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darkreverist · 5 months

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𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒑'𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 / 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝟏

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: *in this first chapter, we are introduced to the main character, celine, and the household dynamic between her and the blackwood staff. is everything as peaceful as it seems?

𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: mature.

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: mentions of blood, death, and panic attacks due to agoraphobia. since this is only the first chapter, the warnings are very light. please continue checking the warnings for later chapters.

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 1850

𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒑'𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝒂/𝒏: this has not been proofread. all grammatical mistakes are my own. by hitting "keep reading," you are consenting to being subjected to potentially triggering themes. 18+ content. minors, dni. viewer discretion is advised. you have been warned.

A light, soft snow had begun to fall from a cloudless, gray sky, carried by a chilled breath of wind. Celine Blackwood stood by a frosted window, silently watching the snowfall flutter beyond the cold glass. Oak branches dusted with frost stirred gently in the wind, lightly tapping against the windowpane as if asking to be let in. From the window, she watched the world below. She watched as a lone, withered oak leaf left its barren branch, falling to the ground with the loose movements of a spring butterfly in flight. She watched as a red-breasted robin flitted about in the branches of winter birches. And she watched as a horse-drawn cart came to a neighing stop just short of the ivy-vined, wrought-iron gate. The carthorses stood, stomping the frozen earth and snorting impatiently. Their breath came out of their nostrils like smoke in the frosty winter air. The Manor’s housekeeper, Silas, stepped from the cart, carrying burlap sacks filled with fruits and vegetables for the week. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow, showing his forearms despite the nipping, frosted breeze. Celine sighed, her breath fogging the cold glass of the window. Silas looked up, then. His eyes quickly find hers, as if he knew she was there watching from behind lace curtains. Embarrassed, she dropped her head and turned so that the shadows of her bedroom hid her face from his gaze.

“Ma’am,” called a soft, Irish-lilted voice. Celine turned away from the window to look at Saoirse, a red-haired, green-eyed girl of sixteen with freckled cheeks. “Breakfast is ready.”

Celine walked along the hallway and down the winding stairs, keeping one hand on the banister, past the drawing room and the door leading into the solarium. She stopped short of the dining room, where the scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the open door, and listened to the hushed voices of Silas and her governess, Elena.

“Otto found two of his sheep dead near the treeline early this morning… gutted and half eaten,” said Silas. “Gutted? What could’ve done that?” “The locals are whispering about a wolf,” he told her.

A wolf? Celine’s heart was thumping in her chest as she listened on. Imagining sharp fangs and glinting eyes.

She heard Elena scoff, “The locals are mistaken. There are no wolves in the countryside. Maybe it was a fox.” Silas hummed, thinking, “Must be a pretty big fox with quite the appetite, then. They were talking about missing chickens and pigs, too.” Elena was silent for a moment as she laid the table, the cutlery tinkling as she moved about. “Fox or wolf,” she started in a low, quiet voice, “I think it’d be best to keep it from Celine. She’s been getting better. Much better. She doesn’t need another reason not to step outside.”

Celine’s body tensed as she heard a chair being pushed back and Silas's heavy footsteps walking toward her hiding place. She pretended to arrive for breakfast when he stepped out into the hallway. Celine smiled at him and tried to breathe as slowly as one did when they hadn’t almost been caught eavesdropping.

He looked at her with a knowing glint in his eyes. Did he know she had been eavesdropping?

“Just the lady I was looking for,” said Silas, leaning against the wall. Studying her. His eyes like brewing storm clouds in the dim light of morning. “Breakfast is ready.”

With a curt nod, she wordlessly thanked him, and quickly scurried into the dining room like a mouse, hiding her trembling hands behind her skirts as she went.

Elena had just finished pouring a cup of tea as Celine entered, bringing in the morning sunlight with her as she pushed the mahogany doors open. Hot, fresh bread, butter, and porridge with cream and peach preserves were laid out before her. Celine sat at the head of the table with her staff around her as they ate. To her left, the last chair sat empty. The silence of that unoccupied space was loud amongst the clinking of spoons and scraping of forks…

After breakfast, snow began to fall again, swirling and pirouetting in dance with the cold wind. Elena went to the window and unlatched the lock, opening it to a rush of cold, wintry air. Celine watched with bated breath as her governess stuck her head out, and took a deep breath.

Please, not today, she thought. Looking out the window, she almost expected to see a great, gray wolf staring back at her, but there was only snowfall.

“It is quite a beautiful morning, my lady. Fancy a short walk?” she asked. The governess didn’t even wait for a reply as she snapped for Saoirse, the young housemaid, to fetch Celine’s coat. She screwed up her face as the girl placed a coat that was rather too big for her over her shoulders. Celine wanted to scream at her governess, then. To slam shut and lock every damned window in the house. She did not want to go outside. There were wolves out there. Ones that slaughtered sheep, and stole chickens and pigs.

Celine’s feet felt heavy, like lead, as she anchored herself at the backdoor. The carved, wooden poppies on the door’s surface suddenly becoming harbingers of impending doom as Elena twisted the crystal knob, pushing it open just a crack.

“Stand up straight,” she said, “Ladies should never slouch. It makes you look like an old crone.” “It’d be impossible for me to look as old as you, Elena,” Celine quipped. The older woman smiled, then.

Waves of pale sunlight began to flood into the house through the open door, like water ready to sink a ship. Celine instinctively moved her feet out of the sun’s grasp, and back into the safety of the shadows. Not quite yet ready to drown. But Elena was determined to make her swim. She pushed open the door, and a sudden crashing wave of cold air billowed out Celine’s coat, stirring her hair in the snow-carried wind.

“Breathe in,” Elena told her.

Breathe in, she took a step. Her boot sank into the soft snow. It was cold, she could feel the breeze swirling around her ankles like a cat.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” she reminded her.

Don’t forget to breathe, another step, and then another, and then another. How many had she taken already?

“Are you counting, my lady?” asked Elena as she gently held onto Celine’s elbow. “It’s 10 more steps before we reach our marker.”

Celine pictured the dragon stone she had painted with Bertram, their previous groundskeeper who had disappeared without a word just before the first snowfall of winter. She pictured the red paint of its scales, the green of the emerald gems, and how its painted folded wings and coiled tail curled as it slept.

One, two, three. The snowfall was soft and light. Celine could feel the snowflakes on her face, melting as they touched her warmth; leaving her cheeks wet, as if a whisper of rain had kissed her.

Four, five, six. She felt as if she was floating now. She imagined herself being whisked into the air. Weightless, like the snowflakes that sprinkled her hair. She imagined her father, then. Tossing her up and into the clouds, just to catch her as she fell back down to earth, just like an angel, he used to tell her.

Seven, eight, nine. Breathe in, breathe out… She faltered for a moment, then. Something had caught her nose in the wind. Something that was a mix of sweetness and decay, like an overripe fruit. Something that smelled of rot, like meat that had been left in the summer sun for too long. She scrunched her nose at the thought.

Breathe in. Celine stopped short of her tenth, and final step. The smell filled her nostrils, the foul, stench of wet rot, the hint of animal musk. Her heart thrummed in her chest. Blood and mold. The smell made her feel ill, it made her stomach turn, and it made her gag. A cold wind blew in from the west, and it woke the settled, sleeping snow, and pulled at her hair.

