forcedhesitation · 11 months ago
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like clockwork
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wickerfemme · 2 months ago
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Hi! You don't have to answer this, but I'm thinking of starting my ~gainer journey~ soon but I'm a bit worried about what I'll tell friends/family/doctors when they ask why I've gained weight. Is there a script you've kept in mind while talking about it, or maybe an excuse to avoid questions altogether? I really do want this, but I'm quite anxious as to how to deal with possible backlash. Also, you're absolutely*stunning", keep up the good work! OuO
Congrats on your possibly-maybe-beginning ~journey~!
I'm maybe not the best person to speak on this subject; I see my family on a 2–5 year cycle and their opinions don't really enter my life, I do most of my business with my doctor over the phone, and most of my friends are fat and have fat-lib politics. Me gaining weight sort of hasn't come up in discussion.
All that to say: I don't have any preplanned strategies for the event of being stuck in an unwanted "you've gained weight" conversation. I'm aware of the possibility that such a conversation might arise (I have a hard time imagining someone bringing it up a work, but like. I can't outrule it entirely), but it's not a possibility that weighs very heavily on me – and I say this as someone who spends a lot of her time anxiously playing out how potential conversations might unfold!
My only real advice (which is big and hard and makes this bad-ish advice) is to cultivate a robust sense of self, and to let that give you confidence in acting regardless of what other people think about you, even if their relationship to you carries some kind of "authority". Your family can express concern, but on what is that concern based? Your doctor can recommend weight loss, but systemic fatphobia makes that their kneejerk reaction to all medical complaints. You're you, and they aren't; nobody has the complete picture of your thoughts and feelings, even if they think they do. They also don't live in your body, and have no right to it!
Anyway, very best of luck and all my love in navigating this! For what it's worth, I think you should get fat <3
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houseoffourcats · 1 year ago
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What Do You Need to Know Right Now? Pick a Pile and Find Out!
20 July 2023
CW: Illustrated nudity
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I hope you enjoy this reading! If so, please check out my Etsy page for affordable personalized readings. Feedback is also more than welcome. Thanks for your support!
Pile One
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The Wheel of Fortune - III of Cups - III of Wands
With a wheel at the center of the Major Arcana card and two Threes to symbolize momentum, as well as the dancers in the III of Cups, this reading is ultimately about movement and change. With all three cards right side up, it's all good news right now!
Things will unexpectedly start to go quite well for you in all areas of your life, as symbolized by the four elements represented in this card. You'll find yourself passionate and filled with new ideas, while also having happiness and stability. Your friends and family will be proud of and excited for you, and will be there to share the good times with you. The real adventure starts after the celebrations, though. You'll be ready to put your ideas into action or follow through on what you've started. The III of Cups suggests that other people may be joining you. This could be a romantic partner building a healthy relationship with you, other people helping in a charitable or mutual aid effort, or collaborators in a creative project.
What you set off to do might not be what happens, though. The figure in the Wheel of Fortune is blindfolded, after all, and things can change very suddenly. The adventurer in the III of Wands thinks that they can see what's on the other shore, but it's at a distance, so he can only guess at the full details of things over there. Be prepared for things to change, but don't be let down if they do. Even if your luck changes periodically, you still have people who love and respect you there as support, and your goal won't be so far away for some complications to make it impossible.
Pile Two
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VII of Swords - VII of Cups (Reversed) - VIII of Swords
With two Sevens and consecutive Swords cards that visually follow from one another, this is a fascinating spread. Sevens are about discernment and evaluation of one's situation. The suits, meanwhile, seem to show a tension between thoughts and emotions, and warn of the possible consequences of them not playing well together.
the VII of Swords can mean deception, but its imagery suggests that it could be about strategy as well as removing the source of a conflict. Its deceptive meaning could speak to taking action without the knowledge or consent of everyone involved. The VII of Cups reversed, meanwhile, is literally the central card here, getting the figure carrying swords away into the forest in the VII of Swords bound to a tree and left with even more swords in the VIII. While the upright VII of Cups can refer to too much imagination at the expense of the reality of the situation, the reversed VII can signal a false sense of "realism" that leads a person to shut their eyes to new possibilities. They have fears that prevent them from even considering them, but are keeping them in. The VIII here represents being stuck, or stymied, and having more problems than you started out with.
You're in the early stages of trying to resolve a problem, especially one between people. The conflict may involve you, such as between you and a partner, but it could just as easily be about problems that come up as part of work or between people you know. However, someone else thinks this move is too risky or outright pointless and won't (let you) give it a shot, regardless of how well thought out it is. Rather than solving the problem, your going forward with your idea without everyone being on board may lead to someone lashing out or retaliating against you. This doesn't mean the idea is bad. Still, you have to handle this situation carefully and diplomatically to avoid this outcome. Figure out what makes them afraid about your idea, and maybe change your messaging to address that fear. You've already shown yourself to be resourceful; you can find a way through of this!
Pile Three
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The Chariot (Reversed) - Page of Swords (Reversed) - King of Swords (Reversed)
We have three reversed cards here - not necessarily a guaranteed bad outcome, but a warning. While we have a Major Arcana card at the beginning that's "driving" the rest of the spread, the most interesting thing about this spread is that we have two court cards from the same suit - one a page (apprentice) and one a king (master). These could represent two separate people, but they may also show a possible progression within yourself.
A common theme between all three of these cards are that the figures in them are holding sharp objects - a spear in the Chariot, and swords in the two court cards. If you aren’t careful with them, you can do a lot of unintentional harm. The Chariot is a powerful card that represents control and direction, so in reverse it can mean that, even if you still have power, you won't know what to do with it or how to use it responsibly. The Page of Swords, meanwhile, has dropped his wooden practice sword as well as his shield in favor of a metal sword, which he is polishing for use. Because this is the Swords suit, the reverse of this means that you may take on a faulty understanding of the situation, and lack the self-awareness to know you need to handle it differently. Without developing a new framework, you risk becoming the reversed King of Swords, using whatever power you have in a destructive way while being convinced you're in the right.
Chaos and crisis can have a significant of impact on your view of the world, but the resulting framework may be as extreme as the situation that gave rise to it. You may also cling particularly tightly to the beliefs you developed then as a way of keeping yourself safe. These ideas can unfortunately include biases and other worldviews that can be used as justifications to hurt other people, even on a small, interpersonal scale. Have the humility to regularly examine your beliefs and find out where they're coming from as you rise up in the world, so you can use your influence in a way that helps your children, employees, or other people who depend on and look up to you. Even if all you do is pass on what you learned to them, it will have an impact on the world around you, good or bad.
If you got something out of this reading, good or bad, I’d love to hear about it. If you liked it, please also check out my Etsy page for detailed yet affordable personalized reasons.
Thank you in advance for your support. For now, please enjoy Mina and Wes tolerating each other’s company (and waiting to see who can claim the food bowl first):
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shihalyfie · 2 years ago
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So uh...Digimon Seekers being a web novel will be interesting.
It's an interesting format for sure. I'm guessing they're trying to find a way to keep "constant content" going in light of the loss of the anime timeslot and all that (the card game's doing well, but there's only so much it can do by itself).
Speaking of which! Let's talk about the elephant in the room, which is Digimon losing its timeslot and Ghost Game not getting a follow-up anime! In previous occasions, every time Digimon lost a timeslot and the anime went on hiatus again, that meant the franchise was in danger of dying (again), but...as of earlier this year, Digimon is now Toei's third best-selling IP internationally. So it is highly doubtful that the anime is going back on hiatus simply because things aren't doing well.
So, what's actually going on?
We're used to the idea of "Digimon should run back to back if it does well," and that's true of series that are explosively popular (which Digimon is not right now, even if it's not on the verge of dying either), but in actuality, the Fuji TV 9 AM slot is a high-demand one to the point most franchises don't get to run for three years on it consecutively. That kind of thing is rare enough that Japanese fans familiar with the timeslot have commented that Digimon has probably accomplished a lot getting to keep it for the last three years. There are only two IPs that have ever gotten to run for four consecutive years or longer on that slot: one is Dragon Ball (I think "not being as profitable as Dragon Ball" is hardly something to freak out about), and the other is Digimon itself.
That financial report I just linked says that Digimon is Toei's best internationally selling IP including overseas sales. While we've had a lot of reports recently about Digimon's financial success, they all specifically note that it means internationally and not just Japan -- and, granted, that's still important especially because Toei and Bandai have been trying to aim for more of an international market in recent years, but that's what's telling us that the video games and card games are what's carrying Digimon now, not necessarily the anime, which currently has very little influence outside Japan besides the Crunchyroll simulcast (and probably some East Asian language dubs), and I imagine that doesn't contribute very much. And the Adventure: English dub doesn't seem to be coming out anytime soon...
Like I've said, the card game is doing great, and sets have been coming out in Chinese and Korean as of late.
So while I'm no financial analyst, I'm guessing they've decided to put a hold on the kids' anime right now because it's not a very good outlet for their current best option, which is to focus more on building an international market and solid base. That doesn't mean kids' anime will never come back, and it also doesn't mean the franchise isn't already in a much better situation than it was when Frontier, Savers, Xros Wars, and Appmon ended, because the recent success of the video games and card games gives them a lot more of a foothold to do more business ventures, and maybe they can funnel that into actually getting partnerships to dub future kids' anime if they want to do that again. Moreover, it's true that in the past, the franchise would hit life support every time the anime stopped, but that's because the franchise was dependent on having a running anime for attention, which is not the case now because the card game has been doing fine independently of the anime. So I think it's pretty easy to understand that having an ongoing kids' show won't be the best option for them at the current moment, and meanwhile Digimon Seekers is coming out in multiple languages at once, so you can see what the strategy is here.
Of course, I think much of Digimon's best content is in the kids' shows, so I hope it comes back (and I'm certainly not a huge fan of the idea of the only anime we get being from that pipeline that's focusing on nostalgia stuff with Adventure branding), but that's how I see it for now.
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makeste · 3 years ago
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BnHA Chapter 314: ...Or You Live Long Enough to See Yourself Become the Villain
Previously on BnHA: Some random assholes were all “let’s throw exploding spears at All Might and see if it activates his Conqueror’s Haki” and SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKERS, IT DID!! Elsewhere, Lady Nagant confusingly tried to capture Deku alive by shooting him in the stomach, but to be fair I guess that’s what happens when you send an assassin to do a bounty hunter’s job, so yeah. Deku was all “ouch”, and then because this is a shounen he basically just straight up forgot about it, and did a big fancy Smokescreen thing, and then activated his mildly incomprehensible new ki-blasting quirk which he got from the Third. En and the Third were all “hey Deku maybe let’s not just impulsively activate all this shit in the heat of battle when you don’t know how to use it yet and you���re already injured,” and Deku was all “thanks for the quirks guys but I’ll take it from here” and snuck up on Nagant and grabbed her arm and so now what’s going to happen I wonder.
Today on BnHA: Nagant is all “[shoots Deku again]” because of course she is lol. Deku is all “tell me about AFO!” and Nagant is all “why would I tell you anything?” and then proceeds to tell him her entire life story which is FILLED WITH SO MUCH MURDER, YOU GUYS. Holy shit. So basically she was an assassin for the HPSC, which we already knew, but somehow it’s one thing to know that, and another to actually see her running around capping dudes in the forehead and being covered in more blood than the elevator from The Shining. Anyway, so you’ll never believe it, but all that murder had a negative impact on her psychologically, and eventually led her to question everything she believed about hero society, and so she killed her creepy boss and was promptly sent to Tartarus. This extremely fun chapter ends with Overhaul showing up all “HI, HELLO, I’M STILL HERE”, because for some reason he is still here. Why are you still here, Overhaul.
“the beautiful Lady Nagant” oh you know your audience don’t you Horikoshi
well all right then! so I’m guessing this means that she is not, in fact, going to roll over and die just because Deku’s out here all “GOT YA!” like they’re playing a game or tag or something. ffff may the manga gods have mercy on our young suicidal protagonist
lmao so Deku is all “GOD I’M SO SMART, WHAT A GOOD STRATEGY I HAD, CAPITOL JOB THERE OL’ CHAP, CAPITOL” and lol, okay. I mean, it was a good plan though. but I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop here
“I’ll make you give me information on All for One” well there you go, lol. Deku Angst arc still fully engaged. still no light in his eyes either of course. just a lil chaotic ball of sleep deprivation and rage
lol, fucking THANK YOU though
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oh my god what the hell did she do to him lol
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did she shoot him with her elbow??? fucking look at this?? THIS IS WHY WE LISTEN TO HAWKS oh my god Deku are you dead
WHAT’S HAPPENING, IS THIS GOOD OR BAD, WHO’S WINNING
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things that I wish I could tell from this panel which I unfortunately cannot tell
did she stab him or shoot him?? can you imagine if it was the former lol. why does Horikoshi keep stabbing all my kids. look Kacchan now the two of you can match
did she actually hit him or did he get away??
or did she hit him and then he jumped away?? just, what
well anyway, so now Deku is asking her why she sided with AFO, but he seems a lot more pissed off than when he was interrogating Muscular, though. probably because she shot him three times. fair enough
oh my god
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does Lady have a blog here on tumblr dot com?? -- does Horikoshi have a blog here on tumblr motherfucking dot com?? why do I suddenly feel like this man is out here sneakily reading up on all our discourse
oh my god Deku it’s almost like getting up close and personal with someone who can shoot custom bullets from any distance and any position with deadly accuracy was a terrible fucking idea
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IF ONLY SOMEONE HAD WARNED YOU NOT TO ENGAGE WITH HER AT ALL COSTS. IF ONLY SOMEONE HAD HAD THE FORESIGHT TO DO THAT sob. can you imagine how much shorter this series would be if characters actually listened to Hawks. Hawks, and Momo. why do we even let anyone else run the show ever
OH MY GOD
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DEKU, RUN
OH MY GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING
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this looks a lot like what happens to me whenever I play One’s Justice. those fucking combo attacks that you can’t fucking escape from and so your character just has to stand there getting their ass whalloped repeatedly while you wonder why you paid $40 for this
but anyways though. so Lady who did you kill?? I bet they deserved it, don’t worry I forgive you
(ETA: ANYWAY SO FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT LADY NAGANT DID NOTHING WRONG EVER IN HER ENTIRE LIFE. aside from murdering all those innocent people and shit. but there were CIRCUMSTANCES, and THEY WERE EXTENUATING, OKAY.)
-- holy shit
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looks like the HPSC arc is back on the menu boys
so are we about to learn that the HPSC was going full Hydra on people’s asses? secretly dispatching anyone they deemed a threat to society?? “taken care of” as in you fucking shot them??
so then was the “hero” she killed actually one of the guys who was giving or carrying out these orders?? holy shit Lady, up until now I’ve mainly just been stanning you for your flawless eyebrow game and metal af quirk, but this shit could actually get real very quickly, and I am prepared to genuinely and sincerely love the shit out of you depending on what we learn next about your backstory
oh my god?!?
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so wait, hold up. am I reading this right?? basically the HPSC started murdering vigilantes because they were worried they were gaining too much of the public’s favor?? holy fucking shit???
oh my GOD oh my god
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“it’s been a while since I scarred you all with the dead dog and the graphic slaughter of an entire innocent family, huh,” Horikoshi says thoughtfully. “anyway so what do you all think of my new creation, the Spaghetti Bullet.” well, Horikoshi, so you know that squished-up face that Kermit the Frog makes sometimes? yeah. that’s what I think, if you must know lol
holy hell the juxtaposition
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I’m actually kind of surprised to learn she had a lot of fans? what with her M.O., I was expecting her to have been an underground hero like Aizawa, but apparently not? then again I still have absolutely no idea how any of that works. I really need to read Vigilantes already
oh snap
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nothing like a sweet dose of assassin trauma to finally round out our BnHA Trauma Bingo!! well done guys, we finally collected all of the traumas! hooray!
noooo Ladyyyyyyy
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holy shit what a fucking chapter. like, this man promised us an assassin, and went and fucking delivered. I was not expecting it to be this dark, lol, but holy shit I am here for it
you know, at some point you have to start questioning the logistics of this, though
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I mean, how do I put this... her quirk isn’t exactly subtle. that murder scene from a few pages back looked like the first season of Dexter for fuck’s sake, that’s not exactly “disappearing” people now is it?? and I mean, her bullets are literally made from her own fucking hair; it seems like it would be impossible not to leave any evidence behind. did no one start to wonder who the fuck was going around murdering all these people? or did the people who asked too many questions wind up getting conveniently “disappeared” themselves??
and hey, speaking of asking too many questions
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holy shit is he blackmailing her??!? or no, wait -- what the hell is he reaching for in his pocket boy you better not
(ETA: what exactly was this man expecting fdslkjd. “uh oh my unstoppable hair trigger assassin who is literally always armed is asking questions, better announce that I am going to shoot her and then reach into my pocket veeeeeery slowly while she stands there all of two feet away.” how did this guy ever function as the head of a shadow government with these decision-making skills, I’m genuinely baffled.)
OH MY GOD LADY YES
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this. right here. is why “run the fuck away” was damn good solid fucking advice. oh shit. but my god did this dude have it coming
so wait lol has she just been narrating all of this out loud to Deku this entire time
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okay but can we just stop for a moment and appreciate the fact that they’re having this deep conversation about the dark secrets of hero society right in the middle of their intense mid-air sniper free-for-all lol
holy shit you guys, Nagant’s the one that should have made the tell-all video. I mean, no offense to you, Dabi, I’m sure you worked very hard on your video and did a ton of crunches every day so that you would look good with your shirt off while you told the world all about how your dad was a jerk. but seriously...
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this is already like 100x more convincing than what he put out. also, gasp, is it another flashback
yes it is oh my gosh
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so the HPSC Chairladyperson whom ReDestro killed used to be this guy’s direct subordinate, huh? I wonder if she kept the whole assassin program going after she took over. can’t say I was feeling any particular kind of grieving way about her death before, but certainly not now lol
but unfortunately Nagant has finally lost me at the same place where all of the villains inevitably do, which is to say when they somehow make the dubious mental leap from “society sucks and is bad” to “let’s just be openly fucking evil lol, worth a shot.” because when heroes murder innocent people and cover it up, that’s obviously bad (and I mean, it absolutely fucking is lol, don’t get me wrong); but when villains murder innocent people straight up out in the open without giving a fuck, they’re righteous revolutionaries? just -- is there really no non-murdery middle ground here?? I guess that’s what Deku and co. are for, hopefully
anyways oh shit Deku seems to have spotted something?? and he’s doing something weird with Blackwhip what
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oh, he spotted her, I guess
lmaooooo
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new favorite Deku panel right here. a masterpiece
oh my god you guys our little boy is starting to grow up before our eyes
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you love to see it. and you can tell with those elipses that he’s gearing up to say something really cool and determined and badass like the shounen protag he is, yes please, Deku ilu so much please do your thing
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
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IS THAT A TEENY TINY LIL EYE SPARKLE THERE OMG. still not anywhere close to his usual standard, but that’s some clear resolve there in his eyes there at long last! it always shines the most clearly when he’s being true to himself and his ideals, so I love that it finally shows up again here, when he’s reaffirming his resolve to help others no matter what
uh oh so what’s Lady going to do now
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is it time for a trump card?? kinda sounding like it’s time for a trump card
???
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I lied btw, this is my new favorite Deku panel. but anyways what is she up to now lol
ohhhhhh, lol
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why does she seem shocked, lol. here I thought this was part of her plan, but apparently she forgot all about ol’ “Look Ma, No Hands” back up there
and so I guess that’s it for this week! so we’ve learned basically everything now about Lady and her quirk and her history with the HPSC and why she agreed to work for AFO. pretty much the only question that still remains is why the hell she decided to drag this asshole along for the ride! because I still cannot figure that out dsklkjlkf
(ETA: actually now I’m kind of wondering if they maybe have some past connection we don’t know about yet. when exactly was Nagant sent to Tartarus? is it possible she was ordered to track down and kill Overhaul at some point before that, but never got around to it? or something else along those lines? idk but now I’m curious.)
anyways Deku, I know that your empathy has no bounds and that you’re on a “saving villains” kick right now, and good on you... but also, if you decide to just like, skip all of that shit just this once, absolutely no one will hold it against you, I’m just saying. just, all I’m asking here is maybe let’s think twice before we start trying to reform guys who imprison and torture little girls for profit. I think maybe that’s a good place to draw the line. next week is going to be a very interesting chapter lol
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ouyangzizhensdad · 3 years ago
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What keeps stumping me is this: LWJ takes WWX to the Cloud Recesses to protect him from JC, then, when they leave with the arm, he keeps dragging him back when WWX tries to escape to, again, protect him from JC... But then, after the Xinglu Ridge, he lets him go and trusts that WWX will meet him back at the inn. Why? And anyway, what was he planning to do, drag WWX around all his life? He had duties, he couldn't have followed WWX himself to provide protection, so it would have been exactly [1/2]
that — dragging him around or leaving him shielded behind the walls of the Cloud Recesses. In theory, if "MXY" became a Lan disciple, JC couldn't have touched him... But LWJ knew who "MXY" was and that WWX would mostly refuse, like he did multiple times before. It's great that after WWX realizes LWJ doesn't intend to harm or punish him, he goes along willingly — but what if he didn't? What then? JC was still out there, after all. [2/2]
Hi anon,
I think it's a little bit of a stretch to imagine LWJ's plan was to just keep 'dragging' WWX along forever. They arrived in the CR, spent one night there, and the next day LWJ was busy with the arm which was of course a priority. What would have happened if the Lans had been able to suppress the resentful energy of the arm on that day, and LWJ had not felt the responsibility to leave to solve the mystery? It's hard to say. But now that they were in a place that was safe, and that there wouldn't have been another matter that would have taken priority, I don't think it's far fetched to believe that LWJ would have discussed things with WWX or put into place a way to bring him to a safe place outside of the CR if he did not want to stay. Considering his grief over his mother, and her situation, as well as his care for WWX’s welfare, I’m wary to believe his gameplan could ever be just ‘guess I’ll keep WWX in the CR, even if against his will, forever, bc jc is out there’.
I think it's important as well to remember that regardless of LWJ's motives, WWX does not choose to remain with him because of the protection LWJ can provide him, or simply because he suddenly decided to trust him out of a single demonstration of trustworthiness.
Even before they left the CR, WWX's words and actions revealed he was attached to and protective of LWJ--even as a crisis is occurring, his thoughts keep going back to LWJ, and whether he is okay:
When the bell of the watchtower started ringing on its own, it only meant one thing—that an accident happened to the people performing the summoning ritual inside. [...]
