

#rwde #rwby bashing #anti rwby #anti crwby #anti MKEK #rwby hate #if anyone comes in the comments invalidating or justifying I'll block #pro james ironwood #pro Ironwood #ironwood defense

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