“One more step, Celine,” Elena’s voice sounded like a mother’s. It was gentle, but not coddling. It carried weight and demanded respect. And despite her age, Celine didn’t dare disobey her governess.

Breathe out. Reluctantly, she obeyed and took her last step. Underfoot, she felt the thinning of fluffy snow to damp, and muddy earth. The ground was slick with hidden ice and roots. Celine opened her eyes, then. She had not realized they had been screwed shut. She blinked away the blinding light against white, and for a moment, she dared not to breathe as her heart stopped in her chest.

Elena had tricked her. She was well past the painted dragon stone.

Instead, she had brought her to a copse of pale, golden beech trees. It was nice under the trees. It was quiet and still, and just as she remembered. Overhead, a fat squirrel jumped from snow-covered branches, and purple finches chirruped from hidden nests.

“Calm as still water, tall as an oak, and unmoving as a mountain,” Elena’s reminder sounded more like a whisper that blew through the beech leaves, as if she had turned into the wind. She froze. She listened; she watched. Celine saw movement from the corner of her eye—a finch. It flapped its wings as it took to the air, flying past her head.

Squirrels chattered. Birds chirruped. The wind blew. And the snow fell cold on her skin. It was everything all at once. And it was too much for Celine.

It was slow, at first. It crept up on her like a shadow, silent, and cold. The soft snow around her turned into a frozen hellscape of jagged, sharp spears of ice. Panic gripped her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Chatter, chatter, chirrup, chirrup. She couldn’t see. Chatter, chatter, chirrup, chirrup. She couldn’t hear anything but the chitter-chatter of the outside world.

“Celine,” she heard Elena’s voice call for her, but she couldn’t respond. She had no voice.

She was crying incoherently now, struggling for breath. Panic was tight around her neck, the lack of air made her dizzy and faint. Her legs went numb as she tried to blindly get away, she kept slipping into deep drifts of snow and tripping over hidden tree roots until her skirts were soaked and muddied.

She could see the manor, and she could see the lace curtains of her bedroom window. She was so close, yet so far. Celine was clumsy with fear and panic as she stumbled and fell over a solid snowdrift, landing with a hard thud.

Buried beneath the snow, a round, frozen shape collapsed in death. Ice had formed in what looked to be human hair, and the faint smell of rot filled her nostrils as she swept away the cold, snow with a trembling hand…

Frozen, dead eyes stared back at her.

She screamed.

It was a head. It was Bertram.

𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒑'𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

#original writing #original works by a #original character #fanfic #fanfiction #wolf in sheep's clothing masterlist #wolf in sheep's clothing

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wisleychalke · 10 months

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Winter Scene

I don't know if I'd quite call this my "Christmas" drawing for the month, its a bit early for that, but I wanted to make a winter-themed drawing still, and fun fact, this was actually drawn on the last page of my current notebook. meaning I've officially completed another notebook just in time for the holidays. I was watching a drawing stream and taking notes, but wanted the last page to have something special. I like how it came out but looking back, I realize it probably would've looked much better if I'd drawn the houses lower since there's honestly way too much empty space here as is. Also, yeah, all that empty space is meant to be snow by the way, but I don't really have any idea how to draw snow, so apologies for the messy sketching I used to fill in the space.

Posted using PostyBirb

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faeryqueenwitch · 5 years

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🧚🎉Fairy Festivals🎉🧚

🎉 Fairy festivals take place at crossover points in the seasons. Equinoxes and solstices are determined by the position of the Sun, but the other four festivals are celebrated when the time feels right, so the dates given below are approximate.

🎉 There are other festivals too,such as Christmas Eve,Christmas Day, and New Year’s Day. Any human festival that touches on old traditions,from Ramadan to a Japanese Flower Festival, is a fairy feast. If you celebrate these festivals and make the effort to tune into what concerns the fairies, you will draw closer to their world. If you celebrate a special meal, remember to leave a little outside afterward for the fairies

1. 🌷 Imbolic - 🌷

February 2 in the Northern Hemisphere/July 31 in the Southern Hemisphere

Imbolc means “in the belly,” and this is the time when life stirs in the belly of the earth. Frost sparkles and the pale light lingers each evening,bringing the message that spring is on the horizon. Imbolc is the delicate crossover point from winter’s depths into the New Year. It is a feast of lightness and brightness,but also a time of cleansing,to make way for the new. The Hag, who is Dark Goddess or Dark Fairy, gives way now to the Maiden, who is young and radiant.

Fairies love neatness and good housekeeping,so it is a good idea to have a late-winter sort-out,in preparation for fresh activity. While the fairies are busy coaxing snowdrops and crocuses out of the winter-hard earth,do something creative of your own,such as knitting,painting,or writing poetry. Ask the fairies to lend you a little of their magic by leaving them an offering,such as a piece of wool or a verse written just for them.

This feast is also called candlemas,sacred to St.Bridget,who was the successor to the pagan goddess Bride (pronounced “Breed”). Bride was the keeper of the sacred flame,which represents eternal life. She is the patroness of poetry,smithcraft,child birth, and healing, and is a very powerful fairy indeed. Invite her into your home by lighting as many candles as you like, in your windows and around your house. Ask her to bless your projects for the coming year,and pledge a special act of caring for the natural world in return,to seal your pact as the year waxes.

2. 🌼 Spring Equinox- 🌼

March 21 in the Northern Hemisphere/September 21 in the Southern Hemisphere

The fairies are very busy at the Spring Equinox,looking after all the flowers that are newly blooming.Scandinavian fairies become active now: the Russian cellar fairy,The Domoviyr,casts off its skin and grows a lighter one for summer; and the Russian Rusalki,or river fairies are glimpsed by lakes swollen with melted snow.

A tree planting project is a very fairy-friendly activity at this time. A seasonal blitz on the garden is also called for. While you are hard at work, digging and pulling away at dead winter twigs, it is easy to go into a kind of trance. This, coupled with the spell of the natural world around you,can create the perfect state of mind to catch a glimpse of fairies.You can be sure they are near you,helping you with their energies.Plant some seeds of your choice and, as you put them in the earth, close your eyes and make a special request for fairy help. Visualize the fairies tending your seeds,giving them their love and care. Ask out loud for the fairies to help you,and sing or hum and you plant. Touch the soft soil with your bare hands and make real contact with the earth.

Place water in a pottery or glass jug (plastic or metal is best avoided) and leave it out in the noon sunshine. Ask the fairies to bless it. Imagine them dancing around it and coming up to touch it with their glimmering fingers. Use the water to give your houseplants a special spring blessing.

The Green Man is a powerful nature spirit that has been sensed by many people. He is represented in numerous churches as the Foliate Mask (a face made up of leaves),and one theory about his presence is that the masons who fabricated him had hidden sympathies with the old nature- worship. He is making his appearance now on some new park benches and monuments. However, you can make contact with the real Green Man out alone walking through the woodland. Ancient and wise,he is watching you. Catch a glimpse of him behind tree trunks or in the lacework of budding branches. Hear his footfalls behind you as you walk. He is the very breath of Nature, and his strength is bursting forth in springtime.