Seeing that Lan Wangji did not appear, Wei Wuxian had a foreboding feeling. If Lan Wangji were still in the Cloud Recesses, he would have hurried over immediately, as he heard the alarming chimes of the bell, unless…
Suddenly, the black door burst open with a bang. A white-clothed disciple rushed outside, staggering and stumbling.
[...]
Wei Wuxian grabbed his hand at once, speaking in a low voice, “Which being’s spirit are you summoning? Who else is inside? Where’s Hanguang-jun?!”
It seemed as if the disciple had trouble breathing, “Hanguang-jun told me to run away…”
[...]With the hastily created bamboo flute still by his waist, he went up the stairs in just a few strides. He kicked the door of the mingshi and commanded, “Open!”
WWX is the one who offers to go with LWJ, but of course we know it was because he thought it would be an opportunity to get away.
The few nodded, “Okay! Are you going to travel down the mountain?”
Lan Wangji gave a slight nod. Wei Wuxian had already stealthily shifted behind him, talking to himself in a loud, cheerful way, “Yes, yes, yes, we can finally get off this mountain and elope together!”
[...] Wei Wuxian originally wanted to sneak away during their expedition off the mountain. However, even though he attempted to run away multiple times, it always ended with Lan Wangji carrying him back with one hand holding the back of his collar. He changed his strategy, sticking to Lan Wangji as hard as he could. At night, especially, he would persistently climb into Lan Wangji’s bed, with the intention that Lan Wangji would become disgusted and use his sword to throw him away. Despite this, no matter how hard he messed around, Lan Wangji steadily stood his ground. Whenever Wei Wuxian wriggled into his blankets, he would use a light slap to make Wei Wuxian’s body rigid, and then stuff him into the other set of blankets in a proper position, where he would remain until daylight broke. Wei Wuxian suffered a ton of losses and complaint about his sore body after he woke up. He could not help but think: Now that he grew up, he also became less fun than before. In the past, he would become shy whenever he was teased, not to mention that he did it in quite an amusing way. But now, not only does he remain unmovable no matter what, he even learned how to counterattack. How can this be?!
However, in the same chapter, as they have spent more time together, WWX starts hating the idea of being separated from LWJ, although he cannot yet put into words why he feels this way:
After walking for some distance, Wei Wuxian unintentionally turned around and looked. Lan Wangji was behind him, still standing at the same place, staring toward his direction.
Wei Wuxian could not help but slow his footsteps.
He could not tell why, but he vaguely felt that he should not walk so fast, should not be leaving Lan Wangji behind like this.
We can also to a degree concur that WWX already feels safe enough around LWJ to seek him as a source of safety and comfort when faced with a dog, which happens a lot during the Xinglu Ridge arc, to the point that he unconsciously calls for him when JC sics Fairy on him while LWJ is away. WWX is also protective of LWJ in his own way even at that point:
Wei Wuxian immediately understood whose name he had unconsciously called out.
“It really is quite curious how far he went to protect you,” Jiang Cheng smiled menacingly, “back on Dafan Mountain.”
A moment later, he corrected himself, “No. You weren’t necessarily the one whom Lan Wangji was protecting. After all, the GusuLan Sect couldn’t have forgotten what you did with that loyal dog of yours. How could someone so celebrated for his righteousness tolerate the likes of you? Maybe he’s familiar with this body that you stole instead.”
His words were cruel and sinister. Every sentence seemed well-meaning on the surface, but was actually derogatory. Wei Wuxian could not bear with it any longer.
“Watch your language.”
“I’ve never cared for such things, don’t you remember?” Jiang Cheng responded,
“Oh, right.” Wei Wuxian mocked.
Although WWX tells LWJ that he would meet him back after they separated, he could have easily chosen not to do it. After all, compared to all the tricks he tried to flee before, it would have been nothing to go back on this 'promise'. He was in a forest, at night, where no one but JL knew he was. He could have left at any time. And when LWJ left, he knew this--that WWX would potentially not come back, hence why his expression is so shaken after having waited hours for WWX to return (now we can wonder how long he would have stayed on that bridge, waiting, hoping). But, again, solving the mystery of the arm took priority over ensuring WWX's safety (and, considering WWX managed to be discovered and taken by JC during these few hours, it's not like his fears were unfounded).
While WWX seems to realise that LWJ is on his side, there is no big moment of thinking "he doesn't want to punish/harm me". Likewise, there is no considerations of how JC could be looking for him after his escape and the dangers inherent in that. It seems almost like another unconscious decision.
He had always thought that Jiang Cheng would be on his side, and Lan Wangji on the side opposite to him. He could never have imagined that things would turn out so differently.
Wei Wuxian walked toward the rendezvous point where he and Lan Wangji were supposed to meet. Nobody walked among the sparse lights that flickered in the night. Without having to look around, a white-robed figure stood at the end of the street, standing motionless with his head hung low.
In conclusion, WWX would have never stayed alongside LWJ (or anyone else for that matter) simply for protection. As well, it is extremely unlikely that LWJ's thought process at this point of the narrative was 'I'll just drag WWX along for the rest of our lives''--but that the arm took priority over resolving the conundrum around WWX's safety, and that indeed, when the situation presented itself, he put first what I'll call his night hunting duties for a lack of a better term while taking the risk that WWX would decide to leave on his own. Is it the most 'healthy' way of approaching the situation? Honestly, I don't care. Instead I think it’s much more important to wonder: is it coherent with the characterisation, the characters' motivations and the unfolding of the plot?
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tehrevving · 3 years ago
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Stop and Stall What’s Safe
When a stray bullet ricochets, Dante doesn't know how to save you. With a last ditch effort, he remembers how the bruises on your skin used to heal after sex, and just prays that it works.
Dante x Reader (Reader is neutral but can get pregnant), Gunshot wounds, Angst, Masturbation.
I had a little bit to drink, and was in mood. So this is like, angst but with a crack premise.
I don't know what to say about this apart from that Reader gets shot, Dante doesn't know what to do and ejaculates on the wound to try and heal it. That's it, That's the premise. Enjoy lol.
Dante’s heart is still racing, even though it’s been hours. You’ve been asleep on his chest for a while now and even though you’re breathing and warm and alive, his head just won’t stop spinning. It had been his fault. He’d almost lost you because he was too fucking stupid to think about the consequences of his own actions. He was terrified, lost in his own thoughts with no idea how to go about not making the same mistake again.
He’d never liked involving you in his line of work, even though of course sometimes he didn’t have a choice. It’s not like he could always keep his lives separate. Dangerous creatures often decided to try and invade his home that he shared with you, though luckily they never seemed to attack while he was away. They would always wait for him to appear before they made their move, he was never sure why, but he was thankful for it. 
In general though, in a fight, you knew what to do. You would hang back, away from the battle, arming yourself with one of the numerous weapons that were stored underneath his desk, or under your desk, or behind some of the artwork. So when a bunch of low tier fucking assholes decided to disturb the peace today, it had all gone according to plan. To start with anyway. 
He’d been fighting them, dispatching the weak ones easily. They were never a match for him anyway, but especially not when he was showing off for his mate. It had been easy, he hadn’t been concerned, or worried at all, until a Chaos had sauntered its way into the office. 
Dante knew that they were fast, far faster than you as a plain old human would be able to handle. So he’d focused his attention on it, trusting you to dispatch any of the small fry if they managed to get close. He’d tried the usual strategy, shoot to stun, and then tear it limb from limb once those sharp spikes were no longer a factor. 
He’d never had to consider the enclosed space before though, while fighting something so fast, so high powered. He’d aimed properly, got it in his sights right in between the eyes. He’d waited until he’d thought the timing had been perfect, but even though he liked to think so, Dante wasn’t perfect. 
He hadn’t been able to anticipate the way that the creature had moved, the way that it had shifted slightly and thrown his marksmanship off. That the piece of shit would shift slightly, throw off his aim, that the thing would start rolling, moving its spines so fast that no bullet would have a hope of reaching it. He never expected the angle at which his bullet would ricochet off it’s shining carapace at full speed. Dante never fucking anticpated that any devil hell bent on destroying him would be smart enough to deflect his weapons straight into your god damn body. 
He’d watched it happen in slow motion, the bullet deflect and start to turn in your direction. He’d seen your eyes widen, but he’d not been fast enough to do anything. Dante had watched as you crumpled to the floor as his stray bullet hit you, he’d watched it part your flesh, and embed itself deep within your abdomen. 
Fuck, he’d been overtaken by an all consuming rage, he’d never felt anything like it before. It was like he wasn’t himself anymore, like his subconscious was moving without permission from his physical body. The entire world around him slowed down as he lost control. He wouldn’t have been able to recall exactly what he had done if you’d asked him, but every single damn devil in the building had been destroyed by his hand within an instant. 
The Chaos was the last to go down, the ultimate subject of his rage. He moved faster than it could react to, his claws ripping it to absolute shreds. It didn’t even get a chance to shriek before it hit the ground, dead, and his entire focus shifted to you.
Dante was by your side seconds after you’d taken his deflected bullet, surrounded by the shrieks of dying devils around him. He grabbed your body before you hit the ground, lying you down carefully onto your back. You had looked up at him, with shock and horror and fear in your eyes, before immediately pressing your hand to the blood pouring from your abdomen. He’d expected to see disgust, or hatred, because he was the one that did this to you, but instead, you’d just been terrified. 
He hadn’t known what to do, he’d just panicked, his entire mind wiped blank. You’d started speaking, throwing him out of the haze that had threatened to overwhelm all of his senses. “Bandage,” you’d said to him, snapping him out of his stupor. “Dante. Pressure on the wound.”
So he had torn the shirt he was wearing to pieces, the fabric didn’t matter in the slightest. He’d ripped the material from his front, wrapping it around his hand. He didn’t know how much pressure to use, how much pressure humans needed, so when he pressed the fabric against your slick abdomen, it didn’t seem to do anymore. 
“Harder,” you’d barked at him, and so he pressed down with the sort of pressure that might have bruised you on a normal day. He didn’t know what to do, he could feel your blood pouring out from the wound, even through the layer of fabric bound around his palm. 
You were surprisingly calm, or maybe you were just in shock. He didn’t know how being in shock felt, or what this much pain might actually feel like. He could be cut in half and recover from it a trace of a scar of course, do he had no frame of reference. “Is it bad?” you had asked him, and he hadn’t known how to reply. 
“Did it hit any organs? I can’t feel anything,” you’d asked him, and in the moment he had ignored the way that a small amount of blood had bubbled up from your throat to your lips while you’d spoken, but now that it’s all over, he can’t help but imagine the whole fucking thing in vivid detail.
He’d tried to think. He knows when his own organs are compromised, it’s a slightly different feeling, but as he’d looked down at you, he’d realised he doesn’t know how to map his own experiences to your body. You’re so much smaller than he is, and you have more organs in your abdomen than he does, don’t you? “I don’t know,” is what he finally manages to say, because he doesn’t know how else to respond. 
“Call an ambulance,” is what you’d said next, but as he’d looked around the shop, and at the carnage his own enraged demon had caused, he knew there was no way anyone would be able to get to you. 
“I can’t. Fuck. I can carry you. I can fly,” he’d said, panicked, desperate. He’d tried to move you, but you had screamed in pain, a sound that he’d never heard before, a sound that tore him in half all the way down to his soul. He’d immediately put you back down, but even then, your screaming hadn’t stopped. 
His entire hand had been wet, your blood welling up around his crappy shirt. He was going to lose you, because he didn’t fucking know human first aid, because he hadn’t fucking thought about his actions and shot a firearm in an enclosed space, against something that could easily deflect bullets at insane speeds. “What do I do?” he’d asked you desperately, but you hadn’t replied. You’d been in shock, and Dante doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how pale your face was. He’d started crying and he hadn’t even noticed. He hadn’t known what to do. 
“I don’t know how to stop the bleeding.” He’d been distraught. He knows the basics, but not how to save you. The pitiful fabric of his shirt had been dyed completely red, and he knows it’s not absorbing your blood anymore, there’s just too much of it. 
He’d pulled his hand away, just to get a look at your wound. It had been bad. The blood wasn’t stopping, and he could see your insides, his bullets are much more powerful than a normal calibre, even a ricochet. He’d willed himself to think as he’d felt your breathing start to slow, and felt your life starting to drift away. Fuck. He wasn’t going to let that happen. 
His brain for some reason, had decided to fixate on when you’re first gotten together. When he hadn’t been able to control himself, and he’d left bruises on your skin. He’d noticed the bruises, felt guilty about them, but then suddenly they’d started disappearing once the two of you had decided to become exclusive, and stopped using condoms, and started pulling out and spilling himself on your belly instead. He remembered the bruises returning though, once you’d confirmed that birth control would still work on his half devil spunk, and he stopped pulling out. 
It had been stupid, and a fucking long shot. But he hadn’t known what else to do, and your lips had been turning blue right in front of his eyes. He hadn’t know how the fuck he’d planned to manage it, but as he’d pressed down on your abdomen with slick fingers, he’d started struggling to undo his fly with the other. 
It had felt wrong, so fucking wrong, as he’d pulled out his cock. He hadn’t been hard, but there had been no other options. He’d started stroking himself, and of course nothing had happened, arousal had been the last damn thing that his panicked mind was expecting. 
He couldn’t keep looking at you, watching the life drain from your face. He’d shut his eyes, imagined you teasing and encouraging him. He’d imagined the way you would bite your lip and look up at him through your lashes while egging him on.  
It had started to work eventually, but he was so worried it wasn’t fast enough. His dick had started to rise and for the first time in his life, as a virile and overeager half devil, he’d wondered if he could ejaculate at half mast.
He’d pulled out all the fucking stops, because he hadn’t known what else to do. He’d pressed down on your wound with one hand, trying to block out the feeling of your heartbeat starting to slow while he stroked himself.
He’d twisted his hand on the tip of his dick, stroking loosely and then putting pressure on the base, before moving back up. Of course he knows how to get off, but it’s completely different under pressure. 
It had been a struggle, but the longer that he had kept his eyes closed and pretended, the easier that it had gotten. It had become easier to convince his penis that this wasn’t a life or death situation, that he was just casually jerking off and not using it as a last ditch attempt to save your life. 
He’d gotten there eventually, though all of his progress had almost been ruined when he had to lift his sticky palm from your flesh. The wet sound had broken his heart. He hated the way that he could hear your laboured breathing start to bubble up from your lungs when he released the pressure. 
He’d just hoped that this would fucking work. 
Dante had taken his dick in hand, lined himself up, and with a terribly reluctant moan, shot his seed all over your wound. He’d tried his best to hold back tears as he watched the white settle over the red staining your skin, watching with bated breath, wishing for anything to happen. 
He’d been able to see it right in front of his damn eyes, that his cum was slowly disappearing, sinking into your wound and reducing the amount of red. He’d watched as the bleeding had gradually stopped, and as your skin began to knit itself back together. 
He’d waited with baited breath, watching as every trace of what had just happened disappeared from your skin, within moments there wasn’t even a scar on your abdomen. The only evidence remaining being your blood staining your skin, and his hands and the floor, and the tears streaming down his face. 
He’d pulled you to his chest, begging for you to wake up, wiping his eyes on your hair. The office had been a disgrace, was still a disgrace. There was blood everywhere, sticky stains from where he’d ripped the damn devils apart, and of course your own life essence, staining the floorboards by his desk. 
Eventually you had stirred though, eyes disorientated and unfocused. You had been in no state to do anything for yourself, but he didn’t care. He’d carried you against his chest, washed the blood off of your now healed skin, and off his own and then gotten you into bed. 
You’d been exhausted and incoherent, immediately curling up against his chest and falling asleep, but his mind couldn’t stop racing. He’d been so fucking close to losing you and he hadn’t even known what to do to give you a fighting chance. 
His last ditch effort had been disgusting, even though it had worked, and he’s horrified with himself. Repulsed by the fact that he’d even considered it, but horrified by the fact that he’d actually been able to get off to you dying. It makes him reconsider everything. 
Dante knows that he won’t sleep at all tonight, but that’s okay. He had to watch over you, and make sure that you don’t stop breathing, that nothing else happens to you. He cries again, his face pressed to the pillow to try and muffle the sounds so that he doesn’t wake you. He vows that he’s going to be better, that he’s going to learn how to save your goddamn life next time, no matter what it takes, and that he’s not going to let anything like this happen again.
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incorrect-pokespe-quotes · 4 years ago
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Let’s Talk About Norman
I’m going to start off by telling you all something you probably already know: Norman is abusive. I try not to use super strong language on this blog because calling someone abusive / toxic is a pretty big deal, but Norman is an abuser, full stop. Aside from the obvious physical violence though, there’s a lot of emotional trauma he causes Ruby through his actions— this post is mostly going to be talking about Norman’s emotional abuse and how it affects Ruby’s psyche and actions throughout the arc instead of just “oh he punched his son down some stairs” because I think it goes way deeper than that. With that out of the way, the rest of the post is below the cut!
PHYSICAL VIOLENCE
I can’t talk about Ruby and Norman without mentioning this— it’s the most clear cut evidence of his abuse on-panel. He punches his son down the stairs, engages in a high stakes fight with him, and puts him in mortal danger (which Ruby has to save himself from). What I’m concerned with isn’t the actual incidence of violence itself, but rather the emotional baggage that comes with it.
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The interesting thing about the Big Fight scene to me is that Norman instigates the conflict. Norman lures Ruby into a “dark and scary building” in the rain and away from others, appears behind him, threatens him, and throws him against a wall. The only thing Ruby had done in that moment is ask his dad how / why he had found him— Norman was the instigator of violence. It is Ruby’s reaction to this immediately violent start that segues into the next Big Thing about their relationship.
ENVIRONMENT OF FEAR
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It is obvious from the minute Norman appears on panel that he is intimidating. Multiple characters throughout the arc mention that they are scared of / intimidated by him, but none are more obvious than Ruby. In fact until we reach the scene at the Weather Institute, Norman hasn’t been shown in a positive light at all from Ruby’s perspective. Ruby continuously mentions fear about his father: he imagines his father grabbing him, looking angrily at him, and generally seems to be afraid of him. Ruby expresses worry and concern about the consequences of his father’s anger— and that’s ALL he thinks about. Ruby mentions explicitly that he has seen “Norman’s Dark Side” and tries to hide as soon as he appears. He even shivers at the mere mention of Norman. Ruby’s entire motivation is his fear of his dad, which is bad, obviously. 
Every thought about Norman that Ruby has up until the Weather Institute about Norman express fear and stress Norman’s emotional distance. Whether or not Ruby and Norman love each other is not of importance here, what is important is that Ruby has constant worry and anxiety about how Norman will react. His entire motivation at the beginning of the arc is centered around doing things behind Norman’s back and giving him definitive proof of Ruby’s accomplishments— Ruby is so nervous around Norman that he considers communicating to be a risk. This is typical abuse victim behavior and it continues through the arcs. Living under the constant threat of (often violent) punishment has taught Ruby that disagreements and communication in general are dangerous and can spiral into violence very, very quickly— he displays this same fear time and time again.
Quick Aside: As everyone here probably knows, the main conflict in the oras arc is centered around Ruby’s unwillingness to tell Sapphire what is going on for fear of how she will react. Ruby’s hiding of his memory of their confession in the Emerald arc is the same— Ruby refuses to communicate because he is afraid of how Sapphire will react. His main emotional flaw is the fact that he is driven by fear; Norman has shown him there are consequences to communication and Ruby carries this lesson throughout his entire life. He is a victim of abuse and this hampers his ability to communicate and be emotionally vulnerable. He is so caught up in the idea of consequences that he is more than willing to lie or omit the truth to avoid the consequences of talking to people about stressful topics. This is not to say that Ruby’s actions are excusable— he’s still a dick with communication issues, but whether or not Kusaka intended it, Norman’s abuse and its consequences define Ruby’s emotional arc.
ANGER ISSUES
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I can’t really talk about the environment of fear that Norman created without talking about his anger issues. He crushes a phone, shoves people out of the way, knocks multiple Pokemon out at once, and otherwise acts aggressively in various situations throughout the arc without any real Reason. As if these hints weren’t enough, we actually get confirmation through Ruby’s mother that Norman “does this often”— and judging by Birch’s reaction, these displays of destructive anger aren’t normal in in-universe. Whether or not there is a violent / strict parenting style within the universe doesn’t matter, because Norman is shown to be uncharacteristically aggressive in comparison to other adults in the series. Judging by Ruby’s reaction at the Weather Institute, he implies that his type of violence towards him isn’t uncommon; he seems almost resigned to it.
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To wrap up this section: Norman’s aggressiveness is atypical even in-universe, he is shown to be unable and unwilling to curb his violent anger, and this creates an environment of fear among his family that permanently impacts Ruby’s ability to communicate effectively with others.
PART 2
DISCLAIMER: This is where things get… dicey. Everything I’ve mentioned previously is rooted in the actual drawings and actions of the characters or overarching themes / problems. This next part however focuses on dialogue. It is almost impossible to truly understand the tone of each line without being a fluent Japanese speaker (which I am not) so instead I’m going to use Viz and CY to the best of my ability for this section. I’m not going to extrapolate this to Kusaka’s intentions, since without the original work that’s nearly impossible, but I can at least talk about the way these come off in English.
EMOTIONAL ABUSE
Admittedly, Viz is the worst about this. They constantly hype Norman up and excuse his behavior, outright censoring some of the physical and emotional abuse. Viz absolutely mangling the tone of RS, however, is a post for another time.
Because Norman actually speaks to Ruby at length a grand total of twice times in the RS arc, we can break down his actions into these two instances: the first is at the weather institute and the second is as he’s dying.
Rather than go based on overall theme, this scene is best done line by line (this is using the CY version due to limited censorship compared to Viz). 
Scene 1: Volume 17, Chapters 208-210
(Norman is dangling Ruby off the roof of a building by his collar. There are sharp rocks at the bottom)
Ruby: Re… release me…! Norman: Insolent brat!! Is that how you talk to your father?!
To start, Norman uses tone policing and deflection. He focuses on the fact that Ruby is “talking back” to him and making demands of his father, which doesn’t acknowledge Ruby’s request or the fact that Ruby is being dangling over the roof of a building. Also note that this is the first time the words are bolded and that they stay this way throughout the fight— Norman verbally escalates the fight. Norman is abusing his position of power over Ruby in order to excuse his actions and pass the blame back to his son.
Ruby: I don’t care how furious you are with me… I’m ready for it!
(Norman decks Ruby down a flight of stairs)
Norman: Why did you run away from home?!
Note once again that Norman is implied to start raising his voice first even when Ruby isn’t. There’s another deflection here: Norman changes the subject rather than actively respond to anything Ruby says.