3. 💐 Beltane - 💐

April 30 in the Northern Hemisphere/October 31 in the Southern Hemisphere

Of all the festivals, Beltane is the most flagrantly joyful and sensuous as Nature is bursting forth with beauty and excitement. This was the Celtic beginning of summer, and also marked an important transition for the people of Fairy, for it was the time when the Milesian Celts landed on the shores of south-west Ireland. With this, the last of the magical peoples,the Tuatha de Danann, receded from the the world of humans into the Hollow Hills and became the people of the Sidhe.

However, they and the other fairy folk have not gone very far. You will find them dancing in a bluebell wood or skipping in the sunshine,sheltered by a greening hedge. Beltane is the time when good fairies reign supreme and bad fairies retreat. Fairies are very active now and may try to steal butter,or some of the ritual fire that used to be ignited on hilltops and is still lit by modern pagans.

This is the maypole season, but instead you can always dance around a friendly tree. Link hands with friends, and you may find yourselves spontaneously re-creating the kind of things people used to to do when seeing fairies was commonplace:lingering,walking,and talking, in the open air, away from television,computers,and other modern distractions.

There are many tales of beautiful fairies marrying mortals. Such tales usually end in tragedy, for fairy and human can never truly be joined. Better to borrow some of the fairy enchantment by performing a little magic of your own! Rise early on May Day and wash your face in the dew or simply walk in it. As the rhyme says: “The fairy maid who, the first of May Goes to the fields at break of day, And walk in dew from the hawthorn tree, Will ever handsome be.”

Welsh legend tells how the hero Pwll saw the Lady Rhiannon riding past him at Beltane and, after pursuing her, he eventually won her. Rhiannon is one aspect of the Fairy Queen,riding on her white horse between the worlds. As you sit quietly outside,on a bank in the late spring dusk,listen for the sounds of her horse’s hooves,and open your eyes to the shimmer of her sea-blue cloak. When Rhiannon touches your heart, she will fill it with love and inspiration.

4. 🌹 Midsummer - 🌹

June 22 in the Northern Hemisphere/December 22 in the Southern Hemisphere

This is one of the most magical times of the year, when fairies are very active and visible, playing pranks and even, it is said, stealing away the young and beautiful to join them in the Hollow Hills. The sun is now at the height of its strength and this is an important crossover point,such as the fairies love. For at the Midsummer Solstice the sun stands still, before beginning to recede as we move into the waning half of the year.

Flowers are colorful and luxuriant, and one radiant day seems to merge into another, as late dusk meets early dawn. At no time is the natural world more inviting. Take part in it by going on quests -long walks to sacred spots,evening camping out with the minimum of equipment,to draw close to the mystery that is all around, and to the Fair Folk in particular.

The rose is possibly the most sensuous bloom of all, and at midsummer it is often at its most gorgeous. Roses in the garden are especially likely to attract fairies. Distil water from rose petals and add it to your bath, asking the fairies to lend you some of their enchantment and to help you attract love. Brew tea from rosebuds and drink it,to increase your psychic powers.Plant a rose bush with a friend, to affirm the loving bound between you and invite the fairies into your life.

St.John’s wort is a herb known to break any negative fairy enchantment and drive away depression. Pluck some on Midsummer’s Day and carry it, to keep cheerful.

Look out for water nymphs by streams, or for undines for water elementals on the seashore- or for even the Lady of the Lake herself,rising from the luminous depths.In olden times, these beings were said to have no souls. It is closer to the truth to say that they do not have human morals. Conventions often conceal or feelings, but the beauty of the water fairies opens us to our unconscious tides; see them and let yourself be transformed.

5. 🌾Lammas- 🌾

July 31 in the Northern Hemisphere/February 2 in the Southern Hemisphere

Lammas is “Loaf Mass,” a christian version of a much older festival known as Lughnasadh, or the “Feast of Lugh.” Lugh was a Celtic god,lord of the Tuatha de Danann, and his name means “bright one.” Lughnasadh is a major fairy festival, and many fairies become active during this period,such as the Russian Polevik, who kicks sleepy harvesters awake. It is also a time when fairies move about in preparation for winter,and processions of them may be seen as a line of twinkling lights moving between the hills in the countryside.

At Lammas, the fields are golden with corn and splashed with red poppies. It is hazy,lazy time of holidays and abundance,but there is an underlying theme of death,for the Corn Spirit must be sacrificed in order to reap the harvest. If you walk out into a field of ripe wheat, you may sense the anger of the nature spirits as what is to be taken from the earth,even thought that is a part of the natural cycle of life.Gather up some ears of wheat and tie them into a bunch with red thread,to make a charm for the coming winter to hang over your hearth. At the same time,pledge an act of caring for the earth,such as clearing a derelict site in your neighborhood or garden, or planting and tending a herb, as payment for what you-and all of us- take from it.

At home, bake your own bread, using the rising of the dough as a spell to ensure that everything prospers in your life. While you are kneading the bread dough, say to yourself “As this dough swells, so may my fortunes increase.” Ask for your own personal Brownie, or house fairy, to come and help your bread rise- and remember to leave some breadcrumbs outside afterward,for the fairies.

Some say that Lugh is lord of the waning year, and his dance- through the waving,whispering corn- is a dance of death. If so, it is a reminder that all things come in cycles,and that everything is united in love and beauty. Stand at the edge of a sun-kissed wheat field and see the shimmer and sway that betrays the presence of Lugh. Take a few moments to feel respect for the earth in your heart, and understand the meaning of the Wheel of Life.

6. 🍁 Autumn Equinox (Mabon) - 🍁

September 21 in the Northern Hemisphere/March 21 in the Southern Hemisphere

At the Autumn Equinox, Nature stands poised between light and dark,but darkness is gaining. The veil between this world and the Otherworld is at its thinnest, and all manner of spirit visitations are more frequent now.

The hedgerows are beaded with berries,and mist lingers in the hollows. Sometimes the wind whistles in from nowhere and tosses baring branches. On other says, the mellow sun caresses the fields with slanting fingers. It is a time for reflection, but also for industry. In days gone by, preserves would be made for winter store and the help of the Good Folk would be sought by country people.

Absorb the atmosphere of the season by going blackberrying. In Celtic countries, there may be a taboo on eating blackberries, because these belong especially to fairies. However, as long as you gather them with respect and do not denude the bramble bushes, they will hardly object. Better still,leave out some of your homemade blackberry pie or wine for them,so that they will bless you. When this month ends, leave the blackberries alone and move on. Also look out for a bramble bush that forms an arch-so much the better if it faces east/west, for that mirrors the passage of the sun. Crawl through this three times on a sunny day to be healed of physical ills, especially rheumatism and skin troubles.

At this mysterious time, pay honor to Queen Mab. Her special gift is to bring dreams and visions to birth within us. She is really one of many manifestations of the Goddess, in her autumnal guise of wise-woman and Lady of Magic, and she is linked with ancient ideas of sovereignty- for the king drew his power from the land, and Mab presided.

Preferably at the Full Moon closest to the equinox,place good-quality wine in a stemmed glass or chalice,and take it into the garden or a secluded place.Raise the glass to the Moon,say, “Mab, I honor you”and pour some of the wine onto the earth. Drink a little and say, “Mab, I drink with you,” Then return home,light a bright-green candle beside your bed,gaze at the flame and say, “Mab,give me wisdom,” Place some jasmine or rose oil on your pillow,extinguish the candle-and drift into Fairyland. This is a little ritual that you can repeat during any Full Moon if you wish.

7. 🎃 Samhain - 🎃

October 31 in the Northern Hemisphere/April 30 in the Southern Hemisphere

Samhain means “summer’s end” and is pronounced “sa-wen.” This ancient Celtic festival at the official start of the winter was later Christianized as Halloween- a time when the dead were remembered. There was always a sinister aspect to Samhain,because certain sacrifices had to be made in order to survive the coming cold weather. Animals had to be slaughtered,and some say that human sacrifice took place to propitiate the spirits. Sacrifice,however, is a corruption of nature worship,for life is hard enough as it is and all we have to do is show respect.

Barrow mounds,shrouded in mist,are particularly eerie places at Samhain. Draw close,if you dare,and sit quietly.Do you hear the strange,far-off noise of fairy music,or the sound of knocking? Maybe the mound will open for you and unearthly light will stream over the barren fields.After Samhain,the earth is given over to the powers of darkness and decay.No crops or berries may be harvested after this time,because the Phooka, a malevolent Irish Fairy,blights them. The true meaning here,of course,is that death and decay have a place in the natural order,requiring due honor and respect lest they get out of hand.

Traditionally, this is the start of the story telling season. While the wind whistles around the eaves or the mist comes down outside,gather family or friends around your hearth- preferably with a real fire burning in it. If you do not have an open hearth,substitute a collection of large,burning candles. Sit round and speak of times gone by and people who have passed over to the other side.Ask the Beloved Dead to be present, if you wish(but note that this is not a seance,and the Beloved Dead are invited,not summoned). Laugh,share funny stories,feast,and drink.

Cerridwen is the Underworld Goddess and the Fairy Hag most associated with this time. In her magic cauldron,she stirs a brew that confers inspiration and transformation. Simmer up a hearty soup of root vegetables or pumpkin, to share with friends,then light a black candle and ask Cerridwen to guide you through the darkness into the light. You will be both safe and wise.

8. ❄️ Yule - ❄️

December 22 in the Northern Hemisphere/June 22 in the Southern Hemisphere

Yule is the Midwinter Solstice, when the sun again appears to stand still,as it did at midsummer,but the season is poised for the return of light. Celebrations of Christ’s birth were moved to coincide with the much more ancient solstice.

As you deck your Christmas tree,remember that the evergreen is a powerful symbol of the enduring life in Nature. Of course,is has a fairy on top of it,confirming that it is a festival of the Fair Folk,who also rejoice in the sun’s rebirth. Decorating your tree is an important magical act,for the decorations are fairy charms. Each member of the family should hang at least one special charm of their own,to enable a wish to come true.

Jack Frost is an active fairy in the cold weather,painting windows with intricate lacework. In Russia he is called Father Frost,the soul of winter,covering the trees in ice. Do not shrink from the frost fairy-go out and wonder at his works and he will reward you with hope and joy,just as in Russia Father Frost brings presents for the children on New Year’s Day.

By far the best-known and most powerful fairy at Yule is Father Christmas himself. Today we know him by his robes of red and white, but in the past he also wore green and other colors. As we have seen,red is the color both of life and death, and many fairies wear red caps. The hearty red of Father Christmas is a sign that he is an Otherworld being-very much alive,but not of this earth. He is recognized all over the world, as Kris Kringle in Germany and Pere Noel in France. In Brazil he is Papa Noel,and in China Dun Che Loa. He is the essence of Yuletide mystery,joy and renewal,and like many traditional fairies, he comes in and out via the hearth.

When all is quiet on Christmas Eve, get ready to welcome Father Christmas- light a candle and look at the stars. Pledge a gift for a friend and one for the world, and ask for a special gift to answer your heart’s desire. Write your wish on a piece of paper and “post” it up the chimney if you have an open fire. If not, burn it in the candle flame. Can you hear those sleigh bells?

(Art By: IrenHorrors On Deviantart -Link)

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xo-cuteplosion-xo · 3 years

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Midnight ball | Chuuya x reader |

Midnight Ball | Chuuya x reader | (female reader)

I feel like I'm doing Chuuya dirty with this one-

Warnings- references to some NSFW themes, inferred attempted rape, mentions of drug use.

(really hesitant on actually posting this... nothing happens, but I don't wanna make people too uncomfortable)

Undercover missions were normal in the port mafia. Every once in a while they would come up. You went on a lot of these missions. Even the ones you didn’t care for.

The air was brisk, not too cold, but not a comfortable warmth either. It wasn’t every day you were called in on what should have been your day off. The clouds covered the noon sun, keeping its warmth tucked away. It felt as if it may rain. Maybe snow would fall with how cold the air was. The trees were bare of their leaves and the grass slowly warping to brown. The winter flowers, in full bloom. You shivered tugging the scarf closer as you walked towards the black buildings. Stepping inside was bliss, the air warm and welcoming. You walked slowly towards the elevator stepping inside as it carried you to the level Mori’s office was.

Making your way into the office, your eyes landed on the short male you had become close to. Running a hand through your hair you looked to Mori. “Ya know it’s my day off right? This better be important.” you had guts talking to your boss like this. Elise snickered from the corner of the large room, drawing a picture. Most likely something rather disturbing, as she tended to do.

You hadn’t noticed it before, but Chuuya’s face was contorted in both disgust and anger. Whatever this was, gave him quite displeasure. “He’s having us go undercover. Instead of picking another female… he’s making me wear a fucking dress.” his eyes narrowed in Mori's direction.

“Well, you work well with (y/n). I carefully considered members like Kouyou, but none of them matched what I needed for the minor mission." Mori grinned as Chuuya huffed, crossing his arms.

You tried to imagine him in a dress, but the only thing that you could think of was Kouyou, considering they did both have ginger hair. Shrugging you grabbed Chuuya’s hand, tugging him away. You figured he could brief you on the mission later.

As the sun fell under the horizon, and the moon took its place in night's embrace, the two of you settled inside the limo. Chuuya’s arms were crossed as he tugged on the dress. His eyes set in heavy glares. His hair happened to be up in a neat bun. It had taken a lot of fighting and shouting that could have deafened somebody. He was even dolled up with light specks of makeup. The red dress suited his form, his height made it ideal for heels. He already had a feminine figure, so there wasn’t much you needed to do to pass him as a female. He kept squirming around glaring at you. “How the fuck do girls wear these dreaded things.” he hissed, referring to the corset hidden beneath the silk he wore.

Snickering you shrugged leaning back. “They say beauty is pain,” you hummed, leaning back in your seat. This wasn’t ideal for you either. You much preferred to be slightly dressed down from this. Looking as fancy as you did now wasn’t modest, and it sure wasn’t something you liked to wear. You were sucking it up so why couldn’t Chuuya? Could he really be all that uncomfortable? “I could loosen it a bit.” you offered, but Chuuya shook his head staring at himself. He had mastered heals within a handful of moments so you weren’t worried about him tripping. The real challenge would be flirting with the target.

This was a two-person job due to the size of the party and the security around the target. One of you would distract the guards while the other smooth-talked their way into a private area with the target. They would either get the extent of the information this person had managed to take early this morning or silence him. You two hadn’t decided who would be doing what. It was more one of those whoever gets there first situations. The car pulled up to the entrance just as your thoughts finished. Stepping onto the ground you waited for Chuuya. The clunk of his heels on the pavement were steady and even. You went to remind him about his expression, but he rolled his eyes. “I know, no scowling, glaring, or yelling.”