Norman: Well? Say something! You’d better voice your complaints right now!!
(Ruby has a conversation with the Swimmer, who advises him to apologize to avoid his father’s rage and “just go home” which… fuck you Swimmer Jack. I’m skipping that part of the dialogue bc it isn’t that important).
(While Ruby is debating what to do, Norman’s Slaking lifts the stairs that Ruby is on and tries to fling him into next Tuesday).
Ruby is physically prevented from escaping by being dangled above Norman. I shouldn’t have to tell why physically preventing someone from leaving an argument is a bad thing.
(Ruby decides to fight Norman)
Note that Norman is physically and emotionally forcing Ruby into two possible options: Fight or be obedient. He is preventing Ruby from running and deflecting Ruby’s attempts to explain himself. He then shifts the blame to Ruby *again*, attacking Ruby and his pokemon with full force and implying it was Ruby who instigated the conflict in the first place.
Norman: … so you wish to fight me? … Iron Tail and Hyper Beam… I was the one who taught you those attacks. There’s nothing about your attacks and strategies I don’t know about. You’re just wasting your time! Give up!
Here, Norman does two things: he stresses Ruby’s dependence on him and his power over Ruby. It’s a typical “your success is dependent on me” and a “there is no option except obedience” rhetoric, and is likewise typical of abusers. Norman is stressing the things Norman has gifted to Ruby (battling knowledge) and using whatever he can to force Ruby to do what he wants— he’s exerting his control.
(Ruby turns the tide of the battle, so Norman likewise switches tactics by attacking Ruby himself and attempting to hit him with a staircase. Ruby falls down the stairs and is dangling over a pit of spikes when Norman stands on the edge, blocking Ruby’s only escape route).
Norman: Now will you come quietly? Stop being so stubborn
Not only is Norman forcing his son to choose between obedience and Literal Death, he also shifts the blame again. He excuses his own actions by claiming it is Ruby’s stubbornness that forced him into this position. He deflects the whole “putting my 11 year old in harm’s way” by claiming Ruby’s own resistance to Norman’s violence is the trigger for the violence itself. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s victim-blaming nonetheless and sadly, it works
(Flashback time: Norman admits he was going to give Ruby permission to participate in contests and gets emo about it. They fall, but Norman catches Ruby. This doesn’t matter though, because they both end up falling and Ruby uses his running shoes to save them both).
Ruby: (thinking) Ru- running shoes… my birthday present from dad… saved both… our lives
Ruby displays pretty typical abuse victim behavior here, focusing not on Norman’s 3 threats to literally kill him but instead on the One Good Thing Norman did. He doesn’t mention that it was Ruby himself who saved them both or that Norman was the one who put them in danger in the first place— he’s in total denial about the severity of everything that happened.
(At this point, Norman looms above Ruby with an angry expression and a raised pokeball. Bystanders panic because it appears that Norman is going to attack Ruby who, by the way, is unconscious on the ground, but Norman gets a surprise call from Winona and turns away after realizing that Winona can see him).
“I only stopped attacking my son when I realized people were watching”… alright fuck off then Norman
Norman: HEY!! Idiot son! You disobeyed your parents, then you ran away from home. I’ve had enough! Just do what you want! In return, you’d better accomplish your goals!! A man should complete what he has set out to do… … before he can return home!!
Hoo boy. Norman never apologizes, deflects all the blame onto Ruby, insults him twice, and then tries to save face with Winona and the people around him by giving Ruby permission to do contests— which he was apparently planning to do all along. He emphasizes the things Ruby did in response to Norman’s actions (Ruby ran away from home because he knew his dad would be unsupportive and gets violent during disagreements, so in essence Norman is to blame for backing him into a corner). Norman twists the narrative in order to make Ruby the instigator in every case, justifying Norman’s responses as reactions to Ruby’s problematic behavior
Swimmer Jack: Isn’t that a wonderful father? Ruby: Thank you… father.
Ok first of all Jack is a dumbass, so jot that down. Second of all, while it’s unintentional, Ruby is being gaslit to hell and back. It is only after Norman’s omission of all the abusive behavior and bystanders’ affirmation of Norman’s love that Ruby starts to think positively towards his father. The threat Ruby used to think was so large has been downplayed and outright denied by the people around him, so Ruby’s prior fear of Norman diminishes. Ruby’s fear of Norman and the violence Norman took against him is denied, downplayed, and ignored, so Ruby begins to doubt his own animosity towards his father. Thanks Swimmer Jack you unintentionally gaslit an 11 year old.
SCENE 2: (this one is much shorter, thank god)
(Norman, while he is dying, explains the whole deal with how he was ordered to search for Rayquaza yada yada. Throughout the exchange, Ruby gets increasingly upset).
Ruby: (thinking) barred from the test and forced to search for Rayquaza… It must be some kind of punishment! What could Dad have done to warrant such… why was he made responsible… ?!
Ruby: … … but… come to think of it, dad is not someone who makes mistakes easily… something’s not right!
Slight aside, Ruby has been so convinced of his father’s power by others that he is unwilling to even CONSIDER that his dad fucked up, which… wow!
Ruby: That day… Dad must have taken the rap for someone else… and… (flashbacks to Salamence Incident) that person… was….
Ruby: (out loud) … me?! That person who set Rayquaza free… was it me…?!
Norman: Yes.
And then he dies!
(Technically he says “oh I did all that out of love” (paraphrased) and then dies but it’s just a continuation of the previous thing).
Norman, before dying, does not say “I’m proud of you” or “I’m sorry for everything” or anything remotely comforting, instead he says “hey Ruby, you’re responsible for my death and all your childhood trauma alongside your friend’s. Peace.” (this is paraphrased).
Even on his actual deathbed, Norman places the blame on Ruby for Norman’s own actions. He makes Ruby feel guilty for Norman leaving, Norman hiding information from him, and Ruby’s tumultuous childhood.
CONCLUSION
None of this is to say that Norman doesn’t love Ruby or that Ruby doesn’t love him back— I’m fairly positive the two of them love each other dearly and want the best for each other. However, Norman is a child abuser who reacts violently, instigates violence, and then turns around and denies said violence. He creates a culture of fear among his family, gives Ruby some serious communication issues, and the narrative takes his side. Norman is a child abuser in canon and has a very VERY profound effect on Ruby which has emotional ramifications throughout Ruby’s entire character arc all the way until oras.
TLDR: Normans sucks man
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saphirered · 3 years ago
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Fight For Dessert?
And here it finally is, part two to the last Essek x Eldritch Knight reader request. 
A walk through the streets of Rosohna did you good but Essek was still refusing to let you go anywhere isolated with him without supervision besides his home or the Xhorhaus after the whole ordeal with the Volstruckers. The presence of the Aurora Watch brought him more comfort than it ever had done. Not for himself but the sense of security that you wouldn’t be alone if trouble found you. 
The two of you walk or float perhaps a little bit closer than may be socially acceptable but neither of you seem aware or care enough. A guard of the Aurora Watch rushes over to you a little out of breath and gives a short bow to both you and Essek. 
“What is it?” Essek asks in a tone befitting of the Shadowhand, demeanour changing to a more cold and distant one at the approach of the guard. 
“A message for you Shadowhand. And one for the Knight.” The guard holds out two delicate envelopes stamped with a deep purple seal, names written in beautiful cursive. You take the one addressed to you with a confused look and can see a hint of annoyance from Essek. 
“You may go now.” Essek dismisses the guard who keeps waiting. 
“My apologies, Shadowhand. I was instructed to await your answers.” The guard looks to the envelopes. Essek takes his and opens it as well reading it. His expression does not change. 
‘You have been graciously invited to attend a formal dinner in your honour at the estate of Den Thelyss tonight.’
“Essek?” You give him a glance allowing him to see the invitation. Essek shows you his invitation too. His has and additional note; ‘bring your friend’. You see Essek lift his chin with a deep sigh giving the guard a bit of a glare.
“Please tell my mother-“ Seeing where this is going you cut him off.
“-that we accept her gracious invitation, isn’t that right, Essek.” You would have stepped on his foot to shut him up if he weren’t floating. Essek gives you a surprised look as the guard nods, excuses himself and hurries off. 
“Why would you…” Essek doesn’t finish the question. 
“Because even I know you simply do not refuse an invite from nobility let alone a Denmother, your mother no less.” He can’t deny. You have a point. 
So there you are, dressed in the fanciest clothes gold could buy in such a short period of time, courtesy of Jester and her impeccable taste. The fine silks in hues of purple, dark blues, black and silver made you stand out in the crowd for sure if it weren’t the design itself, like it was made for you. Many garments were tried on. None but this passed Jester’s approval. Luckily for you the outfit wasn’t so heavy or tight you couldn’t even lift your arms, or would feel like you were carrying both Fjord and Caduceus on your back. You had your full range of motion and a perfect fit. 
Essek escorted you to the estate which is every bit as grand and impressive as you expected it to be. You’re a bit on edge and nervous. It’s not every day one gets such an invitation, let alone one by the family your ‘friend’ belongs to. 
“You are calmer ahead of battle than you are attending dinner. I do not think I have ever seen you this on edge.” Essek couldn’t keep his observation to himself. It’s quite a funny one in his eyes. You’d be prepared to walk into a moorbounder nest no hesitation and no fear yet a social gathering is enough to nearly throw you off your feet and have you panic. 
“Don’t laugh! Not all of us have spent our lives making friends with the leaders of nations.” He stops, you with him and turns to you. 
“And yet I doubt that’s what unnerves you so.” He places his hands on your shoulders as you take a deep breath. 
“What if she doesn’t like me? Or if she doesn’t approve your blatant admiration of me?” You manage to lighten the mood with your last question. 
“If my mother didn’t approve of you she would never have invited both of us to dinner. As for my ‘blatant admiration of you’, as you put it, I think it is more than deserved after everything.” Essek looks around seeing no one but the guards in front of the estate and pulls you into his embrace. 
“You’ll do perfectly. My mother will love you just as much as I.” He speaks as you return the hug. Pulling apart he offers his arm and the two of you make your way through the gates. 
“You’re biased.” You whisper as the guards open the doors for the two of you.
“I am. So what?” You scoff at the wizard’s answer as you enter Essek’s childhood home. 
Worked stone, stained glass windows and geometric designs make up the majority of the structure. It’s quite beautiful and comes close to what you expect a private palace might look like. Though, you didn’t expect any less from one of the most prominent and well respected Dens in the Dynasty. Your eyes wander taking in the beautiful art work displayed within the foyer alone. You can’t begin to imagine what the rest of the building looks like. 
Walking down the stairs as the servants take your and Essek’s cloaks, is the Denmother herself in all her glory. You can see the family resemblance and are taken aback by the sheer presence the woman radiates. Sensing you panic as you resist the urge to gulp Essek pats your arm leading you forward. 
You take a deep breath. For the first time you feel like the roles are reversed, Essek being your support and saviour when you’re in need instead of the other way around. He keeps you grounded. You squeeze his arm linked through yours in a quick thank you. 
It’s no different from a battle. Except your sword has been exchanged for your wit and your words are your weapon and shield. The strategy remains. You can do this. You got this. The words echo in your head only to realise Essek whispered them. You nod. You got this. 
Essek and you meet Deirta at the bottom of the stairs. You offer a brief bow in respect, returned with a bow of the head and a smile. 
“Welcome. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. My son speaks very highly of you. I am Deirta Thelyss.” Deirta takes the lead, you and Essek following into the dining room. 
A large table enough to fit half the court alone, houses only four chairs, one at the head, two on one side and a single one at the other. The table is set for four, plates, cutlery, beautiful glasses and everything. Leaning on one of the chairs is a handsome drow, dressed appropriately for the dinner bearing the vestiges of a Taskhand, or at least so you’ve been told. This drow, while elvish age might be more difficult to pinpoint seems to be a bit younger than Essek and shares similar features. A sibling perhaps? Essek doesn’t really talk about his family much. 
Essek guides you along to the two chairs next to each other, one of which the other man is leaning on. The man raises to a more proper stature and bows to you. 
“My, my, you must be my dear brother’s heroic saviour. Taskhand Verin Thelyss. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Verin pulls out the chair next to the one he was leaning on and offers it to you. You unlink your arm from Essek’s and take a seat thanking the Taskhand. Before Verin can, Essek takes the seat next to you at the right hand of the Denmother. Verin sends him a glare but Essek looks on innocently. Sibling rivalry? You’ll never let him hear the end if this goes on.
“Don’t look so glum, Verin. It doesn’t suit you.” You raise an eyebrow at Essek’s comment as Verin takes the seat opposite of his brother and Deirta takes hers. 
“And pomposity suits you perfectly brother.” Verin raises his glass.
“Children. No bickering at my table. We have a guest.” Deirta smiles at you as servants fill your glasses and uncover the plates set out in front of you to reveal a delicious looking meal. 
“Thank you for joining us tonight. I’m grateful you were able to accept my invitation on such short notice. When my son speaks about your exploits he tends to leave out the mortal danger of it all and I have to learn from others the details of the risk you put yourself at to keep him safe. You have my eternal gratitude.” Deirta places a hand over her heart. 
“You talk about me?” You give Essek a look and can just see the tiniest of blushes creep on his face for just a second as he tries to repress it. 
“Gushes on about you really, singing your praises. ‘Such an intelligence, a fast learner, strong and clever’. It never ends.” Essek glares at Verin as you lean into the arm of your chair giving him an ‘oh really’ look waiting for him to come up with some clever comment or witty remark in return to deflect from the fact he’s not been subtile about his affections towards you around his family. 
“I only shared my conclusions based on the information and evidence provided to me first hand.” 
“I believe that’s what us common folk would call ‘an opinion’, darling.” You laugh amused by the whole situation. You earned a snort from Verin with your comment. Deirta looks between the three of you before turning her attention back to you directly.
“I heard you had gotten rather seriously injured. I hope you’ve recovered well enough?” Deirta asks. 
“I have thanks to my rather talented healer friends. Though if it were not for Essek’s quick response getting them, things may have played out very differently.” You praise the wizard next to you trying to put him a bit more at ease and give him something to return fire if he has to against his brother, letting him know you have his side still. Esseks gives you a thankful smile. 
“So you’re recovered then?” Verin’s expression turns a bit more mischievous and you can see Deirta giving him a scolding look. 
“I am according to my clerics, though I feel they held off on my release from bedrest and confinement to the house for several days. It’s good to be out and about again. I’ve missed it, even though the company has been good I definitely missed being allowed to swing a sword and throw a  proper punch.” Verin’s smile grows. 
“Since you’re good to fight again, how about you show me what you’re made off? How much of my brother’s opinions prove true?” 
“Verin.” Both Essek and Deirta warn each for different reasons.
“Oh come on, I’m merely joking. Unless you’d take me up on the offer of course.” Verin gives you an innocent look you’ve seen so many times on Essek. Plausible deniability apparently runs in the family. 
You lean your elbows on the table, clasping your hands together. Essek mutters an ‘oh no’ under his breath and takes a big gulp from his drink as you grin. 
“You want a fight? I’ll give you a fight.” You wink. 
“Verin need I remind you of your manners. We do not challenge guests to a fight over dinner.” Deirta scolds her son. 
“It’s just a bit of fun, mother.” Verin complains and where he not presenting himself as a renowned official and the person he is, it might have sounded like the plea of a child being told no. 
“I would not wish to overstep any boundaries and forgo all rules of social engagement. Nor do I wish to ruin a perfectly pleasant evening, Denmother. Perhaps another time, Verin?” You earn the Denmother’s approval as she says something to Verin in Undercommon you do not understand but by the tone of her voice alone and Verin’s response you can tell it’s probably not positive. 
Essek sighs deeply next to you pinching the bridge of his nose as Deirta and Verin continue their argument. 
“Oh for the love of… Can you two please cease this useless fight. I’d much rather see Verin being put in his place than listen to this endless argument one more second. Thank you.” The two of them slowly quiet down when Essek speaks up. Verin gets up from his chair.
“It’s settled then, we’re all in agreement.” 
“We are not all in agreement but to cease this argument, very well. You have my permission.” Deirta concedes despite all better efforts.
“If you wish to take my son up on this fight you have my permission.” 
Before you know it you’re outside in what you can assume is Den Thelyss’ private gardens. It’s simple and large enough of an open space to not break anything in the near vicinity should things get ugly. Both of you drop the heavier and unnecessary layers of your outfits. You’re pulled aside by Essek before you walk into the fighting ring. 
“Not that I do not have full confidence you’ll win, but please do not get injured or I fear I might find my next cup of tea poisoned or my books desecrated.” Essek worries taking hold of your hands giving them a brief squeeze. 
“I’ll do my best to protect your precious books and keep any attempts of poisoning at bay. Now please excuse me while I go kick your brother’s ass.” You pat his cheek as you step back and into the makeshift fighting ring. Verin offers you a sword but you don’t take it. 
“I’ve brought my own.” You summon your trusty sword and earn a nod of approval from the drow.
“Nice trick.” The moment you’re ready Verin swings at you but you’ve lived this long thanks to your reflexes and step to the side with ease. You tap the blade of your sword against his to inch it out of your way as you go for a high strike giving Verin enough time to counter block. 
This isn’t a fight to the death and you’re not deliberately trying to seriously injure your opponent so you both hold back but you do get a glimpse of the soldier within Verin and see where he gets his reputation from. It’s earned. The ‘dance’ between you and Verin continues until it gets more competitive and the both of you come to a nonverbal understanding to find out who’s going to be the clear winner here. 
Verin summons his echo letting it come at you while putting some distance between you and him to give him the advantage. You’re quick to respond with a lightning lure. A satisfying grin visible as you pull Verin back within your range. You deflect a blow from the echo while kicking Verin’s wrist preventing his sword from striking you. Bringing your own sword around you cut the echo in half, turning it to wisps of shadow. You strike back with a hit directed at Verin. He dodges and comes around with a hit you use your blade to parry. Another echo comes in play but you pay it no mind having had enough of this back and forth. You grab the blade of Verin’s sword, not nearly tight enough to pierce your skin but just enough to hold it in place, drop your own sword and reach into your component pouch. 
You speak the familiar words and release the gold dust you re-summon your sword back to your hand and point it at Verin’s chest. Verin tries to pull the sword from the air but is unable to move it. 
“Do you concede?” Verin holds up his hands in surrender but you notice a glint in his eye. He quickly moves around the other side of the sword frozen in the air kicking at your leg. You toss your sword to the side, punch once to break his defence and another directly to the chest. Verin’s breath hitches and you kick his legs from under him. He groans, the air is knocked out of him as he lands on his back. You put your foot on his chest standing over him. He grabs it purely by instinct but loosens his grip quickly. 
“Very well. I concede.” Verin speaks out of breath. You remove your foot and offer him a hand pulling him back to his feet. From the stairs you hear a slow clap. Both of you look over to see Deirta standing next to an amused Essek. 
“Impressive. My son’s words have proven true. You have my approval.” The Denmother speaks rather indifferently but offers a smile no less before retreating back inside. 
“Perhaps one day we might fight side by side. I look forward to seeing you around more often.” Verin slaps a hand on your shoulder before he wanders off to clean up. Essek joins you, the two of you left alone in the gardens outside the building. 
“What just happened?” You ask confused about how you just gained the approval and respect of Verin and Deirta Thelyss. 
“They saw exactly why you have my affection.” You bump into Essek’s shoulder in a ‘shut up’ and he offers you a genuine smile. 
“I am that great, aren’t I?” You joke as the two of you begin making your way back inside. You’re still processing unsure of how to take and handle all of this. This was unexpected to say the least.
“And I’ve told you many times. I don’t plan to stop doing so either.” You give him a little side hug as you look around the abandoned remains of dinner being cleared off the table by the servants. 
“Is this how fancy dinners always go?” 
“Certainly not. Though, I can say watching my brother be put in his place certainly has been the highlight of my day, second to you showing off.” You both laugh as you’re ready to head back leaving the Thelyss estate behind you. Perhaps it’ll become a place you’ll visit more often. Though you’ll still always prefer the towers. And feeling some bruises form already, you have some books to protect from the wrath of a doodling tiefling. 
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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago
Text
Double Heart | Chapter Nine ~ Cosima
|previous part|
Pairing: Haldir x OFC
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3476
Warnings: None
**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**
A/n Sorry this was a little late! Happy reading :)
Translations: Mae govannen = well met! // Meleth nîn = my love
Two weeks after I woke in this strange world, we reach Imladris.
When Haldir tells me that the sparkling city in the valley is our destination, I can scarcely believe him. After endless days and nights riding through open country, to finally reach civilization, even if it’s not the civilization I’m used to, is so welcome I nearly cry with relief.
Four men on horseback race up the slope of the mountains to meet us. They wear heavy armor—more than what Haldir and the others wear—and carry tall spears. Their leader, fierce though he seems, takes my breath away. Even from here, I can see his face because it reflects an ethereal glow. His hair, which has to be spun gold, flows long down the back of his horse and glints in the sun. Whoever he is, he is no mere man.
“Elrond’s patrols,” I question, remembering someone mentioning them earlier.
“Yes,” Haldir responds, and I can hear a grin in his voice. “We have reached their outer borders. Congratulations, Cosima.” He twists to offer me a proud smile. “You have completed your first journey.”
I swallow, unable to keep myself from smiling back. Haldir can be so stoic at times that praise from him is completely unexpected. Warmth spreads through my chest.
The riders come to a halt in front of us and the one I assume to be their leader dismounts, striding confidently in our direction. Haldir slides off Faervel, approaching in a similar fashion. I take the horse’s reins in my hands, stroking his back affectionately. The horses’ height doesn’t bother me anymore and I’ve become much more confident in riding them in the past two weeks.
“Mae govannen, Haldir o Lórien!”
“Glorfindel.” Haldir clasps the man’s elbow jubilantly. They converse in that language I haven’t heard since I arrived — the others have been speaking solely in English for my and Alex’s benefit — and it’s jarring to hear the unfamiliar sounds. It serves as a reminder that, though I have allowed myself to become comfortable here, too comfortable, maybe, this is not my world. This is somewhere different.
Haldir turns over his shoulder and extends a hand in my direction. I catch my name and Alexander’s among the strange syllables and offer the man—Glorfindel, Haldir called him—a smile in greeting. He approaches, stunning golden hair shining in the light of the sunset, and bows elegantly. A laugh bubbles from my throat—startled by the action. Vaguely, I remember Rumil bowing to me when we first met. Whereas his motivation had been to make a joke, Glorfindel seems totally genuine, the gesture one of respect and welcome. He performs the same movement for Alex.
“Welcome, lost humans and my elven friends. Come, I shall keep you waiting no longer. Elrond is eager to see you and I am sure you are equally ready for proper food and a full night’s rest.” With that, he strides back to his horse and mounts.
I scoot higher on Faervel’s back to give Haldir room and hand him the reins. The horses must sense how close we are to extended rest, because they race faster than they did the entire journey. Despite my new skill, I have to grip Haldir extra tight to make up for the frantic pace and only being able to use one arm. Though the mountain slope is steep and the city surely has to be miles away, we arrive in less than an hour.
Streams of blue and white cascade above us, falling every way I turn and crashing down below. The air smells impossibly sweet and fresh — perhaps due to the flowers that bloom all around. The rays from the sinking sun, brilliant orange and gold, mingle with the water in the falls and, just as Haldir promised, send gently curving rainbows over our path. I let out a breath, completely stunned.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Haldir’s voice holds a reverence I’ve never heard before, but it is aptly placed. I could not fathom regarding this city with anything less than the utmost respect and admiration.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. Even in my homeworld, I—” I blink, unable to comprehend the etherial nature of my surroundings. “I would have remembered it. This…”
“I know.” Theres a soft, almost vulnerable quality to his voice that caresses the phrase. I can imagine his eyes are alight like mine, taking in the splendor of the city even though he’s seen it many times before. I’d wager this is a sight one never gets used to.
Glorfindel pulls his horse to a stop before an arching, narrow bridge.
Oh no.
I suck in a sharp breath, gripping onto Haldir with both my injured and uninjured arm. My wound stings, but it is preferable to suffer this momentary pain than to loosen my grip and go plummeting off the edge.
Haldir chuckles, the vibrations rumbling deep in his chest. “The bridge is only the beginning. Look ahead—part of the main city is suspended on pillars.”
My stomach churns and I feel my heart race. By the way my arms constrict around him, Haldir seems to figure out that he has not employed the wisest strategy. His voice softens and he squeezes my hand like he did earlier, after the attack. “Faervel knows the way. Neither he nor I will let you fall.”
I take a deep breath. It’s either the bridge and the safety of Imladris or the orc-infested mountains. And, I suppose, Haldir has gotten us this far. Minor injuries aside, we survived a heavily out-numbered attack relatively unscathed. I trusted him then and I can trust him now. “Fine.”
He chuckles again but makes a big show of lining Faervel up with what will be the middle of the bridge. I resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs — armor covers them anyway. It would hurt me more than it would him.  
Glorfindel calls out in that language again, then directs his horse onto the bridge. The three other mounted guards follow. Then, so gently I barely register the change, Faervel steps from the lush grass to the stone of the bridge. Water roars and tosses below us, drowning out any words the others might say. And drowning you if Faervel doesn’t keep straight. That is, if the impact doesn’t kill you first. I fight the urge to whimper and keep my eyes locked straight ahead. Almost to the end.
The bridge is mercifully short and soon we are on much surer foundations, having crossed into the city. While the water still cascades around us, its noise has subsided, almost like it’s been muted. In its place, soft, lyrical music fills the air. Harps. Once we are far from the bridge, I look around. The buildings are made of stone yet seem a natural part of the valley. Chains of flowers spill from every archway, peek between small cracks in the stone, weave into the intricate designs in the masonry. Trees, the same ones that welcomed us at the border, make a home in the city, growing where they wish — even if that means rising alongside a fabricated pillar.
Haldir speaks softly, hesitantly, almost like he doesn’t want to interrupt my exploration of the city. “Is it worth the bridge?”
I realize we’ve come to a stop in front of a large dais backed by a constant stream of blue and frothy white. It’s like we’re in the waterfall. “Definitely,” I exhale. Though, I have no desire to cross that bridge again any time soon.
A tall man steps onto the dais. His face is kind and, though the edges of his mouth and forehead are lined with creases, he could be any age. He seems altogether outside of time. His eyes hold wisdom, more than I could ever hope to collect, and I know this must be the Elrond my friends talked about. He could be no other.
He spreads his hands and smiles warmly. “Welcome. Our friends from Lothlórien and the humans who accompany them, welcome to Imladris. We have dinner prepared for you. Leave your horses with the guards — they will be well cared for.”
I believe him. He could probably tell me the sky is green or Faervel is a mouse and I wouldn’t question it.
And if he told you that you’re in a different world?
I gulp and push the weighted thought away.
Haldir swings his left leg to meet his right and slides off Faervel’s back. As always, he keeps a gentle hold on me until my feet are securely on the ground, then clasps his hands behind his back in his most favored stance.
I peek behind me to locate Alexander. He shifts from foot to foot and darts his eyes suspiciously around the room. With his short hair, lanky stature, and clear discomfort, he looks so out of place here. With a start, I realize that I must, too. Though the physical differences are certainly apparent, there’s just something about these men…an otherworldliness I had somehow gotten used to during our journey. But here, in this unreal city surrounded by others who are so clearly not men…For the first time, I truly, honestly consider that they might not be human.
Rumil appears on my right side, practically beaming with excitement. “What do you think?”
I exhale on shaky breath, my recent realization having left me feeling a little lightheaded. “I think it’s a lot to take in. It’s gorgeous, though.”
At my left, Haldir eyes me curiously. He heard my reaction upon reaching Imladris and is probably wondering why I’m downplaying it to Rumil. Truth be told, I just don’t have the energy to take much more this evening. A good meal and sleep will hopefully help.
“Orophin!”
I tilt my head around Rumil to find the source of the delighted shriek and find myself staring at the most enchanting woman I’ve ever seen.
Her hair, coiled and dark, tumbles down her back in tight curls, brushing the back of her legs. Her espresso skin shines in the nearly-faded light, almost as if it has a luminescence of its own — perhaps a result of the joy that radiates from her. She wears a long, ruby-colored gown that sweeps gently over the stairs as she practically throws herself down them, sprinting in our direction.
“Meleth nîn!” Orophin calls back to her, breaking from our informal line and rushing to whom I assume to be his fiancée.
Indulgent chuckles run through our group as the two collide, gripping each other in a fierce hug. They pull back almost immediately, pressing their foreheads together and just staring into each other’s eyes. The action seems much more intimate than if they had fallen to the floor in a passionate embrace, and I avert my eyes, feeling the need to give them privacy.
“Come on,” Haldir whispers, ghosting his fingers over my elbow. “They will join us later.”
Elrond leads us through open-air hallways. Every way we turn seems to offer a view of the waterfalls and brings with it a light, fresh scent. He takes us right, bringing us through one final archway and into what looks to be a dining room. In the center is a long rectangular table surrounded by ten matching chairs. The table is already stacked with food — breads, salads, fruits, and various kinds of meat that smell absolutely mouthwatering.
Elrond smiles invitingly, entering the room and stopping behind the chair at one of the table’s heads. “I expected you would be weary this evening and would wish to dine in private. Please, sit and help yourselves.”
I follow Rumil and Haldir, hoping I’m not violating any social rules I am unaware of by choosing a random seat in the middle. Before I can pull the chair back, Haldir steps in to complete the task, gesturing for me to take a seat. I have to hold back my amusement at the antiquated gesture — perhaps it’s a custom here. He does seem more formal than Alex and I are.
Haldir and Rumil take the chairs on either side of me and, before long, Alex appears at my opposite. I smile at him. Given our recent arguments and the fact that I don’t really know if we’re friends in this life, I’m not quite sure where we stand. But he returns the gesture which allows me to breathe a sigh of relief. He’s familiar, at least. Baranor sits between Alex and Elrond and immediately the two healers engage in deep discussion.
I distract myself with the food and soon have more piled on my plate than I could possibly hope to eat, but I can certainly try. Before long, Orophin and the woman from earlier join us and are welcomed jovially.
Orophin beams, gesturing to the woman at his side. “Lavandil, these are the humans I was telling you about. Cosima and Alexander, this is my betrothed, Lavandil.”
Lavandil sets her excited gaze on both myself and Alex. “Hello, it’s so nice to meet you. Welcome to Imladris! We are pleased to have you here.” Her voice is warm, welcoming, and I find it impossible not to smile along with her, distressed though I am at Orophin’s clear distinction of me as ‘human’.
Orophin pulls out a chair for Lavandil and sits between her and Alex, who looks ridiculously uncomfortable in the presence of so many of these…humans. Though, I must admit, my resolve to call them that is steadily weakening.
Minutes later, Glorfindel enters the room accompanied by a demure man called Lindir. Haldir and Glorfindel fall into a spirited debate about patrol strategies and border security. Rumil piles something on my plate that he claims I have to try. He’s not wrong — it’s really good!
“So, Cosima, Alexander.” Lavandil props her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her hand, looking at us with interest. “Orophin says they happened upon you both near the river and that you haven’t any memories?”
All eyes converge on me and Alex. I don’t trust him to be polite, so I hurry to answer her question.
“Yes. We remember each other and tiny snippets of our home, but besides that, nothing.”
“How strange,” she muses, looking fascinated. “That must have been so shocking. How are you adjusting?”
I exhale slowly, playing for time. How am I adjusting? The weight of everyone’s eyes feels almost crushing. “It’s definitely a lot to get used to,” I say diplomatically. “But we’re really lucky to have run into good people who were willing to help.”
Despite his feelings towards our companions, Alex wisely remains silent. It would do us no good to offend our hosts.
Lavandil giggles, the sound bright and cheerful. “I’m glad they were helpful and not rude. I know Haldir has a tendency to interrogate first and help later. He’s slow to trust.” She shoots Haldir a teasing grin, to which he merely rolls his eyes, but his cheek twitches like he’s fighting a smile.
I try to suppress a grin. “Well, he wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy, but he calmed down quickly enough.” I purse my lips, contemplating. “But now that I think about it, no one really left me unattended or gave me a weapon even though the trip was dangerous. Hold on, do any of you actually trust me?” I lean back in my chair and cross my arms, though I raise an eyebrow at Haldir to let him know I’m only kidding.
He shakes his head, huffing in mock exasperation. “We trust you now but at the start, how was I to know you weren’t some sort of spy?”
“A spy!” I huff. “I’m hurt. But moving on. Later, once you decided I was not a spy, how come no one gave me a knife or anything?”
Rumil chortles. “Have you seen the lines of your mending? You’re more likely to impale yourself than an enemy.”
I grumble indignantly. He’s right, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell him so.
Haldir quirks an eyebrow. “Would you like to learn? I can teach you.”
I think on this. Hmmm…do I need to learn how to use a weapon? Probably. But do I want to? Surprisingly, I find that the answer is yes. This world is obviously dangerous—I got a very real reminder of that just a few days ago—and I want to be capable in it. Haldir or the others might not always be there to defend me—I should learn how to protect myself.
“Yeah, I would. Thank you!”
Haldir nods, the edges of his mouth pulling into an expression of grim determination. I quickly discover why.
He’s psyching himself up, I realize with a quiet laugh.
He inclines his head towards Alex. “And you, Alexander? I can teach you as well.” By the gravity in his tone, it is clear Haldir’s offer is real, but begrudging.
Alex takes a bite of fruit. “No thank you.”
That’s to be expected. Though Haldir was angry earlier and probably overreacted, he did make a good point when he said that Alex has yet to make an effort to adjust to life here. He’s stayed on the edge of things since the moment we encountered him, always keeping one foot out the door.
A voice warns me that, rather than criticizing Alex, I should have been doing the same.
Elrond motions for an attendant to refill my glass of water. “Baranor says you were attacked in the mountains? That must have been very frightening.”
Flashes of grotesque beasts and shining swords enters my mind and I shrink away from the images. I know we’re safe inside these halls but the fear is still there, lurking at the edges of my thoughts.
Haldir cuts in and I realize I have been silent for longer than is polite. “We were attacked, yes, by about eighteen orcs, wouldn’t you say?”
Rumil and Orophin both nod — I didn’t even know they had a count. I had been focused trying to dodge the blades and arrows. To me, it seemed there was an endless stream of the monsters. Haldir continues. “We killed them all and had no trouble for the rest of our journey. It does make me wander though,” his eyes dart to mine and then quickly away. “Such a large party so close to your borders? Is that common these days?”
“Yes.” Elrond nods gravely. “We have seen an increase in scouting parties and attacks. Just last month, a fully armed company of forty attempted to breach one of our southeastern border stations.”
“No,” Orophin breathes, gripping Lavandil’s hand tightly, a stricken look of horror stretching his face.
She brushes his concerns aside. “Oh, I’m fine. I was up north visiting my mother at the time. I didn’t even know the attack had occurred until I returned home.”
Orophin’s reaction worries me. I lay my fork on my plate, appetite fading as fear gnaws at the edges of my gut. “That’s unusual?”
Haldir shakes his head. “It is not unusual to encounter orcs at the borders, but an armed, prepared, planned attack of such a large number is…telling.” He avoids my gaze.
My body runs cold. “Telling of what?”
“Sauron,” Elrond says simply.
“That name means nothing to them,” Orophin reminds him, still looking at his love. He holds so much concern in his eyes—and a measure of fear—and I wonder just how big of a threat this is. Is Lavandil in danger? Is Elrond? Are we?
Elrond elaborates. “Sauron is a being of great power and even greater evil. He was defeated once before, but whispers of his presence have been heard throughout the realm. I believe he is growing in power again, gathering his armies. He is preparing.”
I drop my hands into my lap, gripping the edges of the chair in an attempt to find an anchor. Across from me, Alex has gone pale.
I don’t have to ask what this being is preparing for. It’s obvious. He’s preparing for war.
If the orcs weren’t bad enough, now we’ve got an evil power looming over us all? I wonder…is my homeworld safer than this?
Glorfindel raises his glass of deep red wine. He holds a steely, almost feral glare in his golden eyes and, suddenly, I am very, very afraid of him. “As quickly as he rises, so shall he fall.”
All aside from Alex and me raise their goblets, a forceful, “hear, hear” resounding through the room of stone. My eyes meet Alex’s. He raises an eyebrow as if to say, what do you want to do?
And I know my answer.
I want to go home.
A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day! Let me know if you would like a tag :)
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Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff
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captain-tch · 4 years ago
Text
Goodbye Humanity
You have blood on your hands trying to save Eren and Historia.
Slight season 3 spoilers
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The blades were stained red. It had long since crusted, flakes falling from the weapon and gathering in a pile on the floor.
A reminder of the person you killed.
You stared at the flakes, your hands knotting and unknotting together. Deep breathing had become your sanctuary.
One breath in.
Murderer.
One breath out.
Killer.
You squeezed your eyes closed, hoping it would block out the noise. All it did was amplify it. The voice in your head screamed at you, reminding you of the monster you had become.
You joined the Scouts to protect life, slay titans and re-capture what humanity had lost. Now you were the one slashing at the necks of people. What was terrifying was how easily your blades slid over skin. How easily it ended life. And how little it meant at the time.
You hadn't cared about the blood soaking your hands, or the bodies dropping in your wake. You only cared about saving Eren and Historia. But it didn't matter in the end, because it was all for nothing. All those lives lost, for nothing.
You tried to tell yourself that it was either you or them. That you had every right to play god and execute without a second thought for your own selfish intent. All the while a little voice piped up in the back of your head, singing sweet nothings of death and destruction.
The guilt laid over you like a heavy blanket. It sat on your chest, stealing your breath from you the very same way you stole it from someone else.
You wondered who it was you killed. Did they have a family, or were they alone in the world? Did they have someone who would mourn their loss, and carry the memory on? You thought about dreams and wonders, one your victim would never achieve because of one swift movement of your blade. Did they voluntarily join Kenny's crew, or were they forced in some way?
The answers didn't matter. They were dead.
A strangled noise escaped your throat. You clasped a hand over your mouth, another sound creeping its way up. Water soaked your cheeks. It was like someone had turned a tap on and suddenly tears were streaming down your cheeks, a single thought echoing in your mind.
Does any of it really matter?
The moment you waved goodbye to your humanity and claimed a life, everything had faded. You were numb. You felt like nothing could hurt you now - you'd hurt yourself in the worst possible way.
Another cry ripped out. You couldn't silence it in time. To your own ears, it sounded like a wounded animal.
Suddenly you felt the walls closing in. Instinctively you clutched at yourself, scratching to escape. You needed to get outside. You needed to breathe fresh air, feel the wind on your face, feel free.
Jumping to your feet, you rushed to the window, clambering on the ledge and pulling yourself up. Your muscles screamed as your body fell onto the roof, your breath leaving you in gasps. Instantly the air bit at your skin.
"Y/N?" A familiar voice questioned, disrupting the quiet.
Your head snapped in the direction of the voice. Catching sight of the dark hair and steely eyes, you stiffened. It was Levi.
You two weren't the closest. In fact, you barely spoke to man besides to address him for military matters. You believed him to be too harsh, too cold. Naturally you assumed that's what years of being in the Scouts had turned him into. But seeing him cut into people like they were titans... Something led you to think that it went beyond that.
"What are you doing here?" You expected him to snap at you; he looked genuinely shocked, the widening of his eyes the only sign.
You scoffed, pulling yourself more comfortable onto the roof. You tried to ignore the discomfort of the cobbles on your body. "Could ask you the same thing."
Levi grunted, his attention turning away from you. You were almost relieved - this was the first conversation you had had with him outside of battle strategy and orders. You imagined he felt as awkward as you.
For a moment, you contemplated retreating back to your room and dealing with your grief in private. But the thought made your skin crawl. Your lungs were breathing in the fresh air gratefully and the sight of the horizon was easing your mind.
At least there was something beautiful in this world.
"Can't sleep?" Levi's question surprised you. You never took him as someone who would strike up a conversation willingly. Especially with you.
You shrugged, waving the question off. "No different than usual."
He grunted again, raking a hand through his hair. He looked at the horizon, eyes upturned to the moon shining brightly in the sky. His pale skin was illuminated in the moonlight, a gasp catching in your throat. You forgot about the blood staining your hands, captivated by his ethereal beauty. You always recognised he was handsome - you had to be blind to not see it - but in this light he looked like a god.
"You're staring."
His voice broke you out of your thoughts. With a light blush dusting your cheeks, you ducked your head. You mumbled an apology.
Gazing down at your hands, you picked at the red flakes crusted in your nail beds. You paid no mind to tearing the skin apart. Everything came crashing back in a wave, your schoolgirl feelings an embarrassment. How dare you think of beauty when you took away someone's right to live?
"About today..." Levi started, stopping halfway. You looked up from your hands, seeing him clench his hands into fists. "That wasn't easy. Is never easy."
You didn't need him to clarify. You were well aware of what he was talking about. The guilt draping your body started to choke you. Swallowing thickly, you just nodded.
"You will need to do it again." You froze. "You'll be faced with the choice to kill or die. That's your choice to make."
"Who says I'm fit to make that choice?"
"You have to trust yourself to make that call." He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, noting how your nail beds were picked raw and dried and flesh blood mingled together. "You shouldn't beat yourself up for living."
You laughed bitterly. "Why do you even care?"
You swore you saw a flash of hurt cross his features. Blinking, the expression faded, hardening into the cool statue you had grown to trust blindly.
"I need you focused. Don't want a brat like you getting us all killed."
"I'll try not to."
"Try harder."
You laughed, shaking your head. You didn't respond, looking back at the view in front of you. It was all breath taking, the moonlight casting a gentle glow on the nature surrounding you.
It was odd; the more beats of silence that passed between you, the more guilt you felt. Except this time it wasn't about the murder, but about what you said to Levi. You had no right to know what he cared about, and no need to make him out to be emotionless. He had lost so much more, so many more people, than you could comprehend. He had a unique way of expressing his concern. Maybe trying to keep you focused was his way of showing he cared.
"Hey, Levi?" His attention darted to you, his brow quirking upwards. "Thank you."
His lips slightly curled at the edges.
A yawn rippled through your body, an exhaustion overwhelming you. Clambering to your feet you made your way to the edge of the roof, dangling your feet off it. Turning your head to speak to Levi, you found his attention already on you.
"Make sure you get some sleep tonight. Don't want you unfocused and getting us all killed."
Levi smirked.
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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago
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hey! so idk if you write platonic relationships but if you do, could you write something about whirl asking someone to be his amica endura? i just. i need more whirl love in my life and GODDAMN i love the way you write him sm gshdjf,,, thank you!! <33
I miiiiggghhht have gone a little overboard on this one and made it more of a short story than an answer... But I hope you like it! Thank you so much for the compliment, I do try my best to write Whirley well!
Whirl doesn't like to let fear boss him around. Ordinarily that's easy enough to accomplish, he's a big bot and threatening his life is a great way to end yours, and any threat he can't kill (for moral or legal reasons) can usually be ignored out of existence. As a result he's had very little to be afraid of these past few millennia, and he's even perfected his reflexes to the point he can quickly judge what reaction is warranted whenever that creeping feeling returns, meaning it never lasts more than a few minutes tops. It's a solid strategy, and the proof is that he's outlived everyone who's ever doubted it. Most of them, anyway. He's been getting sloppy since this whole quest thing.
Or more specifically, since he met you on this quest thing. The quest thing that's becoming less about the quest and more about the real treasure you've all gained along the way, which for once isn't the (many) guns he's found or the (countless) bad guy corpses he's left in the rearview mirrors.
Nope. It's you. The squishiest little air breather his optic has ever beheld, and darn the saps on this crew for rubbing off on him, because he wants to go out of his way to let you know that. Their silly insistence on honesty has made him feel like you need to know what you mean to him, and isn't that just ridiculous?
But if it's so ridiculous why was he scared? Because you could say no, damn it! You'd be silly not to! It was one thing for you to hang out with the ship's resident screw up and part time nutjob, maybe even have a drink with him, and sure you'd actually called him your friend and the two of you had looked death in the eye to insult its cataracts on more than one occasion together... But to officially declare to the crew and the universe you were Amica Endura and that you actually liked him?
You'd be mortified he even thought it was okay to ask, obviously. Then you'd wisely cut all ties and pretend you didn't know him, and he'd be left with... well, not nothing, but not much above nothing either. Worse actually now that he considered it, he'd probably be left with pain. The kind of pain you only got when you lost something, a particular experience he'd spent a very long time trying to ensure he'd never have to endure again, and he'd been doing pretty well until you showed up. But he wasn't mad at you, he was mad at himself, both for having the audacity to grow feelings and then getting soft enough to actually acknowledge them like a sap.
But facing fear was far better than the alternative. If he kept on pretending you were just another chum, that you didn't deserve the title of Amica for what you meant to him, then he'd have guilt. More guilt, to be specific, and he was already fully stocked on that. So... fear it was then. Fear and the inevitable pain that would follow when you did the only sane thing you could.
But hey, what was another mistake in the pile, right?