You smiled gripping the edge of the dress, pulling it up so you could walk the stairs without tripping on the (f/c) fabric. Your hair was down but pinned in specific places. “Don’t forget, no swearing. We have to act ladylike Chu.” clicking his tongue, he pinched the fabric of his dress and walked up after you. Entering the large mansion you were escorted to the ballroom. Standing at the railing that overlooked the floor you smiled. Never in your life had you been to one of these. You truly wanted to participate at least a little.

Chuuya noticed the excited glimmer of your eyes and grabbed your hand. Tonight, you both were trying to pass as two female teenage siblings whose parents wanted a night alone. Without a boyfriend, the two of you showed up alone. A naive action when it came to noble parties. These were incredible to get into. You had to have power and money somewhere. He pulled you down the stairs, flashing you a small smile. He wouldn’t admit but this wasn’t that bad. He didn’t mind the corset or the way the dress flowed in the wind. He minded the hair since he always wore it in one specific style. He’d done this once before with Dazai but doing this with you was different. Probably because he wasn’t being forced to be the fiance this time. “We might as well try to enjoy ourselves.” he was surprisingly skilled at keeping his voice higher in pitch. There were a few occasional slips, but he sounded somewhat feminine.

Smirking you pulled him to the food table. “I’d say you're actually enjoying yourself Chu.” his eyes narrowed for a second before playfully hitting your shoulder.

“Sure I am.” he huffed looking over the table of snacks. He grabbed one of the tea-sandwiches and took small bites. Despite how he tried to enjoy himself, he was focused on the mission. There was still no sign of the target. Two older-looking gentlemen came up to the pair of you, holding their hands out.

“Would you two care for a dance?” Chuuya’s mouth twitched to snarl, but he quickly put on a smile despite how much he wanted to string profanities. You glanced at him, inhaling softly, you tapped his shoulder as if to reassure him.

“Depends~ how old do you think we are?” you two had decided on your roles already. To spare Chuuya some dignity you would try to be the more seductive while he played the part of the shyer, more innocent twin. Since he was a boy playing a girl, he matched the innocent child-like stereotype well, considering he didn’t have breasts.

One of the men standing in front of you chuckled lightly. “Teens, though it’s not like we're hitting on you. We simply wish to take you for a dance. You appear lonely.” Chuuya was sick to his stomach already. The last time he’d done this he didn’t have to deal with these situations because Dazai had been there. Yet, as he looked to you, he tilted his head. Your hand grabbed the man's as you looked back to Chuuya.

“Trust me, it’ll be fun. There aren't any men our age, so trust me.” the act flew softly off your lips. There was a hidden motion when you flicked your ankle. It would have passed as your feet were slightly sore to anybody else. Chuuya glanced to the railing, spotting the target. He nodded, faking a smile as the two of you entered the dance floor.

With every pulse of the music, you got closer and closer to the edge. Your eyes tracing for the amount of guards. Though based on what you were observing you had both already found them. It was a widely known fact your target had a thing for younger females. Not young like Elise but teenagers who appear frail. You and Chuuya most definitely looked the part tonight. Dipping you back your eyes met Chuuya's, a smirk crossing both of your expressions. When you returned to the normal position you switched partners.

Things started going slightly south from there. While you two had managed to keep your dancing rather close to one another, you were starting to drift apart now. Chuuya moved closer to the stairwell, while you made your way towards the back doors. Despite how you tried to move back towards him, your dance partner kept you moving in that direction. Eventually, you noted what was going on. Occasionally these types of missions had unexpected twists. This was one of those twists. You hadn’t thought to watch for other predators. Trying to rip your hands from his you glared. “I ought to get back to my sister.” you wove innocence into your voice, but he paid no mind as if he had not heard you. As the music ended, the rough grip that had succeeded in pulling the two of you apart let go. A silent satisfactory smirk placed over his lips. Walking from you he headed back to find another dancing partner.

Walking around you began to search for Chuuya among the crowd. Innocently asking couples and other women if they had seen a short, rather young-looking female ginger dressed in red. They had shaken their heads but one couple pointed towards the stairs. You curtsied respectfully, racing to the stairs only to be stopped by the two men you had previously been dancing with. Batting your eyelashes you explained somebody had seen your sister walk up these stairs not too long ago.

You couldn’t help but feel worried despite knowing Chuuya could handle himself with the utmost care. He was strong both physically and ability-wise. You bit the inside of your cheek figuring, they probably weren't idiots. If they had separated the two of you they had to think you already knew something was up. You'd probably made that worse when you tried pulling away in the dance. The high-heels were beginning to get rather annoying. They were difficult to run in, jumping would probably result in a twisted ankle if you don't land perfectly. You made sure to blend away into the crowd. Losing their eyes you slipped through doors until you made it into a hallway. Laying out the map of the building in your head you walked the halls trying to find the staircase leading upstairs. You had to dodge behind corners to avoid security. It took you close to ten minutes to finally reach the stairs. There were so many rooms it would be difficult to find which one to enter. You narrowed it down to two in your head. The others would be a waste of time, the two you had narrowed it to were close to the ballroom, small, and were bar areas. Off-limits to party-goers as well. There would be no interruptions to their perverted actions.

You looked around, spotting a guard, you gripped the edge of your glove with your teeth. Walking up as if you were scared you began to stumble purposely over words. “I-i think I’m lost. I needed the ladies room and I couldn't find my sis or the ballroom.” faking tears as you got closer, the security officer's eyes softened as you approached. Taking you as a younger female instead of an adult, he offered out his hand. You gripped it before smirking as your ability activated. Moving your hand away, you tilted your head. “Sleep,” you commanded them. They fell to the floor with a thud. Grabbing the gun from their belt you checked that the safety was on. Assured it was you stashed it in your dress. Walking to the first room you burst inside finding no sign anybody had been there, you closed the door.

Making your way to the next option you pressed an ear to the door. Whispers and the sound of metal sent you to a light panic. Glaring at the door you pulled the gun out and switched the safety off. Entering the room you pointed the gun only to hear clicks follow. Your eyes darted to the sound. “So there were four.” snarling you entered and shut the door with your heel. Your mind began thinking of every way to get away from this situation. You lowered your gun with a defeated sigh. Letting it drop to the floor, one of the guns pressed to your head. Their hand grabbed your wrist as you looked to the mop of passed-out ginger.

“Damn idiot,” you hissed knowing this was probably the result of drugging. There was no way in hell he’d be beaten by mere ability-less scum. Shoved to the floor you glared. Your hands were pulled above you. Looking to the side you snickered at the poor idiot who touched your skin. “Kill your boss,” you commanded and their body dropped you and turned to the person whose hands were on your love interest. When the next guy pointed the gun at you, you swept them off their feet, whistled, and pointed. “Shoot them.” with another fire, two of three were dead. “Now shoot yourself.” and so they ended up three of three. Tossing off the heels you made your way over to Chuuya. Checking his pulse you rolled your eyes.

You lifted him in your arms before leaving the bloody scene. Your dress was now stained with splatters of crimson. Jumping from the window, then to a tree, and down, you placed Chuuya in the limo. Grabbing a bottle of water you opened his mouth and poured it down his throat. He stirred a bit, his head falling on your shoulder. Blushing lightly you found the back of his dress was open and the corset already loosened. “Got there just in time.” you sighed as the limo pulled to your small apartment. Lifting him you carried him inside. Dropping him to the bed you sat on the opposite side of the bed.

It took three hours before his eyes fluttered open. Holding his head, he glanced at you. “Why the fuck are you here?” of course his first words would be aggressive. He could hide it all he wanted by the shiver of his body and the way his hands moved to his back made it clear. Finding the strings and ribbon undone as well as torn his eyes widened for a fraction.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to be separated like that.” you played around with your gloves looking back at him you pulled a thing of makeup wipes from the side table. Tossing it to him, you sighed. “I hope you don’t mind, I had Dazai lock pick your door and get you your usual clothes.” he couldn’t even be mad at you for letting that bastard into his house. His mind was still focused on recollecting what had happened. He was beyond humiliated. He should have seen it coming. “I should have gotten there faster. They shouldn’t have been able to even get that close. I’m so sorry Chuuya! I’ll talk to Mori about not putting you on these types of missions. I know you're mad but please… say something.” you twirled a strand of your hair on your finger.

“I should have been prepared.” he looked away from you before feeling your arms around his body. Your head laid in the crook of his neck as you shook your head violently. He felt something wet soil, the shoulder of his dress. Turning so he could pick your head up, he blinked, startled to see the water dripping from your eyes. “You’re crying?” he sounded baffled, confused even.

“I should have let you be yourself! If I hadn’t pushed you to act like an innocent defenseless child, that situation would have been different.'' Chuuya gripped your shoulders laughing lightly as he shook his head. “You didn’t even have a good time! You hated being there.”

“No, no, (y/n)... I... Fuck!” he was bad at words, so as he tried forming the correct words he kept shaking his head. “I enjoyed spending time with you! I’d prefer to accompany you as a man next time. Neither of us are at fault. Missions go south. Nobody got hurt, sure I feel like an idiot, I’m utterly humiliated that I let my guard down and got drugged up, but nothing happened.” he pressed his forehead against yours, his thumb wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

This was out of character for him, but it was a side only you gotta see. He hated seeing you break down or get upset over things you had no control over. His hands wrapped around your ungloved ones. Your skin touches him with a small shyness. “Can I?” he asked watching you nod as his lips passed over yours.

“We both deserve a break from work. How about we tell Mori we are taking two days off?” you hummed looking into his eyes. He smirked and nodded. His lips pressing back to yours in a heated kiss. You pressed him underneath you with a smirk. His face went red as he glared.

“You’re a fucking pervert.” he hissed watching you snicker.

“Wow Chu, I'm so offended.” you leaned back into a kiss as his cheeks turned a brighter shade of red. “Think this makes us a real couple.” he rolled his eyes as you rolled to lay next to him.

“Yeah, I guess.”

#chuuya #chuuya x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya fluff

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ljsarts · 3 years

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Hades Au: Persephones Descent (AU info under the cut)

[Id: A drawing of Persephone from the Supergiant game Hades. she has blong hair braided with green ribbons and laurel leaves in shades of red to yellow. Her expression is of rage with intense low lighting, she's wearing a tunic, skull pauldrons, a green cloak and has red lava like markings up her arms. The background is a gradient with the text "Hades, where's my son"/end id]

Persephone's descent : An Au

This Au begins with Zagreus living above . He is in turn stolen back to the house of Hades and best mom™ Persephone is incredibly pissed off and ready to kick ass.

Thematically wise this merges the themes of the original game , original lore used in game + the sort of relationship shown in the Bridge production of midsummer night's dream between titania and Oberon. (For Hades and Persephone that is).

Things that remain the same: -

-Orpheus' failed attempt to get Eurydice free.

-Zeus' kidnapping of Persephone.

-Hades and Persephone did in the past truly growing to love each other , enough to have Zag together.

What changes:-

shortly before Zag is born Persephone asks to go back to the surface. She fears a new god's presence appearing in the house of Hades if detected by the Olympians could set off an investigation and then war. She says with Nyx’s help they can hide between the Olympians and the house of Hades alongside the river styx away from prying eyes. She also fears that if he is born in the realm of the dead what that will do to him as a baby , she thinks the only way he can live is to be born on the surface.

Hades is the one truly trapped as he cannot follow where Persephone treads, at first he hates the idea but as the days go by and zags birth approaches he realises it's what's best much to his disgruntlement. He asks Nyx to sneak Persephone out of the house to make her believe it is not his wishes but that she has to go anyway and to not return for all of their sakes.

Zag is born by the Styx he lives a life in the cottage they build there together , every now and then Zag sees a green mist in the distance when a farmer collapses or a elder in the village just off the coast passes away peacefully , the green ghostly figure does not cross the threshold of the cottages walls, does not step into the thriving bountiful gardens only watches . green with envy .

Every now and then Charon visits sparingly bringing news from Hades or Hermes bringing news from the Olympians all seems well in the in-between.

One night Zagreus strays too far from the cottage and it's warm green fields, the green ghostly figure he follows further along the clifftops , past the sea dowsed orange with the sunset to a small clearing covered in snow and pillar after pillar after pillar and before him a door taller than any building he's seen before.

Zagreus disappears that night , the next morning Charon arrives early before Persephone can even wake , she arises to aggressive banging on her front door like a drum , Hermes is there as well with Grave news that Zagreus has arrived in the underworld , he's gone.

Persephone is grief stricken till the duo tell her no hes not dead but he has been taken , stolen by Hades and Persephone is pissed. She gathers whatever she has I'm talking sickle, pitchfork, a tonne of pomegranates , the boons of one speedy lad and whatever Charon can sell her.

Alternatively the boons she gains along the way could be from the cythonic gods excluding Hades whom are wanting to help Persephone.

Persephone gets the help of those she encounters along the way who are posted up to slow her down which is :-

-Cerberus:

Whom she's so angry is being used a s a gaurd dog he's a good boy who doesn't deserve to be stuck at the doorway waiting.

- Achilles and Patroclus In Elysium

Whom Hades has reunited so they can fight together in the arena against Persephone . Once beaten and finding out what Persephone is here for they both agree to help her , they know two well, one person who wants a "demon spawn" out of the underworld who'd be happy to help her get out of Elysium

(This is Asterius and Theseus)

-In Asphodel rather than Eurydice (who's in the house) it's Orpheus who sides with Persephone's Lament at having to leave behind the one person they love the most because of doubt. He tells her about Eurydice and how she now resides in the house of Hades and how he wishes more than anything to be reunited with her , Persephone offers to take him to her .

*Orpheus joined the party*

-In Tartarus we meet Sisyphus who confesses to chatting with Thanatos who was full of remorse for leading Zag into the house of Hades but couldn't go against Hades demands I mean he's his boss and it's not like he killed zag or anything.

- we get to the back door to the house , skelly almost sets off the alarm but with Cerberus stealing skelly jaw bone he can't really make much noise to alert the rest of the house , with the cover of Nyx and the blind eye of Thanatos Persephone almost has Zagreus back when Megeara spots her and alerts Hades .