You'd been in your room by yourself, just relaxing an perusing the wonders of interstellar Wi-Fi, when he'd decided there literally couldn't be a better time. Some bots insisted that a proper ceremony required witnesses, but those bots couldn't judge him if there were no witnesses, now could they? Checkmate, seeing as how the two of you would definitely never speak to each other again after this... His claws had knocked on the door with as little force as he could muster, some part of him hoping you wouldn't hear and he'd have a reason to retreat, but as usual he also had to open his mouth and ruin that plan.
"Hey, Y/N, you uh... you alive in there?"
Approximating a facepalm as best he could without either half of the required components, his spark dropped when you replied with a good natured laugh, probably thinking he was just being his usual self and not making much sense. Which was true, just not in the usual way...
You'd happily opened the door with a command on your data pad, inviting him to come in and relax because you weren't up to anything anyway. Claws clacking together nervously, he'd entered with an unconvincing veneer of calm, far too worried to really pretend otherwise. Long legs carry him with slow steps, and he can't help but survey your room; he's certain this is the last time he'll ever see it. Your tiny belongings looking so ridiculously small in the Cybertronian sized living space, the ladders that have been welded to everything, gosh, is it foggy in here or is that just some emotional turmoil in his optic?
"Whirl? Are you okay?"
Of course not, but thanks for asking is what he wants to say, but a more accurate reply would involve him mentioning how things were actually really okay for a while... Until he'd started messing it all up, a process he'd be finishing up now so you could both move on with your lives.
"Oh... that's a matter of debate." He finally brings himself to say, claws firmly pinched to prevent him from any further tapping. You look more concerned than baffled, which is nice. Somehow you'd always managed to look past what he said to understand what he means. That's something he'll miss, once he finally manages to get this over with. Of course his voicebox is pitching a fit and refusing to cooperate, but it's going to be a simple series of steps once he gets it going. He'll ask you to be Amica, you'll refuse, and then he leaves. It's such a simple plan that even he can't find something to blow up in the process. Not for lack of trying, mind you...
"Is there something you need? You've been a little off lately." You said, putting aside your data pad to move to the edge of the berth. It hadn't escaped your notice that the usually loud mech had been growing quiet around you as of late, his one optic looking almost forlornly in your direction when he thought you were focused elsewhere, and so you sat and let your legs dangle off the berth to let him know you were listening. His antenna twitched backwards like a startled ear on a mammal.
"Me? Well, I'd be inclined to say..." Some half attempt at a joke died before it even could be set up, and he quickly decided the stalling had gone on long enough. If he had to endure one more second of gnawing apprehension he was going to have to destroy something exceptionally expensive to shake off the nerves, and he had just gotten his room the way he liked it. Better to go down with some dignity if he could. "You're spot on, actually. I've been off because I've got something I've gotta get off my chassis, but it's not gonna be fun for either of us. Still needs to be done though, ain't that a shame?"
Any other person on the ship would have been terrified if he'd said that to them. They'd have expected some kind of terrible bodily injury, no doubt, but you knew him better than that. You knew that if he wanted to hurt anyone it would happen as soon as he entered a room, and with something way more intimidating to kick off the fun. Instead your expression was just thoughtful, concerned, and only a little confused. "I... if it upsets you then yeah, but why do you have to do it?"
"Do you know what an Amica is?" He blurted out, the words almost hurting as they came into being. It felt like he had just struck another match, surrounded himself with fuel, and this time there'd be no interruptions.
"Amica?"
"There an echo in here?" He said dryly, unable to help jumping on the chance for an old classic. Apologetically lowering his optics, he released a quick bit of air from his vents in imitation of a cough. "Yeah, that, know what it is?"
"Sure, it's like... best friends, only way deeper, bound for life." You said, recalling it amongst the many Cybertronian terms you'd been learning these past few months. It had obviously had cultural implications and connections you just didn't have the experience to understand, but the importance of the practice had been abundantly clear from the moment you first heard of it. Chief among the things you'd been able to determine was that it carried no less weight than being a Conjunx, it was just a different kind of love.
He clicked his claws together in an imitation of an affirming snap. "That's the one. It's tough to explain to aliens, but that's the basic rundown, and there's a whole ceremony to it and everything. Did you know that?" He appreciated that you only shook your head and looked back to him for an explanation, it made it quite clear you were intent on listening as much as possible. "A bot has to ask the one who's less likely to ask, and they get to say yes or no during the ceremony. I'd imagine by now you've figured out I came here to ask you to be my Amica, start the ceremony and everything, only thing stopping me is I... just don't want to."
It was the first time he'd surprised you in a long time. There had been... well, you'd been fairly certain he was leading up to something else there, and had just been nervous. You had to repeat back what he'd said in a question for clarification. "You don't want to ask me?"
"What? No! Don't put words in the mouth I don't have!" He replied vigorously, taking a step closer to your berth and throwing up his arms in total consternation. Upon seeing your comforting near smile of reasurance, he drops his claws and holds them near his face, a gesture he typically only performs when anxious. Thoughts are beginning to run wild in his head, so he knows he'll have to wrap this up before they sidetrack him, or he'll never get it done. Bless your little fleshy fuel pump for wanting to comfort him, but there just isn't time for that. "What I'm trying to get across here, or say or whatever, is that I want to but I shouldn't..."
"Ah... why shouldn't you? Does me being a human make it... illegal?" You ask, finally getting an inkling as to what's going on. As usual, his burying of the lede means you're far less shocked than you should be now that he's actually getting to the point, but you want to use that to stay calm. Whirl has been a dear friend to you, as protective as could be from the moment he decided he liked you. The least you can do is be what he needs by letting him talk things out in a way that works for him, even if it feels so much easier to cut to the chase; you'd love to be his Amica no matter the hurdles.
"You and I both know that would only make it better. Illegal friendship? Sounds more like an endorsement than a deterrent to me." It's hard for him not to laugh at the very idea. If this was actually against some law? Oh, how very different things would be... Somehow he'd feel okay then, perhaps because this would just be another of his crazy ideas, and not something sentimental and completely irreconcilable with who he was. Previously upright antenna drooped low at the disappointment. "But... no, no such luck. It's not illegal for me to ask you, just stupid, because you're going to say no."
Suddenly so many things made sense, but in the shock of sadness that followed you couldn't help but speak, your own disappointment showing through. "I am?"
"Well of course you are! That little pink glob between your ears is smart enough to know better! If you were most saps, sure, you'd probably say yes because oooh friendship, but the fact that you're sensible enough to say no is exactly why I want to ask!" He replied, sounding emphatic instead of angry. Despite being a master at appearing mad for the sake of self defense, he can't bring himself to appear anything but... sad. Every part of him is wilting from the sadness that's clocking in early. Because you have to say no, that's just how this works, and his resignation to that fact is clear no matter how badly he wishes it wasn't true. "Believe me, I know what smart looks like. I know what sensible looks like. Most people have a terrible deficit of the two, but not... not you. That's what makes you worth asking, and also worth saying no. Weird, huh?"
Your heart is breaking, somewhat for you, but mostly for him. Did he really think he was unworthy of friendship? Of any kind of love? Clearly you were his best friend, but in the fog of self loathing clouding his vision, he's convinced himself that it has to end now that he truly feels he isn't alone. "Whirl..."
Venting in sharply, like a human sucking in a breath to hold off tears, he perks up and gestures a claw back over his shoulder. "Look, I'm just going to save us both some drama and skip to the part where you kick me out. Since I'm nice, I'll even pretend you're big enough to actually do it. I'll throw myself into the hallway and everything, really seal-"
"Whirl." You say softly, knowing that yelling won't help but desperate to keep him from leaving. It works, but he pretends to be interested in the floor, crouching like he's preemptively flinching away from a hit. It's not the first time you've seen him do this. Coming to understand the big bot had been more natural for you than most, but had still taken effort, and in all the trial and error you'd learned he just needed things phrased a little differently. Thus, you decided to give what you'd learned a final trial.
"Can I at least... actually get a chance to say no?"
It was just indirect enough to immediately catch his attention, but his wounded look remained unchanged, like he didn't dare hope.
"Any particular reason why?" He asked, tilting his helm as if you've piqued his interest with a daring and devilish scheme. There's a lot going on behind his optic, but you're unflinching as he levies it back on you, smiling to emphasize you have nothing to hide.
"It's... well, it's not really fair for you to decide something for me, is it? Even if you know what the answer will be, shouldn't I get the chance to make that choice myself in the moment?"
He clacks his claws together to imitate snapping fingers. "Damn it all, you're a clever little fleshy, I'll give you that. Appealing to my peerless sense of justice for self determination to get your way." The mask of neutrality is razor thin, and beneath it he's anything but calm. None of this is going the way he planned. Far from casting him out, you're encouraging him to go through with this, but why? You can't actually plan to say yes, so why all this fuss? It's not in you to set him up, but he can't bring himself to hope he has a chance at the impossible... So he just plays along like it's all a game, albeit a very sad one, and one he intends to play carelessly. "If you... I'll give you the way to say no and the way to say yes, okay? That way you'll... really mean it when you say no."
"I promise I'll mean it." You say, wishing so badly he'd believe you wanted his friendship. It'd be so much easier than coordinating with him to give you a chance to accept his Amica proposal. Yet you know his manner of processing can't be argued with, so instead you just keep going, praying he'll let you have a chance to show how much you care. "But I need to know how it all works."
"Well, I'll say some fancy words, show my spark, all that mushy stuff most folks love." He waves his claws about, as if to brush away the silliness of the ceremony right there. The idea of baring a spark surprises you, but you keep quiet, focused only on getting through to the part he's convinced himself won't happen. Even as he continues his pessimistic prediction is obvious in his tone. "Then, when I've said my piece and pause, you just say "I refuse" and it's all over, we don't have to talk again, I'll leave and..."
If you were close enough you'd have laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but thankfully your silent look of encouragement does the job, and he overlaps his wrists whilst looking away.
"But if you were going to say yes, hypothetically, then after my pause you just go quiet and... put your little digits on mine... Then repeat after me when I say "today, tomorrow and always" to wrap it up. But since that isn't happening, let's just get this over with, eh?"
It's the flattest one of his jokes has ever fallen. For all his skill keeping his feelings reigned in, even he can't prevent a little bit of intimidation slipping through. It's impossible not to be afraid, because he wants so badly to hope, but he knows what happens when he does... Still, he wants to at least get it over with, and he gathers himself just as you give your final encouragement with a smile.
"Lets."
Clearing his vents, it occurs to him that he's never been more self conscious than he is right now, which is an unfortunate feeling to prelude him baring his spark.
The soft glow fills the room as he shifts back his chest plating, revealing the orb of his "soul" as you'd once called it, and he internally admits that your quiet expression of awe gives him the boost he needs to start. "I bid you stand in the glow of my spark... so um, that you may feel the heat of my words and k-know them to be true."
It's arguably one of the only times he's ever stuttered, and while you don't react, he's never felt more foolish. Was it not enough for him to make a spectacle out of himself just by doing this? Did he really have to butcher the whole process too? Feeling dizzy, he forces his voicebox to try and start making words again. He's painfully aware of how ridiculous he looks; one eyed, mangled screw up trying to be sentimental... But darn it all, he made a commitment. Putting his claws beside his spark, he kept going into what he knew would be a bitter end.
"I invite you to receive my light and in doing so become my Amica Endura—from now until forever."
He doesn't realize he's at the end until he runs out of words. The fear and helplessness that follow are akin to the level he'd experience falling off a cliff with no flight to save him, and for an eternity he's left floundering in anticipation of the impact. This is supposed to be it, the moment you turn him away and rightfully go forward in life, better off for having left him. But you're quiet. Your words of dismissal aren't forthcoming, and your soft and somewhat sad little smile doesn't indicate that he should expect them. But why not?! Why won't you say them?! What could you possibly hope to gain by accepting?
You hardly dare to breathe as you wait for him to begin the next phase. The glow of his spark illuminates everything, allowing you to see the fear in every inch of his being, particularly his lone expressive optic. He doesn't want to believe you're saying yes, as much as he treasures you, he just can't believe you'd ever feel the same about him. But you do, and you try to communicate that with every fiber of your being. You want to be friends with him through anything that may come, and you pray that he can see the depth of your conviction in your eyes.
Something like a hiccup shakes his shoulders. You haven't refused him. It's been almost a minute, the light of his spark fluttering as the sheer power of his emotions coursed through it, namely his disbelief that any of this could be real. Something like relief but a million times stronger makes his vents hitch. He's still processing the turn of events when he remembers he has more to say.
"Ah... Y/N... for you... um... for your acceptance..." He croaks, trying to keep an accursed tear from leaving his optic by briefly tilting back his helm. You're similiarly affected, but you let yourself sniffle and shed a few tears as he approaches with his claws out to you. They're big enough that even a semblance of holding hands isn't really possible, but you grab the tip of each and squeeze regardless, knowing the sentiment is still quite clear. You're his friend, and you always will be, through thick and thin. Now he's finally starting to see that too.
He doesn't fully have a grasp on the fact that this is real, but he doesn't care about that as much as he should. You were his Amica Endura, his dearest friend, and you somehow liked him enough that all the baggage was worth it. With one of your tiny hands on each of his clawtips, he finished the ceremony. Each word felt light as a feather when he spoke it. "As you are to me, may I be to you—today, tomorrow, and always."
"Today, tomorrow, and always." You echo, meaning it with everything you are. There's no grand finale, but the emotion in his optic and quivering antenna is more impressive than any supernova. He doesn't seem to want to pull his claws away as he shifts his chest plating back into position, and you're happy to oblige, keeping a solid hold on his claws as if your tiny body is his lifeline.
"You didn't say no." He says as the glow of his spark disappears. It's a tone for a statement but he obviously wants it to be a question, and he only keeps it from being one because he's still too overwhelmed to ask that many yet.
You can't help but sniffle as you try to sound confident. "Of course I didn't."
"We're still friends." He says softly, closing his claws together so incredibly gently around your hands, letting the two of you be a little more connected as he marvels at his luck. Of all the squishies in the galaxy, this trip had led him to you, the one who made him happier than anything. Despite all sense you loved him, and he loves you back, and the two of you would get to keep on adventuring after this. You smile as you repeat your vow to make your dedication clear.
"Today, tomorrow, and always."
Those words strike a tender chord in his still sensitive spark, for you to believe them so confidently you'll repeat them with ease, and he's promoted to react on a whim.
"Can we hug?"
"Hug?"
"Is there an ech-" The rapid fire reflex of a joke fades out in the face of his genuine and unheard of desire for a bit of tender contact. Releasing your hands, he opens his arms to make his point clear, and is delighted when you start nodding even before he's done asking. "Yes, if you don't mind... okay? Okay."
It's more of a hug for you than him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle against his helm to show affection, feeling him wrap as much of his gangly frame around you as possible without risking any kind of damage. While this may not be the first time he's initiated something like this, it's one of very few rare occasions, and thus you know this is special. You can feel how badly he wants the comfort through the ease he shows at your touch.
"You want to stay like this for a bit?" You ask gingerly, getting settled so you can stay comfortable for a few minutes cuddled up to him.
"Mhmm." He says softly, admitting to himself that hugs might actually be worth the fuss after all. Tiny hands reassuringly pat his shoulder, encouraging him to stay in place while he basks in this single perfect moment. He hadn't dared to hope you'd still be friends after this, but here you were, your little body holding and comforting him as if he wasn't several times your size. Funny thing, that fate, eh?
"Take your time."
"Y/N?" He whispers softly into the quiet, wanting to say one final thing before taking a few minutes to enjoy your company.
"Hm?"
There's a tiny pause before he holds you close with one final statement.
"Thanks."
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pepperful-qt · 4 years ago
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Hi there! Can I request hcs of kuroo, kita and semi with a big brain s/o? It doesn't just apply to s/o academically, but more so about life in general (like having ~streetsmarts~) thank you!
you said street smarts my mind went to jj bittenbinder. ngl i kinda used the wisdom proficiencies from d&d as reference for this hahaha nerd i hope it’s what you want! also i just want to thank you for requesting my not-so-secret fav semi semi
Kuroo, Kita, & Semi with a big brain s/o
* * * * *
Kuroo Tetsuro
oh this man appreciates it. he’s so entertained
you know that drinking game that Tyrion does with Shae where he guesses something about your past and if he’s right you have to drink, if not he does? that’s what you do minus the drinking part obv,, unless
as a person with high charisma himself, you make it a game to see who can bluff out and/or fool the other (you almost always win)
any time there’s a game night and you’re playing a social deception game you always win. no one can get a lie past you
if it’s a teamwork one, you and Kuroo crush everyone else
you find ways to skimp on your hw but still come out fine. he has no idea how, and it both annoys and impresses him
“i thought you stayed up watching buzzfeed unsolved instead of studying last night??”
“yeah so what?”
“but you got a 96%”
he knows that intelligence isn’t just defined by what you’re able to memorize out of a book, and you’re a perfect example of that. he respects you a lot
you’re the type of person that reads random articles and therefore has the most random bits of trivia that you throw in conversation
he can have an intellectual conversation with you, since you always come up with unique perspectives. he loves asking your opinion on things, bc who tf knows what’ll come out of your mouth
you don’t know what a derivative is to save your life but you know the location of every 7/11 in a ten mile radius, and if they carry a specific type of onigiri or cup noodle flavor
but fr you give the best advice and are always there to lend an ear
you watch murder mystery movies together and try to figure out the culprit, sometimes actually arguing over it
other times you’ll watch a drama and make bets on who’s gonna do what or end up with who
rip Kenma in the corner just trying to live his life
it’s hilarious seeing you interact with someone who is not “big brain” or street smart
let’s just use Lev as an example for no particular reason, just bc
you quickly learned that Lev would believe almost anything you said, he was that fascinated by your apparent wisdom
so you and Kuroo will sometimes join forces and see what you can get him to believe. you once convinced him that if you kill an insect you’d become that insect in your next life and die the same way, and for a solid month he would start crying if he ever stepped on an ant
chaos couple™
you have this whole atmosphere about you that is just “do not fuck with me” bamf if i do say so myself
which tbh is one of the things he finds most attractive about you. you knew exactly what he was up to the first time he started flirting with you, but you weren’t intimidated one bit. you became a challenge~
10/10 best looking couple of the three
* * * 
Kita Shinsuke
the two voices of reason, bless you both. you’re very similar, but also very different
he’s the definition of high intelligence & high wisdom with low charisma cleric kita omg, while you have both high wisdom and high charisma with an intelligence stat you barely use (high or low lol)
he’s the kind of guy who always thinks things through with logic, and he’s always sure of his decisions
you on the other hand, have an intuition based logic
freaks him out when you rely on your gut instinct but somehow it always pays off
“why?” 
“just because” 
“but why??”
you’re adaptable in almost every situation, always know what to say, and have an uncanny ability to read people
which actually comes in handy in your relationship
he’s not the best at expressing himself but you always seem to know his emotional state and thought process, something no one else except his granny has really cracked yet and you do it so easily. sometimes he wonders if you’re a mind reader
you knew he liked you before he did & you asked him out first ~
“Shin-kun, you look happy today!” 
“Ah, I was able to clean all the volleyballs after practice and still had time to fold and organize the scrimmige vests by color.”
meanwhile Atsumu: “hE litERALLY?? looks the sAME??!”
speaking of the twins, you’re great at handling them
Atsumu tried to scare you away the first time you showed up at practice before you and Kita announced your relationship, but you were calm and polite
which tbh put him off more than if you’d clammed up or gotten angry. he almost felt bad for being rude. almost.
imagine how bad he felt when Kita found out
the both of you are both feared and respected by the team 
you’ll help Kita out with his self-assigned chores sometimes, figuring out new ways to be efficient and not lose quality
he also loves how he can trust you to take care of yourself, whether it’s walking home alone or losing you in a crowd or just looking after your health. he still worries and dotes on you but it’s out of love, not because he’s concerned you’ll hurt yourself unintentionally 
he loves a person with common sense @ inarizaki
you’re both really good at getting gifts for each other, since you’re both very perceptive
one time you guessed his favorite flavor of ice cream and it made the butterflies a’flutter
there’s this silent competition between you two of who can give the better gifts
wishes you would study more though ngl. he knows you’re smart you just don’t always dedicate that intelligence to your schoolwork
he finds it charming how you’re always looking at things from different angles rather than the straightforward path. he thinks it’s a very good quality
that “yeah but what if...” kind of mentality
we already know he appreciates that attitude if he doesn’t really take it on himself
you’re both able to appreciate the nuances of life and enjoy the moment together
your relationship is one of the most balanced and strong out there tbh,,
* * *
Semi Eita
you’ve got this charm that makes people respect you. a certain type of confidence, if you will, that made him first notice you
lots of students were intimidated by the members of the volleyball team, for their height and reputation etc, but you never showed any reservation, not even with Ushijima
as well as your conviction, you have take no shit attitude that comes in great handy with certain members of the team it’s also hot af
you can banter with Tendou and you provoke Goshiki all day long but never Shirabu bc you know what’s up
you do however irritate him with mind games, bc you know he’s a little shit who stole your bf’s spot and needs to be taken down a peg sometimes
you: *describing the quantum wave trolley problem”
Shirabu: *screams*
all the while Semi is trying and failing to hide the smug little smirk on his face
with Semi though, you’re able to just talk
he enjoys conversation with you bc he’s never bored. you make him think and you make him laugh, both good things
sometimes you’ll point something out that just makes him go “oh” bc it seems so obvious when you point it out
other times it’s something so outlandish that he can’t help but crack a smile or let out a laugh 
sometimes it’s the connect the dots meme “you didn’t connect shit” lmao
again, solid advice giver with no holds barred. anyone who needs to be straight up told what they need to hear comes to you, bc you're usually right
and Semi himself can get lost in his own head so it's nice to have you to ground him
you’re decent in your classes sure, but where you really impress is your strategy in game. any game
once you were invited to play laser tag with the team and you whipped out a battle plan that annihilated the other team
alternatively, you show no mercy in monopoly or uno, damn your relationships
it’s actually very annoying how quickly you pick up the rules and nuances to games and use them to your advantage
if you’re both very competitive, it’s usually better for everyone if you’re both on the same team
but he likes a challenge heh
okay, we know he’s bad at dressing himself when it comes to casual outfits. no common sense. you notice this too
“Eita, sweetie, if you go out like that you will get mugged,, even in Miyagi.”
you’ll walk down the street hand in hand and you make random guesses or stories about the people you see 
“that guy is totally a scammer” or “bet that lady looking at the papaya is trying to start a diet for the third time, look at her face” and he’ll chuckle
he knows there’s always something going on inside your mind and he wants to know
when you’re lost in thought he’ll tap your forehead
“hey what’s going on in there?”
he enjoys listening to your musings and thoughts and opinions. you either have a crazy gut instinct or have some unique thought you’ve internally debated over for months
gets inspiration from you actually, even if he doesn’t realize it
likewise, you realize he has a lot on his mind he doesn’t say, but you have a way of making him say it, even if he is hesitant and abrasive at first
you’ll call him at 3am with a random thought and he’ll grumble a bit but actually will listen to you with the smallest smile on his face
* * * * * 
i hope??? this was good??? also lmk if this is too long without a read more i’m not sure :P
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juliabohemian · 4 years ago
Text
that’s what you get for burying your dead
Imagine Thor and Loki both end up living on Earth, post Endgame. If this were real life, you know that they would end up being interviewed by Buzzfeed or some Youtube channel eventually. Here is a script of one such interview:
INTERVIEWER: "First, I want to thank you both for doing this."
THOR: "You're welcome."
LOKI: "You should probably wait until after to thank us..."
INTERVIEWER: "I'm just going to ask you some questions."
THOR: "Sounds easy enough."
INTERVIEWER: "Okay, so...you're spending the night in a haunted cabin."
LOKI: "Is that a question?"
INTERVIEWER: "I'm setting the stage."
LOKI: "Ah...carry on."
INTERVIEWER: "You're spending the night in a haunted cabin...”
THOR: "When you say haunted...”
LOKI: "Ghosts and whatnot."
THOR: "What kind of ghosts?"
INTERVIEWER: "Are there different kinds?"
LOKI: "Absolutely."
INTERVIEWER: "I'm not sure...”
THOR: "Wait, where is this place?"
INTERVIEWER: "They didn't include a location. It's just...”
LOKI: "It's a hypothetical place."
THOR: "Hypo...”
LOKI: "It's not real. You have to use your imagination."
INTERVIEWER: "Right. So, it's a haunted cabin. The first night you are there, you are sleeping in your beds. It's totally dark and you hear what sounds like a woman, moaning."
THOR: "What kind of moaning are we talking about? Because...”
LOKI: "Mmm...not the good kind, probably."
INTERVIEWER: "Oh brother...”
THOR: "Because if it is the good kind...”
INTERVIEWER: "Remember, this cabin is in a remote area. So, there are no other people around."
THOR: "So, even if it were the good kind of moaning...”
LOKI: "She's out there, all by herself."
THOR: "...just having a good time.”
INTERVIEWER: "Seriously, you guys...”
LOKI: "Yes, alright. We're being rude. And I think we're embarrassing this young lady...”
INTERVIEWER: "It's fine, really...”
LOKI: But we need to answer the question."
THOR: "So sorry."
LOKI: "We hear moaning."
THOR: "This is coming from outside the cabin?"
INTERVIEWER: "Yes, it's outside. But since you are in a remote area, there's no way it can be another, like, person...”
THOR: "Hmm...that's a tough one."
LOKI: "First of all, and I mean no offense, but this is what you get for burying your dead."
THOR: "Oh, he's got a point."
INTERVIEWER: "You guys don't bury your dead?"
THOR: "Nope."
INTERVIEWER: "What do you do?"
LOKI: "We burn...what do you call it, cremation?"
INTERVIEWER: "We do that, sometimes."
LOKI: "You should probably do it all of the time."
THOR: "Cuts way down on the moaning."
LOKI: "It does."
INTERVIEWER: "Okay, that's good advice. But let's focus, though. You hear this sound. What do you do?"
THOR: "I mean, it's a woman. We can probably take her."
LOKI: "Now, that's an unfair assumption."
THOR: "Is it?"
LOKI: "She could be enormous, for all you know."
THOR: "An enormous, moaning woman."
LOKI: "But what if that's all she does?"
THOR: "Oh, so she's not dangerous. She's just...”
LOKI: "...annoying."
THOR: "We invest in earplugs. Problem solved."
INTERVIEWER: "So, you don't even go outside to look."
THOR: "No."
INTERVIEWER: "You're not concerned about the source of the moaning?"
LOKI: "I can't speak for my brother, but I have learned, through process of elimination, that curiosity is not my friend."
THOR: "He's not wrong."
INTERVIEWER: "I feel like this is more of an issue of survival...”
THOR: "Pfft...what's she going to do to us?"
LOKI: "Look, she's out there, somewhere. She's moaning. Who knows why? Not me. Because it's none of my business."
INTERVIEWER: "What if it becomes your business?"
LOKI: "Then, I will reassess."
THOR: "That's a good strategy."
LOKI: "Thank you."
INTERVIEWER: "Okay...”
THOR: "And I can sleep through anything."
LOKI: "That's right. You can."
INTERVIEWER: "The next question also involves a cabin. Just not a haunted one."
THOR: "So many cabins on this planet."
LOKI: "This is the cabin planet...”
THOR: "Heh...”
INTERVIEWER: "So you are staying at a cabin that you found on AIRBnB."
LOKI: "Uh...I have no idea what that is."
THOR: "Oh, I've heard of this before. It's an internet thing."
INTERVIEWER: "It's an app you can use to find places to stay, around the world. But they're not, like, hotels or whatever. They in people's homes."
LOKI: "So, you are lodging in other people's homes."
INTERVIEWER: "Correct."
THOR: "Do we know these people?"
INTERVIEWER: "No, they're total strangers."
LOKI: "Then, why are we lodging in their homes?"
INTERVIEWER: "You pay them and they let you stay in their guest house or guest bedroom...”
LOKI: "That sounds way more frightening than the moaning woman."
THOR: "What if they watch us sleep?"
INTERVIEWER: "That's actually a very good question-"
LOKI: "Oh, I don't think I like where this is going...”
INTERVIEWER: "So, you stay at this place, overnight. Nothing out of the ordinary happens while you are there. But, about a week later, you're on YouTube...”
LOKI: "YouTube."
THOR: "Another internet thing."
LOKI: "Lots of internet things."
THOR: "Yeah...”
LOKI: "And lots of cabins."
INTERVIEWER: "YouTube is a website where people can post videos. So, about a week after you stay at the cabin, you are on YouTube, and you find a video of yourselves sleeping."
LOKI: "Oh my...is that what people usually post on YouTube?"
INTERVIEWER: "No. Not at all. I mean, there are restrictions to what you can post. If a video gets flagged as inappropriate, it would get taken down."
LOKI: "So, it sounds like this would be inappropriate...”
INTERVIEWER: "Right. This video would probably get taken down. What I want to know is, how you would react to finding it?"
THOR: "Um...”
LOKI: "I think I would want to know why...”
THOR: "Is that all there is in the video? Just us, sleeping?"
INTERVIEWER: "Yes."
THOR: "Are they doing anything to us?"
INTERVIEWER: "No."
LOKI: "Is it, at least, artistically done?"
THOR: "Ha ha...”
INTERVIEWER: "No, it's just a brief video of you sleeping...”
LOKI: "That just seems like a really odd use of someone's time.
INTERVIEWER: "Would you confront the people who owned the cabin?"
THOR: "Yes."
INTERVIEWER: "What would you say to them?"
THOR: "I wouldn't waste time with words."
INTERVIEWER: "So, you would just hurt them."
THOR: "Probably."
INTERVIEWER: "And what would you be doing, while this is going on?"
LOKI: "I suppose I would would record it and put it on YouTube."
THOR: "Oh, that's the spirit...”
INTERVIEWER: "That would definitely get taken down."
LOKI: "I don't think I like this planet anymore. Let’s go...”
INTERVIEWER: "Wait...I still have more questions...”
LOKI: "And these are all hypothetical scenarios?"
INTERVIEWER: "I mean, these are based on stories that people claim are true."
THOR: "That's a yes...”
INTERVIEWER: "They could be true. They're mostly based on Creepypasta."
LOKI: "Yet, another thing I've never heard of."
INTERVIEWER: "What do you think it is?"
THOR: "Creepy pasta...”
LOKI: "Well, it sounds like something you shouldn't eat."
INTERVIEWER: "It's not food."
THOR: "Pasta is food...”
INTERVIEWER: "It's like an urban legend."
LOKI: "Folklore."
INTERVIEWER: "Exactly."
LOKI: "No mythical beasts. Just...people watching you sleep."
THOR: "In cabins...”
LOKI: "In cabins."
INTERVIEWER: "Okay...”
LOKI: "While women moan, outside."
THOR: "Ha ha...”
INTERVIEWER: "So, the next question involves something called an airdrop. Do you know what that is?"
LOKI: "I'm going to guess that it's another internet thing."
THOR: "It's definitely not a cabin...”
LOKI: "Thor airdropped me once...”
THOR: "I caught you before you hit the ground, though...”
INTERVIEWER: "Do you guys have cell phones?"
LOKI: "Uh...he does."
THOR: "So do you."
LOKI: "I don't know where it is, though."
THOR: "Seriously?"
LOKI: "I turned it off."
THOR: "This is why you don't answer my messages."
LOKI: "Um...yes."
THOR: "Why don't you turn it back on?"
LOKI: "Because then, I'd have to answer all your messages."
INTERVIEWER: "Airdrop is a way to send documents to, basically, anyone around you who has a device. It's based on physical proximity. People usually use it for memes...”
THOR: "Another internet thing...”
INTERVIEWER: "In this scenario, you're standing in a crowded place."
LOKI: "Is it a crowded cabin?"
INTERVIEWER: "No...it's a train station."
LOKI: "A locomotive."
INTERVIEWER: "Correct."
THOR: "I rode one of those...”
LOKI: "Did you? When was this?"
THOR: "Um...”
INTERVIEWER: "While you're waiting for your train, someone sends you an airdrop on your phone."
LOKI: "And it's pictures of us, sleeping."
THOR: "It's the YouTube video...”
LOKI: "And there's a woman moaning, in the background...”
INTERVIEWER: "It's just a text, telling you that the train is going to blow up and that you shouldn't get on it."
LOKI: "Interesting."
INTERVIEWER: "Interesting?"
THOR: "Who is sending this, uh...airdrop?"
INTERVIEWER: "You don't know. That's the point."
LOKI: "Are other people getting this message as well? Or is it just us?"
INTERVIEWER: "Just you guys."
THOR: "Hmm."
INTERVIEWER: "So, do you stop people from getting on the train?"
LOKI: "I believe that would cause a panic."
THOR: "We can't just let them get on the train, though."
LOKI: "You're assuming this is an actual threat. It could be there's nothing wrong with the train at all."
THOR: "Oh, I see what you're saying-"
LOKI: "So, then we're just frightening a bunch of people for no reason."
THOR: "Right...”
LOKI: "I've noticed they frown upon that sort of thing around here...”
THOR: "What a conundrum."
LOKI: "Indeed."
INTERVIEWER: "So, what would you do?"
LOKI: "I would scan the crowd and see if I could locate the culprit."
THOR: "Good idea."
INTERVIEWER: "What if you can't find them?"
LOKI: "I would leave the area."
INTERVIEWER: "And just let the train blow up?"
THOR: "Assuming it does...”
LOKI: "What sort of time frame are we talking about, here?"
INTERVIEWER: "Minutes."
LOKI: "I would just leave. If the train does explode, at least they can't pin it on me."
THOR: "They probably still will, though.”
LOKI: "Probably...”
THOR: "What about the people on the train?"
LOKI: "Am I suddenly responsible for them, simply because I was standing there and happened to receive that message?"
THOR: "Well...”
LOKI: "Who's to say whether they would even listen to me. Most rational people would probably dismiss me as a lunatic."
THOR: "I hadn't thought of that...”
LOKI: "There are too many unknowns. If I knew for certain that taking a specific action would achieve a specific result...”
INTERVIEWER: "That's the point. We don't generally have that luxury...”
LOKI: "You answer this one."
THOR: "I think I would try to save them."
LOKI: "You would tell them the train is going to explode."
THOR: "I would...”
LOKI: "What if they don't listen to you? What if you end up being wrong?"
THOR: "I don't know."
LOKI: "People recognize you. They know who you are. After this, you would become known as the guy who claimed the train was going to blow up. People would see you and say there goes that crazy train guy-"
INTERVIEWER: "Um...”
LOKI: "The children would laugh and point. And you would become sullen and eventually retire to a remote cabin, where you could live out the remainder of your years...”
THOR: "...with the moaning woman."
LOKI: "With the moaning woman."
THOR: "We would get married and have little, moaning children."
INTERVIEWER: "Oh boy-"
LOKI: "And...scene."
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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago
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Cinderelly, Cinderelly, night and day, it’s Cinderelly~... ^.^ Okay..before I jump into the next part of the Cinderella AU, here’s your usual appetizer of random historical/etc. notes!
Although carriages were developed centuries earlier, actual coaches like the kind we think of from Cinderella stories were first developed in the late 16th century in Hungary, specifically a little town called Kocs. (The word “coach” and its alternatives in other languages, such as the German Kutsche and the Spanish and Portuguese coche, are thought to have been derived from the Hungarian kocsi, meaning “of Kocs.”) They then really caught on in the rest of Europe after Queen Elizabeth I of England started using them in the 1580s. The terms “coach” and “carriage” are often used interchangeably, but if one wanted to pin-point the advancements coaches specifically made in contrast to carriages of the past, there are a few differences one can pick out in how they’re built. Coaches generally are four-wheeled enclosed vehicles with doors and/or windows (glass was added in later centuries), and often include a “boot” seat on the outside for a footman and/or luggage to sit on. Coaches also generally have a reputation for providing a smoother ride than previous modes of transport because they’re suspended between the wheels rather than directly over or beside them. After the invention of the coach, one can find carriages (royal ones, in particular) adopting some of these same attributes.
Sadly wheelchairs really weren’t a thing in the 16th century. The first self-propelled wheeled chairs were developed in the mid-17th century and refined in the 18th, with sedan chairs or litters (A.K.A. chairs you carried) generally being used by the nobility prior to that. But there’s no way in Hell I’m not going to give McNully the independence he deserves, so I used a completely anachronistic design inspired by this antique wheelchair I found online, made circa around the 1840′s. Hey, this is a fantasy world anyway, so bleh. :P The flower detailing on the wheel is supposed to evoke an emblem I see being on Florence’s green and gold coat of arms (get it? “Florence?” “Flora?”). You might also notice that McNully has little Snitch-like “wing” frills on each of his buttons! XD
Another fun thing I learned while doing research -- although cloaks were often worn for warmth during the medieval period and beyond, in England during the Elizabethan era, their use was actually actively discouraged and even prohibited, as they were associated with criminals and rebels! Therefore it was common for a lot of English noblemen and women to wear thicker clothing made of wool and accessories like muffs, gloves, and even jackets for warmth instead. I tried very, very hard to find historically accurate examples of period-worthy jackets and capes for women around the time of the Renaissance, and was very frustrated to find a lot of fantasy-esque costume pieces or historical clothing from later eras that were simply mislabeled -- but I did find one lovely recreation of a 16th century wool jacket, so that’s what I used as reference for Carewyn’s jacket in this sketch, though I personally imagine it as a dark red, so as to better blend with her burnt orange and beige servant’s uniform. Bill’s uniform is based off a real castle guard uniform from early 16th century France, though with a much simpler color palette (I see Royaume’s colors being blue and red). Like with McNully’s chair, there’s a crown on the chest of Bill’s uniform, which I see being on Royaume’s coat of arms (“royaume” is literally French for “kingdom”).
In her canon, Carewyn was born when Jacob was nine years old. Although in most of Carewyn and Jacob’s canon post-Portrait-Vault, they end up being only two years apart in age, that’s only because Jacob stopped aging while trapped in a Portrait for seven years. From Carewyn’s fifth year on, Jacob and Carewyn in canon therefore act much more like contemporaries, even though Jacob actually kind of ended up partially raising Carewyn alongside their mother Lane.
Previous part is here – whole tag is here – Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee and I hope you all enjoy! xoxo
x~x~x~x
Every day over the next week, Carewyn met Orion at the gate of the palace of Royaume, and the two would spend an hour or so together. Orion would ask her about life at the palace, Carewyn would playfully respond, and sooner or later, they’d end up getting diverted and talking about something else completely, whether the upcoming Winter Festival, the language of flowers, art, poetry, the meaning of life, music, fencing, or (after seeing a rather beautiful eagle flying overhead) what it might be like to fly. Carewyn honestly wasn’t entirely sure what Orion got out of their meetings besides entertainment, and naturally she couldn’t afford to indulge in such entertainment too long, when she had so much work to do around the castle and she still had to find out where Jacob was positioned. But she had to admit, with the King and Queen having invited Iris over to stay in one of the guest suites at the palace for the remainder of the month, Carewyn didn’t mind having an excuse to stay far away from her cousin. Lately Carewyn had actively planned her days so that she could clean the guest suites at teatime, when Iris would be in one of the foyers with the King, Queen, and Prince on the opposite side of the palace. She did not want a repeat of the other day, after all...particularly since she’d also need time to change out of the nicer, collared dresses she’d wear when spending time with Orion.
Orion, meanwhile, was of course getting a bit more than entertainment out of his and Carewyn’s meetings. Through speaking with Carewyn, he’d sussed out some very helpful information about Royaumanian culture, the dynamics within Royaume’s royal family, and both their and their country’s financial state. One day he told his closest confidantes at court, Skye and McNully, some of what he’d learned...but Skye didn’t react quite as favorably as Orion had expected.
“...I gave Lady Cromwell a copy of the sheet music for ‘No One is Alone’ last week -- you remember the song, of course? And from what I understand, Prince Henri and the castle staff have quite taken to it. Not that I’m surprised -- Carewyn has a very soothing voice. I’m sure she performed it very well. But the Prince listening to the words at all is a good sign -- I even asked Carewyn if the Prince enjoyed them, and she said she believed so. She also found their message meaningful...one of Florence’s best-loved anti-War songs, and one about looking through another’s eyes and forgiving past grievances, no less! That can only be a good sign, for Royaumanians to take heart in it. It surely must have been fate that Lady Cromwell and I collided at the market -- I had a feeling we were kindred spirits, when she came to my aid, but now I am most assured of it. I might hazard a guess that she wishes for peace just as much as I -- for the sake of her brother fighting in the field, yes, but also selflessly for the sake of others, not wishing to see any other person in pain...”
“She sounds like a perfect knight in shining armor,” said Skye, her voice oddly cutting.
Orion looked up at Skye, startled by her tone. Her arms were crossed over the chest of her faded blue linen dress.
“Anything else you want to tell us about the fair Lady Cromwell,” she said rather icily, “or are you actually ready to talk about how you plan to end this War?”
Orion blinked slowly. “...I thought that we were already discussing that.”
“Really?” scoffed Skye. “‘Cause it sounds to me like you were busy gushing over your new conquest.”
“Conquest?” Orion repeated. His confused tone then melted into something more soothing and indulgent, “Oh -- no, Skye...you misunderstand me. I have no interest in courting Carewyn -- she’s just my contact point, with the palace.”
Skye gave a very loud, disbelieving snort. “Ha! Right, of course she is -- that’s why you can’t stop gushing about ‘Carewyn this’ and ‘Lady Cromwell that.’”
“Skye has a point, Orion,” said McNully, though his voice was a lot less confrontational. If anything he sounded almost sheepish. “I mean, about 85% of your report was about Lady Cromwell. You used her name over ten times just in the span of a minute.”
Amazingly Orion’s calm, hard-to-read expression didn’t crack. His hands clasped lightly in front of him.
“Lady Cromwell plays an essential part in this strategy. I’m an outsider looking in, without her insight -- a ship sailing blindly, without the light from a lighthouse to give me direction.”
“A lighthouse for a lost ship -- oh yeah, those sound like the words of someone who’s focusing on winning a war and not swooning over a pretty face,” said Skye scathingly. “Maybe instead of always running off and playing dress-up, you could actually bother to do your duty and go help fight on the battlefield for once!”
Orion’s lips came together tightly, but it didn’t make his expression any less composed. McNully shot Skye an uncomfortable, faintly disapproving look.
“Easy, Skye,” he murmured. “You know Orion -- ”
But Skye didn’t seem to hear McNully. Instead she tore into Orion.
“Face it, Orion -- you just like being treated like a commoner again and being able to make believe that you don’t have any responsibilities or worries...well, guess what? You’re not a commoner anymore! You’re the Prince of Florence -- you reckon little Miss Knight-in-Shining-Armor would take kindly to that, when she finds out?”
Orion’s dark eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Skye’s face.
“Carewyn’s not an unreasonable woman,” he said softly. “I’m certain she would understand the reason behind my secrecy.”
This, if anything, only seemed to make Skye madder.
“Of course she would,” she muttered sourly. “Little Lady Royaume can do no wrong in your eyes, can she?”
She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving Orion feeling very resigned and confused. McNully gave a heavy sigh, before facing Orion with a more serious expression.
“She’s overreacting, as usual,” he said, “but she’s still 60% right. It’s risky enough for you to get this close to anyone right now, when your position as Crown Prince is threatened by the likes of Lord Malfoy. He’d frankly love to have something like that over you. But someone from Royaume? The granddaughter of one of the most powerful, wealthy, and feared noblemen in their country? Orion, that’s dangerous.”
Orion leaned his hands on the table, looking down at the map of Florence and Royaume laid out on top of it.
“McNully, I assure you...my objective has not changed,” he said very levelly. “Everything I have done is for Florence -- for peace and balance. I admit, Lady Cromwell is a fascinating woman, and certainly one to be admired...but I spend time with her to gather intelligence I can obtain nowhere else. That is all.”
McNully looked doubtful, but didn’t directly address it. Instead he said, “I understand she’s your eyes and ears inside the palace, and the intelligence you’re getting is valuable...but don’t forget, she isn’t on your team. She’s on Royaume’s. And right now, Royaume is kicking our tail out there, on the battlefield.”
Orion’s dark eyes drifted away from the table as McNully leaned his arms on the table himself.
“It’s getting bad again,” he murmured very seriously. “I know you said the palace of Royaume’s strapped for funds, but somehow or another, they’ve scrounged up enough to get more cannons, and their troops have been moving them around every couple of hours so that our men never know where they’re going to be firing from next. It’s been very effective. Whoever’s been giving Royaume’s King and Queen military strategy lately, they’re a bloody genius.”
McNully clearly was irritated about this, given the flash that shot through his narrowed eyes.
“Your father sent me a request for a counter-strategy this morning. You know it’s likely if the strategy isn’t one he can execute on his own, he may ask both you and me to join him there, on the front lines.”
Orion did not respond. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was something oddly detached and avoidant in his posture.
“I know you don’t want that, and you know I have faith in you,” said McNully, “but your strategy is a slow burn, Orion. It requires both patience and time...and we might not end up having as much of those as you think.”