-Either that or alternatively Orpheus rushes to Eurydice and the commotion alerts the house to them. Meg is watching over Zag trying to keep a distance between themselves / not get overly familiar "it's nothing personal just business"

Other rambles-

Hades kept Eurydice around instead or Orpheus as Orpheus always sings about lost love and heartbreak and separation . Whereas Eurydice sings about finality , Hades often asks her to sing the song she wrote herself "Good Riddance" , he finds it soothes the souls entering Tartarus and his own.

Zags been trapped in the room Hades had made for him before they'd left , and Zag spends the time it takes Persephone to descend into hell learning about the father he never knew he had.

We enter phase two : I will lovingly call

"Custody negotiations ".

-Persephone is here and she's livid and not leaving without her son

-Hades tells her that Olympus was getting too close to their cottage to finding out about their son he had to come back to the house for all their sakes

- Zagreus wants to leave , Persephone wants him to leave to

- they argue ALOT

-zag gets aquanted with Dusa, Hypno and Cerberus

-when Persephone mentions the constant winter minus their grove Hades realises something is wrong and they need to fix it , Persephone demands due court . All the members of the house must come together and decide / figure out how to inform Olympus of Zags existence so that they may go back to the surface without fear or if it's truly fucked atleast stay underground till it's better

#hades spoilers #hades #persephone #hades au #Persephone's descent

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suituuup · 4 years

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pieces - chapter fourteen

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn't expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rating: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

“A bit higher.”

Beca pushed the small mountain-shaped shelf an inch higher, looking over her shoulder as she held it. “Like that?”

Chloe nodded, smiling. “Perfect.” She walked over and handed Beca the drill, watching as she skillfully made a hole into the wall and inserted a dowel. “I didn’t know you were handy with tools.”

Beca snickered. “Basic things only.” She twisted the screw in and hung the shelf, taking a few steps back to observe her work. “That looks cute.”

Chloe glanced around the room, nodding as she absent-mindedly rubbed her belly. She had just reached thirty weeks, and Bean’s arrival was scarily close. The nursery was coming along nicely, the crib having just been delivered today, while the rest was pretty much done.

The closet was full of onesies, tops, pants and a few dresses, swaddles, blankets, and loveys, and the dark oak changing table (matching the yet to be assembled crib) was stocked up with diapers, wipes, bodysuits, and a variety of creams and oils.

Chloe had channeled her stress into reading as much as she could about newborns, what to do and not do, and while she had experience with babies from back when she was a teenager, she was relieved not to be doing this on her own.

“It does,” Chloe agreed, loving the subtle woodland theme she went for and all the love they poured into making this safe place for Bean. “It’s really cozy.”

“Alright, now onto the big project,” Beca said, nodding towards the large package laying on the floor. “You’ll get to see how limited my knowledge of tools really is.”

Chloe laughed and helped take the different parts of the cribs out of the box, then headed into the kitchen to get them some refreshments.

The last six weeks had been really good. The Bellas welcoming her back with open arms had definitely helped with Chloe’s recovery, and her talk with Beca, that promise that she would wait for her to be ready filled Chloe with a renewed sense of self-worth and made her fall in love with Beca a little bit more.

Chloe was now just over six months sober. The nagging for booze and snow sat somewhere at the back of the brain, and she doubted it would ever go away, but she was getting better at not listening to it.

She stifled a laugh at the sight of Beca looking awfully perplexed by the instructions when she walked back into the room. “You good?”

Beca chuckled. “Yeah. Just trying to make sense of this.” She glanced up to Chloe, accepting the glass of homemade lemonade with a smile and setting it beside her.

“They sent us two baby monitors?” Chloe asked as she sat on the floor, noticing the two exact same boxes. They had ordered a bunch of stuff from the same website, and quite a few boxes had come with the crib while Chloe was at her NA meeting, and Beca had put everything in the nursery. “We only ordered one.”

“No, um, I figured one more would be handy,” Beca said as she picked up one of the crib ends and two of the four legs, along with four bolts. “So I hear Bean when she cries at night, too.”

Chloe shook her head. “I can take care of nights. I don’t want your whole sleeping rhythm to be thrown off because of Bean, you’ve got work, too.”

“I know, but I’m concerned the lack of sleep might mess up with your recovery if you handle it on your own. I’ve read some horror stories about some babies waking up every few hours and that for six months.” Her focus shifted from the crib assembling to Chloe. “I meant what I said when I told you you wouldn’t be on your own with this. But I don’t want to overstep either, so I want you to tell me if you need me to back up a little. I promise I won’t be upset.”

Chloe’s heart swelled with more love. She didn’t know why she kept being surprised every time Beca showed her how dedicated to the both of them she was. Still, she felt a little guilty for disrupting Beca’s routine, but she knew Beca was right.

“You’re not overstepping,” Chloe assured her, softly. “And I want you guys to bond, so I think you taking care of her without me might be a great way to do that.”

“Okay,” Beca murmured, smiling as she went back to her task at hand. “The label already knows I’m taking two months off once she’s born, so I’m around to help out. Maybe she’ll sleep through the night by the time I have to head back.”

Chloe chuckled. “We can always dream.” She cleared her throat. “I was also thinking about Bean’s guardians, in case something happens to me, and I’d like for you to be one of them.”

Beca paused mid-screwing in a bolt and met Chloe’s gaze. It was clear she was moved, and it made Chloe smile. “Of course. I’d be honored.”

“Aubrey will be the other guardian, just so you know. So if I die, you’ll be seeing a lot more of her.”

Beca’s nose wrinkled. “Is it too late to backtrack?” She asked with a soft laugh. Chloe knew she was just joking, as she and Aubrey got on really well, now. “I think Aubrey is a great pick. At least I know I won’t have to be the bad cop. But let’s hope she and I never have to be Bean’s guardians. I’m good with just being the cool aunt.”

The crib was easier to put together than they had originally thought. It only took Beca forty-five minutes, and once it was all done, Chloe grabbed the mattress and set it inside.

“It’s just missing one thing,” Beca said, casting Chloe a smile before she left the room, coming back a minute later. “Close your eyes.”

Chloe did so, and it sounded like Beca was fumbling with something by the crib.

“Okay, open them now.”

Chloe let out a soft gasp at the sight of the animal mobile set up above the crib. A fox surrounded by mountains and clouds. “Beca…”

“I wanted to get Bean a gift, and you mentioned an animal mobile, so I had this custom made with a friend of a friend.”

“It’s perfect,” Chloe whispered, blinking back the tears pricking behind her eyes. She was used to crying over the smallest of things by now that she wasn’t embarrassed anymore. Wrapping an arm around Beca’s waist, she leaned her head over her shoulder, basking in the warmth and peace being in close proximity with Beca brought her.

“I think so, too,” Beca murmured, her own arm coming up to wrap around Chloe’s back as she brushed a soft kiss to her forehead.

Summer chilled to fall over the following week. Chloe was thankful for the cooler temperatures, as her body felt like a furnace on its own, she didn’t need any additional heat. Now thirty-one weeks, she had started to waddle, much to Beca’s amusement, it seemed, even if she only claimed to find it adorable. She also got winded after walking up a single flight of stairs and was insanely grateful for the elevator in Beca’s building.

Hanging a left when it reached the right floor, Chloe headed down the hallway, pulling her keys out of her jacket pocket and sliding them into the lock.

“SURPRISE!”