Once again, Orion chose not to answer. McNully sighed again.
“You know I’ll be right behind you in a coach, if you need me,” he said tiredly. “Just...mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”
Orion threw on his black traveling cloak and headed back to Royaume not long after, hoping to meet up with Carewyn for an evening stroll. There was a notable chill in the air -- if it got much colder, he thought that any rain might instead come down as sleet or maybe even snow.
When Orion arrived at the gate, however, he was met not by Carewyn, but by KC. She was dressed in a high-necked gown made of black velvet and holding a leather-bound book and a stack of parchment in her arms.
Orion tilted his head slightly to glance at the piece of parchment on the top of the stack, which had several “X’s” scattered over an oddly familiar map.
“Plans to bury some pirate treasure?” he asked pleasantly.
KC gave a lightly amused snort. “No, just military plans.”
Her lightly freckled face then grew a bit more serious. “I guess you’re here for Carewyn?”
Orion had been ready to ask more about the military plans KC was holding, but decided not to circle back to it when she changed the subject.
“Yes. Has she been detained?”
“I guess so...” said KC. Her lips twisted into a concerned frown as she looked out at the darkening sky.
Orion’s eyebrows knit together over his eyes slightly. “You seem concerned.”
KC bit her lip. “Mm...it’s just...well, you see, one of the royal carriages broke down earlier today, when the Queen was riding through the country with Lady Yaxley.”
Orion raised his eyebrows. “Lady Iris Yaxley, do you mean? Carewyn’s cousin?”
“Yes. No one was badly hurt, fortunately, but the Queen, Lady Iris, and the coachman and footman were forced to ride the horses back and leave the carriage behind. When they got back, they asked the royal carpenter, Charlie Weasley, to go fix it. Charlie said that he probably wouldn’t have the proper tools to fix it here at the castle, so Carewyn offered to ride out with him, so that their horses could drag the coach together to the Weasley family cottage, about forty minutes away. The problem is,” she said with a deepening frown, “they left over two hours ago, and they’re still not back yet. Bill headed out after them on his own horse not long before you got here...he’s Charlie’s brother, so he knows the route they would’ve taken...”
Orion’s dark eyes had narrowed significantly.
“Which road did Sir Weasley take after them?” he asked, his calm voice nonetheless touched with the faintest edge.
KC pointed. “Northwest -- toward the mountains.”
Orion nodded. “Thank you.”
And with this, he turned on his heel and rushed back toward where he thought he might find McNully’s coach. He needed to borrow a horse.
Setting one of the black horses free of the black coach, Orion rode off toward the mountains, his slightly-too-long dark hair flapping freely behind him. The road was well-marked, but it soon veered off into dense woods as it migrated up toward the mountains. Orion had never gone so far west into Royaume before, let alone far from Florence before. Despite himself, he had to acknowledge the beauty of the landscape. The views of the castle below were breathtaking -- it looked as tiny as a toy, and yet the infinite glass windows made it sparkle like some diamond-like beacon in the darkening sky. He wondered if his own palace in Florence looked so beautiful to others, at a distance. As much as he himself hadn’t been raised a prince, it was difficult for him to look at his own palace as anything other than a cage.
As he went further uphill and the sky darkened, it also grew colder. Orion was starting to see his own breath on the air. He thought of Carewyn alone in the cold, perhaps hurt, and had to take several deep breaths to sooth his nerves. He was never in a right state, when he let his thoughts run too wild or his fears chatter too loudly.
Finally Orion caught sight of two familiar ginger-headed men, standing by an overturned coach, covered in mud and missing one of its back wheels. One of the men was the tall, freckled castle guard from the other day who Carewyn called Bill, dressed in his high-collared blue and red patterned uniform tunic and matching white feathered, blue-velvet hat -- the other was much stockier, but no less freckled, dressed in a burgundy-colored tunic and loose brown pants and boots, and he wore his ginger hair in a ponytail not unlike Orion’s when he was at court. When Orion approached them, Bill immediately reacted with suspicion -- Orion explained what KC had told him and asked where Carewyn was, and was incredibly startled to hear her voice coming from over the edge of the cliff.
“I’m down here!”
Orion couldn’t help but feel a flash of concern. He raced over as if to look over the edge, but Charlie lashed out an arm in front of the taller man to stop him.
“Uh, I wouldn’t look over if I were you, mate,” he said, having trouble biting back his laughter despite himself.
He pointed at the broken carriage. Hanging over one of the doors was what looked like the burnt orange and beige skirt of a dress and several wool petticoats.
Orion blinked a few times in great surprise, his tanned cheeks darkening with a faint blush. Bill, however, reacted with anxiety.
“Carewyn!” he shouted over the ravine. “Are you in your underwear down there!?”
“Ugh -- well, I couldn’t very well climb down into this briar patch and wrench this wheel loose in my dress, could I?” Carewyn called back up rather haughtily. “At least my bloomers are slightly akin to the sorts of trousers you all wear.”
“You’ll catch a death of cold out here!” said Bill.
“I’m all right,” Carewyn reassured him. “Ulk -- ugh -- I have the wool jacket Andre made for me on...”
Charlie took a step forward, his eyes moved up toward the darkening sky pointedly so as not to look over the edge as he called down,
“Bill’s right, though, Carewyn -- it’s getting colder by the minute...and it’s getting dark too. Are you sure you can lift that thing up and over all by yourself?”
“Ugh...I admit, it’s a bit difficult!” she called back. “But I think I can manage.”
Recalling Carewyn’s blatant refusal of help in retrieving her horse, Orion -- still fighting back a slight blush -- called over the ravine himself.
“We do not question your capabilities, Carewyn,” he said patiently, “but would you like our help?”
“Ugh -- don’t be silly,” said Carewyn, sounding faintly haughty. “You, Charlie, and Bill would break your necks, climbing down here. And I’m still in my undergarments -- I have no interest in anyone seeing me prance around without proper clothes on, thank you.”
“It’s no use,” Charlie muttered under his breath, “I’ve tried to offer her help for the last hour, but she keeps putting me off, saying she’s fine. I don’t get why she feels like she has to do everything by herself...”
“Probably because she’s always had to, Charlie,” said Bill quietly. His voice betrayed a lot of sympathy and sadness as he exhaled through his nose.
Orion’s black eyes deepened with some compassion for Bill as he called back over the ravine to Carewyn,
“Your points are well made, my lady...but we’d still like to help you.”
“Ugh -- you can help me by leaving me my dignity and not looking over while I’m only half-dressed...ack...”
“Would you accept us doing more than that?”
“Urgh -- I am...sorry to have made you and Bill come out all this way -- but I’m all right, really.”
Bill glanced at Orion out the side of his eye, and then back at the cliff. Despite his distrust of the man, the eldest Weasley was sort of glad he wasn’t the only one who disliked how reticent Carewyn was to accept help.
“You don’t need to apologize,” he said earnestly. “I was -- we were worried about you, Carewyn. You and Charlie.”
He and Orion glanced at each other. Bill wished the other man’s expression wasn’t so hard to read. The castle guard tried to twist his uncomfortable frown into a smile that Carewyn would hopefully be able to hear over the edge of the cliff.
“Come on...let’s get you and that wheel up and over so you can get back into your dress.”
There was a silence. Then Carewyn said a bit more quietly,
“...You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Wha -- oh, come off it, Carewyn!” said Charlie exasperatedly. “To hell we do! You think I was mucking about, calling you my pal and saying I needed to figure out a nickname for you? Now let us help you, or I’ll consider making that nickname an irritating one!”
There was another silence. Then Carewyn sighed very loudly and tiredly, and Orion couldn’t help but grin, because he could tell she’d finally given in.
“Oh, all right,” she said begrudgingly. “But I don’t really know how you’re going to help, when you can’t look at me.”
Orion closed his eyes.
“Describe your surroundings, Carewyn,” he said. “Paint a picture for me, with your words.”
“...Well, I’ve gotten the wheel out of the briar patch. I’m trying to roll it back up, but it’s as large as me, and the downward slope and the ice is making it difficult. Plus the wheel isn’t in great shape -- all of its spokes are broken, so there isn’t much for me to push up on, while rolling it uphill.”
“I would’ve told her to just forget it, but it’d be much easier for me to carve a new wheel if I have framework from the old one,” Charlie explained. “I’m already going to have to make the new spokes and hubcap completely out of wood instead of using any gold or metalwork, but it’s still going to take a lot of time...even more so if the old wheel framework can’t be saved...”
Orion considered the matter, visualizing the set-up down below on the inside of his eyelids. “...What’s left of the wheel...is it made of metal or wood?”
“Wood...but there seems to be some sort of metal lining around the rim, held on by nails.”
“That’d be for durability, I reckon,” said Charlie. “Wood alone would get chaffed badly on the ground, moving in a constant circle down cobblestones or over anything rocky.”
Orion opened his eyes and looked over the broken coach. His gaze lingered on the thick leather straps coming off of the front that no doubt would’ve attached it to their horses. Then he abruptly got up, rushing over to undo the straps from the carriage.
“What are you doing?” said Bill, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
Orion quickly knotted the long, thick leather straps together with several complex-looking and strong knots.
“Carewyn,” he called over very calmly, “I’m going to lower this down to you -- use the buckle and loop it securely around the inside rim of the wheel, so that it’s tight. Give it a light tug when it’s secure.”
He blindly tossed one end of the rope made out of leather straps over the edge of the cliff. After a minute, he felt a light tug at the end.
“Gentlemen,” Orion murmured to the Weasleys, “I’ll need you to hold this, for just a moment. Carewyn,” he added, as Charlie and Bill both grabbed the end of the makeshift rope and he let go, “I’m going to need you to step onto the wheel yourself and hold on.”
“What?” said Carewyn. “Orion, you can’t lift both me and the wheel -- it’s far too much! I’ll climb up and out myself -- ”
“Not to worry, my lady -- none of us will be doing the lifting,” said Orion serenely.
He led both his black horse and Bill’s chestnut horse over by their reins, and -- taking the makeshift rope from Bill and Charlie again -- he looped the end under the straps of both his and Bill’s saddles. He gave several tugs at all of the connections to make sure they were tight and secure before mounting his horse.
“Sir Weasley, if you would assist me.”
Catching onto Orion’s idea at last, Bill rushed forward so he could jump up onto his own horse.
“Mr. Weasley, you may want to have your hands ready to help Carewyn climb out when she gets close to the top,” said Orion over his shoulder. “Sir Weasley, together now.”
With a lot of effort and strain, the two horses were able to lift Carewyn and the broken wheel up and out of the ravine. Once Carewyn was out, all three men averted their eyes so she could put her dress back on. Once she was suitably redressed in her orange-and-beige dress, snood, and dark scarlet wool jacket, she, Bill, and Orion helped Charlie secure some makeshift posts he’d carved out of some nearby tree branches under the broken coach so that their four horses could lift it up off the ground and help support it without its second back wheel. Then the four hobbled the coach up the mountain the rest of the way to the Weasley family cottage.
The home of the Weasley family, affectionately nicknamed “the Burrow,” was built up against the side of a hill. Attached to the house was a large farm with sprawling pastures and short, rustic wooden fences. Its roof had clearly been patched up multiple times over the years with whatever kind of wood was on hand, making it resemble a patchwork quilt.
When the group arrived, Bill and Charlie’s youngest sibling and only sister Ginny immediately ran out to greet them -- she’d seen them coming up over the horizon and was beyond thrilled to see that it was her eldest brothers. Bill and Charlie’s teenage brothers Percy, Fred, George, and Ron soon followed along after. Fred and George -- who were identical twins -- were quick to crow that Charlie had brought them an early birthday present (namely, the coach), and Percy scolded them that clearly it was for work and they should let it alone. Orion and Carewyn ended up staying back at a distance, both faintly baffled by the amount of warmth and noise emanating from the seven siblings as they chattered amongst themselves, constantly stepping on each other’s feet and interrupting what everyone else was saying. Neither of them had ever encountered a family quite like this before. When Bill and Charlie’s parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley, emerged from the house, however, Molly very quickly bustled every last one of them inside, including Orion and Carewyn.
“In you go, the lot of you,” she said in a forceful, but very warm tone of voice. “You all look like you need some supper-- ”
“Oh -- no, Mrs. Weasley,” said Carewyn very quickly, “I couldn’t impose -- ”
“Nonsense, dear!” said Molly, as she took Carewyn’s hands and led her inside. “Why, you’re positively freezing! To think, you came all the way out here without a proper muff for your hands...”
“I had to help Charlie with the carriage,” Carewyn said, her eyes drawn away awkwardly rather than looking at Molly, “I couldn’t hope to have my hands free, using a muff...”
“Then both of you should come inside and get warm,” said Arthur, startling Orion with an amiable clap on the back. “Any friend of Bill and Charlie’s is a friend of our family.”
Carewyn had never been the subject of such coddling and generosity before in her life. Her mother had always taught her to treat people with respect and compassion, of course, but she had been a soft-spoken and understated person, and their family life had always been very quiet. And of course at the Cromwell estate, it had been less modest and quiet, but far less affectionate as well. Never had she ever visited such a loud, crowded, and faintly uncomfortable place that still nonetheless felt like a home, full of warmth and love.
Even Orion found himself feeling a bit unsettled by the Weasley family’s overwhelming hospitality. He’d been in plenty of unruly, crowded, and loud settings like this before -- but none of them had ever been quite this...well, jovial. It made it so that Orion yearned for peace, quiet, and returned distance, and yet also couldn’t help but marvel at the positive vibes that rippled off of this family and how much they could give, despite clearly having so little. When dinner was served, Orion had to politely decline a bowl of beef stew because he didn’t eat meat, and Molly Weasley immediately handed the bowl off to Ron so she could set about making Orion his own plate, piled high with cheesy mashed potatoes, sauteed mushrooms, and roasted cauliflower seasoned with garlic and chives.
The Weasley family and their guests sat in an uncomfortable, messy half-circle around the large brick fireplace, laughing and talking as they ate. After supper came the dessert of hot, fresh apple dumplings, and after dessert came some hot tea and scones. After all, said Molly Weasley, having guests over was a rare treat, so they were going to celebrate appropriately. Neither Carewyn nor Orion could remember ever having felt so full in all their lives.
As everyone enjoyed their scones and tea, stories and songs were swapped around the fire. At one point in the evening, twelve-year-old Ginny -- who was perfectly thrilled to have another girl around, for a change -- begged Carewyn to sing for them. Apparently Bill had told his family all about her lovely voice. So, with some encouragement from Charlie, Arthur, and Molly, Carewyn bit back a broad, amused grin, took a deep breath, and started to sing.
“Mother cannot guide you...now you’re on your own.
Only me beside you -- still, you’re not alone...”
Orion had thought to himself that Carewyn must have done the song from his youth proper justice while singing for the Prince, but hearing her sing it in person, seeing her smile at him and her eyes sparkle as she did so...it was a completely different matter. As before, Orion felt all of the tension in his shoulders ebb off of him, as easily as dirt was washed away in warm water. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, tilting his head a bit so that he could hear her better, as his breathing and heart rate slowed. Even with his eyes closed, he could hear a smile in every word Carewyn sang...even when she likely wasn’t smiling at all, he thought. How could she be smiling, when lines like “sometimes people leave you half-way through the wood” and “people make mistakes -- fathers, mothers” rang with such emotion and pain? Was that pain visible on her face? Orion thought not, given Carewyn’s sense of grace and composure...but he heard it, all the same. He felt it -- her heart, aching with a kind of deep, blazing empathy Orion had never encountered in anyone else before.
When Carewyn came to the end of the song, Orion opened his eyes at last. The Weasleys all clapped, delighted, but he barely heard them as he turned to Carewyn.
“...That was remarkable,” he murmured.
Carewyn smiled. “I’m glad you think I did it justice.”
“Mm,” said Orion. “I’ve...never heard anyone drown like that, before.”
Carewyn couldn’t bite back a laugh. “Perhaps I didn’t do it justice then, if I sounded like I was drowning...”
“You were drowning in the words’ meaning,” corrected Orion. “Enveloping and submerging yourself in them -- allowing them to pull you in and take your breath away.”
He smiled, his black eyes very soft upon Carewyn’s face.
“It was...very moving.”
Molly’s face spread into an indulgent smile as she reached forward and patted Carewyn’s hand. “It was absolutely beautiful, dear.”
“Orion’s right, Carewyn,” agreed Arthur. “Your feelings really came through. I could tell the words mean something to you.”
Carewyn offered a polite smile, even as her eyes drifted away. “...I suppose they do.”
“It sounds like a lullaby, sort of,” mused Ron. “Even if it talks about your mother not being around.”
Ginny tilted her head toward Carewyn, Ron’s words prompting concern.
“...Do you not have a mother, Carewyn?”
The rest of the family went very quiet -- some like Percy shot Ginny warning looks, while others like Molly and Ron couldn’t help but glance at Carewyn in similar concern.
Carewyn’s gaze had drifted off onto the fire. Although she was turned away and her face was stoic, however, Orion could see her eyes rippling like turbulent ocean water, before she closed them solemnly.
“...I had one,” she answered softly at last. “She died when I was twelve.”
“Was she sick?” asked Ron, very hesitantly.
Carewyn bowed her head and gave a single, silent nod. Everyone in the room knew what that meant. The Plague had swept through both Royaume and Florence several times, over the span of the War -- one of the worst years was about nine years ago now...probably the same year Carewyn had lost her mother.
Orion’s black eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon her face. Molly looked like she wanted to envelop Carewyn in the biggest hug and was only holding back the urge because of her husband’s tight, reassuring squeeze to her hand.
“Oh, you poor dear,” she murmured.
Carewyn raised her head at last, her expression once again touched by a small, resilient, pretty smile.
“It’s all right,” she said gently, her eyes only briefly grazing each of the Weasleys’ faces. “I’ll always miss my mother...but I’m getting along all right. And I still have Jacob.”
“Your brother?” asked Percy, and Carewyn nodded.
“He left for War the same day he and I moved in with our grandfather,” Carewyn explained.
“Your brother must be quite a bit older than you, then,” said Orion.
Carewyn glanced at Orion out the side of her eye, smiling slightly. “Nine years older, yes. You know...you actually remind me of him, a bit.”
Orion raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
Carewyn was forced to stifle a giggle behind her hand. “Jacob is also the sort to do things in his own clever way. Only he’s a lot more aggressive than you -- and more talkative, and arrogant, and overprotective...”
“And uglier,” inserted Fred.
“And smellier,” added George.
“With a long crooked nose and ears like a bat’s.”
The younger Weasley siblings were all laughing now. Carewyn had to cover her mouth to stifle her giggling.
“No!” she choked. “I don’t mean it like that! He’s wonderful, really. He’s just...well, an absolute idiot about how to interact with other people. He’s completely brilliant, mind you -- he could give you whole lectures about anything from geography to mathematics to physics...but coming up with spontaneous gifts for no occasion at all, just based on someone’s interests? He’d need some prodding, to do something like that.”
She smiled at Orion, who couldn’t help but grin fully in return.
“It was truly nothing at all, Carewyn,” he said. “With your love of music, it felt like that song would be something you would appreciate.”
Arthur glanced at Orion curiously. “Where is that song from, Orion? I’ve never heard it before.”
“I learned it as a boy,” Orion answered. “I would hear it sung outside the window of the workhouse, sometimes.”
Molly looked very troubled. “Workhouse? Orion dear, you don’t mean to say you grew up in one of those terrible places?”
Orion felt Carewyn’s gaze on him. When he looked back at her, her almond-shaped blue eyes were rippling with concern as well, though much gentler and more empathetic than Molly’s. He tried to offer her a smile.
“Let’s just say the words spoke to me as well, at the time,” he said lightly. “Not just to me, either...all of the boys there, one way or another, were where they were because of other people’s ‘terrible mistakes.’”
Orion’s gaze drifted down to his own hands as he lightly clasped them in his lap.
“...The War doesn’t touch you the same way here, but...the closer you are to Florence...the more the reality of it hits you in the face, every day. Even when you’re not on the battlefield itself -- even when you’re just at the border -- you, and the ones you care for, run the risk of getting caught in the crossfire. And on the border of Florence and Royaume...in those towns where it’s hard to tell where one country starts and another begins...tensions are like gunpowder. One spark from the tiniest match can set it ablaze -- can make everything implode, and force you to start all over again.”
His face was unreadable, but his black eyes were endless, rippling with the recollection of the fire and smoke -- the red and blue colors of Royaume, on the saddles of horses -- the life leaving his mother’s eyes -- his own heavy, terrified hyperventilating...
He closed his eyes and took several very deep, measured breaths before continuing.
“In such a place...one can find people desperate enough to want to lash out at others, to avenge their pain,” said Orion solemnly. “But there was one sweet old woman who owned a flower and herb shop near the workhouse. She’d had to rebuild her establishment several times over the years, and from what I understand, she finally had to leave town not long after I did...but every time she caught wind that the army was coming to town, looking for new recruits...she’d sing the song just loudly enough that we boys could hear it through our window.”
He absently played with the crudely carved circular charm on the cord around his neck in one hand.
“And although there were those who still enlisted afterwards...many others did not.”
Carewyn’s eyes widened.
“‘While we’re seeing our side,’ ” she sang again, more softly, “‘maybe we forgot...they are not alone. No one is alone.’ ”
Orion’s lips spread into a smile as he looked at Carewyn, his black eyes rippling gently as he nodded.
“So it’s against the War, then,” murmured Charlie. He glanced at his parents, who both looked concerned.
“Did that woman with the flower shop give you that?” asked Ginny curiously, indicating the charm around Orion’s neck.
“Yes,” said Orion. “She gave it to me one night when I tried to run away, to soothe my nerves. Its effects wore off by the next morning, but I’ve never really had the heart to throw it out.”
Percy sputtered, looking very pale. “Th-then she was a witch?”
“Whoa,” said Fred and George, looking almost too eager.
“Did she turn all the army into pigs?” asked George.
“Did she lure you in and try to cook you in a soup?” said Fred.
Orion smiled indulgently. “Of course not -- ”
“Well, thank Heavens for that!” said Molly, shooting the twins a very reproachful look. “Magic isn’t something to make fun of, you two -- it’s frankly a wonder you weren’t hurt, dear...”
Orion frowned. “There was no danger, Madam Weasley, I assure you.”
“No danger! Orion,” Molly scolded him indulgently, “I applaud your courage...but nature has its own way of things, and any magic that twists it out of shape is more dangerous than it’s worth.”
To the Weasley family’s surprise, Carewyn actually spoke up.
“Mrs. Weasley, men tend fields, plant seeds, domesticate horses and dogs...treat illnesses and injuries...cut hair and wear makeup and put on heeled shoes to make ourselves appear taller. Would that not also be twisting nature’s intent?”
Molly actually faltered somewhat. “Well, yes, but...that’s very different from magic, Carewyn! Magic is...well, it’s wild. Uncontrollable.”
“It’s untamed chaos,” said Arthur more levelly than his wife. “A kind that’s done a lot more harm than good.”
“But it still can be used for good,” said Carewyn very firmly. “And if it has that potential, why must we treat it as though it and all of its users are inherently reprehensible? If magic can be used to save lives, or heal the sick, or even just calm a scared boy down after something horrible...”
She glanced at Orion out the side of her eye.
“...Then it seems to be like any other weapon or tool, or even any other person -- something that could protect or hurt.”
Orion felt like his heart was being flooded with warmth, and his entire expression melted with pride and something like affection as he stared at Carewyn.
She truly is a woman to be admired. The memory of Skye’s irritation and McNully’s warning rippled over Orion’s mind and he found himself faltering. Admire...yes. Anyone could grow to admire such a woman, couldn’t they? To respect and esteem her...to...grow an attachment, to her... Even I? Could I...?
The Weasleys exchanged uncertain looks amongst themselves.
“Come to think of it,” said Ron thoughtfully, “wasn’t there that old myth about fairy godmothers who grant you wishes?”
Fred brought an arm roughly around his younger brother’s neck and put him in a rough choke hold. “Aww, ickle Ronnie wanting a pwetty new dress?”
“‘Oh fairy godmother, I just gotta have a new dress for the Winter Festival!’” said George in a high-pitched squeal.
“Geroff!” growled Ron, as he pulled free.
“Oh, but that would be fun!” sighed Ginny. “Dancing at the Winter Festival, in the prettiest dress you’ve ever seen...you’re going to the Festival, aren’t you, Carewyn?”
“Probably not, Ginny,” said Carewyn gently, “I’ve got so much work to do...”
“Oh, but you have to!” whined Ginny. “The Festival’s tradition! Right, Orion?”
“So I’ve heard,” Orion said modestly, “but I’m afraid I’ve never attended a Winter Festival either.”
“What?!” said all of the Weasley children except Bill in thoroughly aghast unison.
“It’s the biggest celebration of the entire year -- ”
“Everybody in town will be there -- ”
“ -- well, aside from the noble tarts -- ”
“ -- but hey, who needs them?”
“Everybody makes the best mince pies and hot apple cider -- ”
“There’s dancing and singing and games and gift-giving -- ”
“You just can’t miss it -- ”
Before long, they’d completely gotten off the topic of magic all together, so the Weasleys could tell Orion all about the Winter Festival. Carewyn took the opportunity to start carrying dishes into the kitchen so that she could help Molly clean up. While she did so, Bill pulled her aside.
“Carewyn...can I talk to you? Alone?”
Carewyn blinked, but nonetheless put down the dishes she was carrying and followed Bill off into a secluded corner.
“What’s wrong?” she asked in concern.
Bill bit the inside of his lip, his brown eyes drifting over in the direction of the fireplace where the rest of his family was sitting with Orion.
“Carewyn,” he said slowly, “who is that man, really?”
Carewyn’s eyebrows knit together. Bill ran a hand over the undone collar of his tunic absently.
“He’s hiding something, I know it. And I’m sure you see it too. He dodges questions he doesn’t want to answer, and as much as he’s even told us tonight about himself, he never gives important details. He lived near the border, but he didn’t mention what town he’s from. He lived in a workhouse, presumably after losing his parents, but he never said what he lost them to.”
“Those things might not be easy for him to talk about, Bill,” Carewyn said softly.
“Yes,” said Bill in a bracing voice, “but he also hopped the walls of the palace, completely ignorant of how tight royal security is and why, has enough time to chase after you most every day, and gets paints from people he can’t identify and learns songs from people who, from the sound of things, practice witchcraft.”
Bill crossed his arms. He clearly was trying to be considerate to Carewyn’s feelings, but couldn’t hold back his concerns.
“Look, I...I understand you like the man. And I understand why -- Ginny and the others seem to have taken to him pretty well, too. But there’s no reason for someone to hold back that many secrets, unless they’re up to no good. He could be a cad, or a criminal, or maybe even something worse. Judging by his stance on magic, he could even be a magician himself...”
His brown eyes narrowed slightly upon Carewyn’s face.
“I’m just...worried about you, that’s all,” he said lowly.
Carewyn considered Bill for a long moment. Then, reaching out a hand, she gently took hold of Bill’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“Bill...I understand how you feel. And I’m grateful, truly grateful, for your caring. I hardly deserve it, and it...it means a lot to me.”
Bill frowned deeply, ready to say something, but Carewyn cut him off.
“But believe me when I say that people don’t just keep secrets because they mean to do harm. Sometimes -- for some people -- they’ve had to learn to hide themselves and shield their hearts...so much so that even when they encounter good people, it’s hard for them to let their guard down. Sometimes they’ve known so much pain that, even though they’re kind people, they’ve numbed themselves to a degree, just to protect themselves. Lied so much...that it becomes second-nature. Or worse, lie because they don’t know who they can really trust...because so many people have hurt them that they don’t know what trust even feels like anymore.”
Bill’s expression lost some of its edge, though it still looked wary.
“...And if he is a magic user?”
“Then he’s one of the good ones,” said Carewyn firmly.
Bill still looked a bit unsure. Carewyn squeezed his shoulder a bit more tightly, her eyes resting there instead of on his face.
“Bill, my brother is only alive, thanks to magic.”
Bill was startled.
“The Plague swept through our whole house,” said Carewyn lowly. “First the landlord and his family -- then my mother...and then Jacob. We were living hand-to-mouth, and I didn’t have anyone else to go to...so I went to the Cromwell estate.”
Bill’s brown eyes became a little smaller, darkening with grim understanding.
“...You went to your grandfather.”
Carewyn nodded. “He disowned Mum long ago, but he was still our family, so I thought he might be willing to help us. He agreed to take Jacob and me in and nurse Jacob back to health, so long as we paid back his generosity. Grandfather then tracked down a witch who could cast a spell to save Jacob’s life.”
Bill’s eyebrows furrowed. “Lord Cromwell hired a -- ?”
“Do not repeat this, Bill!” Carewyn said very sharply and urgently. “To anyone, do you understand? No one.”
Her eyes then softened visibly, becoming grimmer and sadder.
“Jacob was dying. There was no other option.”
Bill looked like he was in pain, just hearing this second-hand. He swallowed, and then gave a nod.
“So that witch saved your brother’s life,” he said quietly.
Carewyn nodded, her eyes full of emotion despite the stoicism of her features.
“The spell she cast bound Jacob’s life to Grandfather’s will. Jacob was brought into the house on a stretcher just after dawn, and within a half-hour...he was up on his own two feet again.”
Carewyn closed her eyes. She could still remember Jacob’s blazing, relieved smile as he barreled down the stairs and threw his arms around her, cradling her like a baby.
“My Wyn -- my sweet Wyn -- ”
Not long after that, though...Jacob’s arms were yanked away -- all of him was yanked away -- held back by Blaise and Claire and Pearl’s husbands, who all had work to together just to restrain Jacob as he fought to reach her, screaming and raging like a mad man --
“WYN! NO! GET OFF OF ME -- WYN! I WON’T LET YOU -- CAREWYN!”
Carewyn opened her eyes, the soft longing fading from her face completely and leaving a much more stony expression behind.
Bill himself, however, looked more troubled than ever.
“You said your brother left for War the same day you and he arrived at the Cromwell estate,” he whispered shakily. “Do you mean that, right after saving your brother’s life...Lord Cromwell immediately sent him off to War -- all while knowing how few men return home alive?”
Carewyn’s lips came together tightly.
“Grandfather sent him to the front, so that Jacob could start paying back the debt I owed him,” she said, her voice very soft and oddly distant. “After all...a man who wouldn’t die, so long as he willed it...would make an excellent soldier.”
Bill looked horrified.
“Then...” he whispered, “...then Jacob’s only alive because your grandfather decides whether he lives or dies? You only know your brother’s still alive after so many years at war...because Lord Cromwell is bound to him through magic, and he’s holding his life over your head?”
Carewyn withdrew her hand from Bill’s shoulder and turned away.
“Carewyn...that’s monstrous!” said Bill, and he was unable to keep his voice from rising. “I didn’t even know magic could do something like that -- but -- but that’s nothing, compared to...”
He couldn’t restrain himself. He actually threw an arm around Carewyn and pulled her into a hug from behind. The small ginger-haired woman stiffened like a startled cat.
“Bill?”
Carewyn looked up at him -- were those tears, in his eyes?
“Have you...never told anyone else, about this?” Bill murmured.
Carewyn tried to turn around, her blue eyes welling up with regret and pain. “Bill...”
She brought a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him the way she used to for Jacob.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I -- I didn’t mean to upset you -- I only wanted to explain why I’m not scared of magic...please forgive me.”
Bill closed his eyes to try to hold back both his righteous anger and his tears.
“Forgive you?” he repeated in a choked voice. “For what, trusting me with the truth?”
“For making you worry unnecessarily,” Carewyn said forcefully, trying to ignore how uncomfortably her stomach was squirming.
Bill opened his eyes, looking both flabbergasted and more upset than ever. “Unnecessarily?”
He roughly grabbed both of Carewyn’s shoulders and forced her to look up at him.
“Now you listen here, Carewyn Cromwell,” he said, taking on the sort of tone he only ever used with his younger siblings when they were being rowdy, “you may get to decide if you want to interact with me or not, or rely on me or not, or accept my help or not. But you don’t get to decide whether I worry about you or not. And from here on out...”
Bill’s brown eyes were blazing with resolve.
“...I’m going to worry about you. Because I hate the thought of someone feeling like anybody else worrying about them is somehow a problem.”
Carewyn was left speechless.
Bill’s face broke into a broad smile through his tears. “Until your brother’s back from the War, Carey, I’ll be looking after you for him -- no arguments, no dismissals, no saying you’re fine on your own. Got it?”
Carewyn looked at Bill, perfectly stunned. Then her gaze fell away toward the floor.
“...It sounds like...I really don’t get a choice in the matter, then,” she whispered.
“Nope,” said Bill, grinning broadly.
Carewyn was unable to fight back the weak smile prickling at the sides of her lips, nor the emotion flooding her eyes, even as she kept her face turned away.
“...And I suppose ‘Carey’...is a suggestion of a nickname you plan to give Charlie, for me?”
Bill’s eyes sparkled fondly. “Well, every one of my siblings has a nickname, in case you haven’t noticed.”
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Text
The day we caught the train (Slytherin!Five x Hufflepuff!Reader)
 missvifdor said:  It would be for Five Slytherins with a Hufflepuff reader 🤗 they are very opposite in personality but they complement each other. I love Harry Potter and the umbrella academy, so i'm glad you write about both 😄 thank you,
A/N: this was like kinda vauge so i made up like a story line i guess?? Its kinda a mess and really long?? hope this is ok!! I really like these because i used to be obsessed with HP, in this i imagine Five would be from the really posh part of london where, the reader being opposites to him would be from a northern town and theyre both in sixth year which is age 16-17, i had to do so much research for this lol
Words: 2711
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Footsteps echoed through the long empty halls as curfew rolled around, the sounds of students rushing to get back to their dormitories after a long night of studying and hushed whispering of passwords was not an unfamiliar sound at this time of night. Pictures were left empty as their residents wandered away out of frame and the castle slowly went to sleep, except for the prefects. As the sun went down, the prefects got up to do nightly patrols to make sure no students were up past curfew, each house prefect patrolled their own areas around their relative commonrooms to catch any wrong doers, not that they were many.
Tonight was your turn, patrolling the basement level and the kitchen corridor around the Hufflepuff dorm room, waiting for anything exciting to happen yet you knew it never would. Hufflepuffs always had a strong moral code and a clear right from wrong, every single patrol you carried out during Fifth year when you were appointed prefect you never caught a single person, now part way into sixth year still not once incident had occurred.
Yet, for some reason, every patrol you had ended up with a certain Slytherin prefect following you around, Five. Five was unusual to say the least, he was a well respected and slightly feared student, cunning and determined, he had a close knit clique of fellow pure blood slytherins, yet for some reason out of everyone in the whole of the castle, he had a soft spot for you. Even though he’d never show it in front of others, during the light of the day he’d sneak in side glances and small smiles, especially in the first few years making sure no comments came your way about your muggle parents or your upbringing.
Exactly on queue, a familiar sound of footsteps echoed down the staircase leading to you corridor only to stop short at the last step. A small ‘lumos’ echoed throughout the quiet hallway before Fives head pops into view, checking it was actually you there before a large smile breaking on his face as he walked into view. “Hey.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol?” You smile to him as he got closer, crossing your arms over your chest.
“They know it’s me on, no one would dare try anything.” He smirks knowing he was right, striking fear into everybody, except you. His eyes soften and his tone became gentle when he was speaking with you. He’d always been like that, from your first journey on the Hogwarts express, talking the entire train journey up, secret library meeting when you both realised things weren’t as simple as just being friends. Things got difficult when blood ‘purity’ came into play, when suddenly you couldn’t be friends, which hurt.
The dimly lit hallways excentrated his features, his sharp jaw and high cheekbones cast shadows on his face and neck, yet his dimples still shone through when he smiles and breaks up the harsh exterior that he puts on. Stepping closer, you lifted your hand to run it through his hair, watching his face break out into a smile and wrap his hand around your waist. Small displays of affection weren’t uncommon between the two of you, only increasing through the years of being at Hogwarts. “I’m so glad you stopped gelling your hair back.”
“Don’t remind me.” He rolled his eyes, remembering his poor style choices of his past. You move your hand and run it down the side of his face and across his jaw, taking a second to admire him before dropping your hand.
“I’ve gotta go, my shifts nearly over.” A sad looking smile broke over his face as he slowly lowered his hand from your waist. “I’ll see you tomorrow though.” You say as you lock eyes with him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He repeated back to you. He smiled and started walking towards the stairs, just before his foot touched the first step he turned back to you. “Goodnight, y/n.”
Dueling was always one of the most exciting parts of Hogwarts, it was a welcome break from the immense workload that sixth years had to deal with. In sixth year you were expected to be able to cast non-verbal spells, a mentally challenging task where some were better than others. Over the past month your defence class had been working tirelessly on being able to cast successful non-verbal spells with the promise of having a period where you would be duelling, which was exciting for everyone involved, a chance to show your abilities and represent your house.
“I’m going to be pairing you up today,” Your teacher spoke to you all as he was stood on the dueling table, met with a grumble from the students. “With student of the same ability.” He continued, seemingly unaffected by the disappointed sounds of the sixth years. “When I call you out, both of you will come to the stage.”
Cheers and boo’s echoes throughout the room as students from different houses duled, light flying from wands as students desperately tried to conjure spells without speaking, some pulling through well where others barely being able to produce anything at all. Tension rose throughout the room as more people slowly got paired off, everyone wondering who would be the next pair.
“Y/n and Five.”
Smiling, you walk up to the stage and face Five, seeing a small smile emerge from his stern expression. Wands at the ready, you wait for the call to start from the teacher, already knowing your strategy. The air turned heavy and the room turned quite as everyone was ready to watch the duel, you were both the highest achieving students in the class and people were eager to see who would be the best.
Then it started, Five casting the first spell only to have you deflect it, causing a gasp to echo through the room. You knew it would be a risky move to cast a spell that hadn’t been taught, a spell that wasn’t even in the curriculum. It was the only way you had ever found deflecting a spell without having the spell hit your opponent, Five was stunned for a second before hitting back with another spell, only for you to deflect it again and again and again. Waiting for a hesitation from Five to strike and then you got it, a gap in his relentless spell casting when he took a second too long to think about his next spell. 
Before he could blink, he was thrown to the floor with his wand flying out of his hand as you hit him with expelliarmus. Cheers erupted from students interspersed with nasty comments from the Slytherin students, you walk over to Five who was winded from his fall on the floor. Offering your hand he goes to take it before hesitating, under the watchful eyes of his Slytherin clique he lowered his hand and picked himself up, brushing down his robes. 
“Right!” Your teacher stood up on the stage with you and Five. “Class is dismissed, remember to keep practicing these non-verbal spells.” Your eyes never left Five as your teacher spoke, you felt a stinging sensation wash over your eyes accompanied by a throbbing in your chest at his actions. You shook your head and turned away, unable to keep looking at him without bursting into tears. 
“I need you to stay behind.” He turned to you, giving you a stern look only to soften when he saw you in near tears. Slowly, everyone left the room, either going to the library or commonrooms to await their next lesson due to the early finish. Closing your eyes, you gently tapping the lids with your fingertips to try and ease the stinging feeling, you take a deep breath before re-opening your eyes.
“Am I in trouble?” You say as you sit on the side of the duelling stage, legs swinging as you play with your hands.
“Not exactly,” He sighs, sitting in a chair facing you. “Where did you learn that?”
So you start to explain, lying as you went, as you explained you started to immediately regret even casting the spell in the first place. In fourth year you were spending a late night in the library, trying to find any books to help you excel in your classes, you had piles of books in front of you and then one book you opened had sheets of parchment paper interspersed with the other pages filled with spells that weren’t on the curriculum. It was filled with defence spells, jinxes, curses and more, it had been your guide ever since you found it. This, however, was not what you explained to him, simply saying you were doing some reading and found it and were unable to find the book again.
You could tell he didn’t believe you, but sensed that he wouldn’t delve too far into your story. “You can’t pull anything like that again,” He looked at you for a response so you just nodded. “I won’t go any further with this, you can go.”
The rest of the day went slowly, doing everything in your might to avoid Five, you had been patient with him all these years and him not even wanting to let you pull him up because of his little gang looking at him hurt, it stung. You know he’s loyal to his house but after 6 years of always hiding and sneaking around you just couldn’t bare it anymore, couldn’t bare the fact that Five had let this wizarding class war consume him.
Post day was always fun, hundreds of owls flying into the great hall and dropping off post from friends and family at home, some received letters while others got large packages sent in. Bruce was your barn owl, he was large, brown and robust, he would usually reside on your parents farm, being well loved and looked after by your whole family whilst you were away but always knew when you needed him in the castle.
In he came, swooping down with a letter tied to him and landing elegantly in front of you. Petting him with one hand while the other unties the letter, excited chatter filled the room as most other people were doing the exact same thing, wondering what their loved ones had sent them. Carefully opening the letter, trying not to tear the envelope, your eyes scan over the hand-written letter, smiling at all the information that was written in great detail.
At the very bottom they’d attached a photograph of them all together smiling, along with your dog and a few other animals they all looked after. As you were smiling and showing your friends you felt it get pulled out of your hand; turning around, you were met with one of Fives Slytherin friends waving your photo around, calling on his friends.
“Ere’ give it back.” Getting up, you try and swipe it from his hands only for him to hold it higher, scrunching it as he did.
“What are you going to do about it, mudblood-” Before he could finish his sentence the photo was snatched out of his hand by Five, lightly tapping it with his wand and the photo returned to pristine condition before handing it back to you with a small smile.
“Behave.” Five said to him, pulling him away from your table and back to theirs. A smile snuck onto your face as you sat back down, Five had never done anything like that outside the darkness of the library or the nightly patrols, let alone in front of his friends. 
Then, very slowly, he started to actively integrate himself into your life, talking to you in class, helping each other with homework after classes and even sitting with you at lunch on a regular basis. Building up your trust for him again, building up your friendship publically even with all the snide comments other people gave him, he ignored them all for you.
As winter rolled round, snow dusted the castle and surrounding areas as if it was a cake getting doused in icing sugar about to be presented for a meal. Cold nipped at your noses as you made the trek into Hogsmeade, students rushing to buy last minute presents for loved ones before christmas break as well as a stream of students flocking to the Three Broomsticks to get their last sips of butterbeer before the train journey home.
The Three Broomsticks was so full that students were being turned away, it was bursting at the brim with some students even even sharing chairs. The atmosphere was buzzing with excited students, conversations so loud that you couldn’t even hear yourself think. Five and yourself had been lucky, opting to come to the pub first thing then doing your christmas shopping, finding a small booth hid in the corner.
“So are you excited to go home?” He was wrapped up in a hoodie and jacket, a discarded hat and scarf lying on the table, leaving him with flushed cheeks and tousled hair. 
“I ain’t going home,” You say, taking a sip of butterbeer. “I never have, I’d have to get the muggle train back north, costs around 100 quid each way.” You tap your fingers against the half empty glass. “Canny afford it.” 
“You’ve never gone home for christmas?” Sadness was present in his eyes as he locked them with yours but you just shrugged.
“It’s not that bad, it’s like, my sixth year staying so everyone is just used to me now, I get to phone home and they basically give me access to the kitchen and all the teachers who stay put on interest lessons and such.” A breeze caused you to shiver, wrapping you jacket tighter around you. “I also help with the animals.”
Upon seeing you shiver Five leant over the table to wrap his scarf around your neck before gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear; the small display of public affection causing you to blush. Once you’d finished your drinks you head into town, looking down the alleys for all the little shops you could find, looking for the perfect gifts for your family, asking a slightly unenthusiastic Five for a second opinion and just receiving a series of raised eyebrows or nods of his head. 
Taking your time to walk back to the campus, Fives hand had found its way into yours, swinging your entwined fingers as you went. As the large castle came into view a bittersweet feeling washed over you, knowing that Five and everyone else would be leaving for the holidays tomorrow while you stayed at the castle. Even if the empty hallways felt like home there was always a pang in your chest on christmas morning, even if it did ease off during the day whilst sat round with friends and teachers, it still made your chest throb.
Joy was evident in the great hall, everyone talking loudly and laughing with their friends knowing they won’t be seen for the next two weeks, an exchange of gifts and cards being passed around. Slowly, everyone faded out to the dining hall, getting ready to get on the Hogwarts express home, you passed around hugs and goodbyes as your friends left the common room, all of them leaving cards and parcels by your bed and made you swear not to open them until christmas day. 
All morning you were looking around for Five but were never able to see him and as everyone left for the station you were convinced he had gone. Defeated, you walk through the empty hallways to the great hall for the regular meeting where the staff discuss the rules with the rest of you who had stayed behind. You heard a voice call your name behind you, quickly turning around, you see him. “Five?”
“They needed a male prefect to stay on campus,” He says as he gets closer, grin covering his face. “So I volunteered.” Instead of answering you just throw yourself at him, embracing him in your arms. His arms instantly wrap around your figure, resting his chin on the top of your head.
“Thank you, Five.”
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