Chloe jolted slightly, her hand shooting up to her chest in shock. Most of the Bellas stood in Beca’s decorated living-room, beaming at her. Above them hung a cute oh baby banner and a table was laid out with various snacks and a cake.

“Oh my gosh, you guys!” She exclaimed as soon as she regained her composure, stepping further inside to hug each one of her friends tightly. “Did you do all this?” She asked when she got to Beca, awe leaking in her tone.

“Aubrey helped,” Beca said, nodding towards the blonde standing to her right.

“Thank you,” Chloe murmured as she pulled away, embracing Aubrey next. It had taken some time for them to find their way back to how they used to be after so many years apart, and Chloe was so grateful Aubrey gave her a second chance. “Love you, Bree.”

“Love you, too.”

The afternoon was filled with fun activities such as onesie decorating, a Name that Tune game with songs that had the word baby in it, and a cupcake decorating contest. Towards the end of the day, Chloe was coaxed into opening the girls’ present, starting with the one Jessica set in her lap.

“This is from all of us,” she said, smiling as Chloe peered into the bag.

She fished the item out, her heart bursting in her chest as she unfolded the blue and gold onesie which bore the Barden Bella B. “Oh… I love it. Thank you.”

The girls definitely spoiled Bean, gifting Chloe with a bunch of adorable onesies, animal stuffies, mittens, swaddles, a bear winter jumpsuit for those freezing days ahead of them, and an expensive-looking electric swing.

“This is too much,” she croaked out once she had unwrapped the large box, shaking her head in disbelief as the girls simply waved her concern off.

“Oh, that’s from your parents,” Beca chimed in as Chloe reached for the second-to-last present.

Tears pooled in her eyes (she had honestly lost track of how many times she’d cried in the last couple of hours) as she took the familiar item out of the bag. “It’s my baby blanket,” she told the girls as she unfolded the mustard blanket her mom had knitted while she was pregnant with her. She traced the name she had picked for her baby girl, which her mom had added in white lettering in a corner. Chloe smiled as she brought it to her nose; it smelled like home.

The last gift was a pampering kit for Chloe, as well as a few items she would need for after labor.

“I learned some stuff about childbirth that I wish I’d never known while looking for items to add to this,” Amy said with a grimace, drawing a giggle from Chloe. “I didn’t know things could tear like that down below.”

Chloe winced along with the rest of the Bellas, her chuckle coming out strained. “Thanks, Amy.”

Beca ordered pizzas for everyone, and the girls stuck around until nine pm, helping to clean up the living-room before they left. Chloe changed into her pajamas and made herself some herbal tea for her and Beca, joining her on the couch.

“You okay?” Beca asked as she took one of the mugs from Chloe.

“Yeah,” Chloe breathed out, curling up on the opposite end of the couch. “Thank you for today. It was so nice to see the girls again. I’m really lucky.”

“You’re welcome, Chlo.” She motioned towards her lap. “C’mon, hand me those feet.”

Chloe giggled, setting her feet on Beca’s thighs and biting back a moan as she started kneading the sole of her right foot. It had become a sort of a ritual these past few weeks, for Beca to give Chloe a foot rub while they chilled on the couch after dinner. “Am I going to lose those privileges once I’m no longer pregnant?” She teased.

Beca smirked. “We’ll see.”

“I heard back from my old vet school, this morning,” Chloe said, following a few minutes of comfortable silence. She had been communicating back and forth with the advisor over there, who finally heard back from the head of the department. “Since I did two years of vet school already, I’d only have to do one more year to become a vet tech. They offered for me to jump into the school year in January, but that feels a little too soon after Bean gets here, so I think I’ll wait until September next year,” she explained as she rubbed her bump. “But I definitely plan on getting a part-time job waitressing or something by next spring, as soon as Bean is old enough go to daycare.”

Finding a good daycare with availability had been a headache, but Chloe had luckily found a spot at the one she had set her eyes on in the neighborhood.

“That’s great news,” Beca mused aloud, smiling. “I’m proud of you.”

“I wouldn’t be where I am without you, Bec,” Chloe murmured, returning her smile. A groan flitted past her lips a second later. “Ugh, I need to pee again.”

Beca chuckled as Chloe heaved herself to her feet and waddled to the bathroom. She had just shut the door behind her when a sharp pain in her lower belly made her double over, her hand shooting out to grip the counter while the other one cradled her bump.

Panic gripped her insides as she slowly straightened when her head stopped spinning, letting go of her stomach to dip her hand past the waistband of her sweatpants. Her fingers met something warm and sticky, and Chloe’s heart lurched to her throat when she pulled them out, eyes zeroing on the blood.

“No, no, no,” she muttered to herself, forcing down the lump forming in her throat with a hard swallow. She called Beca’s name, her voice wavering as tears rose to her eyes.

“What’s wrong??” Beca rushed out as she rounded the corner, the sight before her answering her own question. Her eyes widened, and she paled, freezing for a couple of seconds before setting into motion. “I’m taking you to the ER. I’ll grab your shoes and coat.”

Chloe gave a faint nod even though she wasn’t sure she registered Beca’s words. Her feet seemed rooted to the floor while Beca’s hurried steps faded. She couldn’t move. She kept staring at her bloodied hand as the most dreaded, terrible, gut-wrenching feeling seized her entire being.

“I can’t--” she found herself saying when Beca appeared in her line of vision. The air got stuck in her throat before it could reach her lungs, just as her words died before it reached her tongue. She couldn’t lose her baby. “Bec.”

“I know,” Beca murmured as she helped Chloe slip her jacket on. Her own hands were shaking. She bent down to guide Chloe’s feet into her sneakers, one by one, then grabbed a towel from the cupboard under the sink.

Another cramp made Chloe cry out, and she felt more blood seeping out of her, in a greater amount this time around. She felt it dripping down her legs and choked on a sob, clutching at her stomach.

The elevator ride and walk to the car was a blur, and Chloe found herself blankly staring out the window as Beca rushed to the hospital, hoping with all her might that her baby would be okay.

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #period piece

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wolf-and-bard · 3 years

Text

Drown With Me If You Can

Prompt: White Frost/Apocalypse

Relationships: Arnaghad/Erland of Larvik (from one of the witcher-centric cards)

Rating: M

Content Warnings: swear words, grief, themes of giving up on life and hopelessness at the beginning

Summary: After the fall of Kaer Seren, all that is left for Erland to do in his gloomy cave is write his journal and let the cold take him. He doesn’t expect to be saved, especially not by his former-lover-turned-nemesis Arnaghad. In which: Erland wallows and Arnaghad calls him out on his bullshit. A lot.

Word Count: 5.6k

AO3 link

I close out this account with a warning: the knowledge I hereby hope to preserve is essential for the day the monsters return to our crypts, our battlefields, and our gardens. It is a call to battle and heroism and in that it is treacherous. If you use these pages with the intention to do good in this world, you will soon find yourself to be an outcast among humans. You will save them and they will spit at you. You will beg for fair payment and they will burn you at the stake. Be prepared for that, and take up the sword nonetheless for if you do not, no one will. Peace, brothers and sisters of the future, peace and blessings of the Gods. May you never need this journal.

Erland signs the bottom of the last page with fingers gnarled by the cold, trembling from how his muscles have hardened as a result of his lethargy. When it is done, he grips the quill hard, clings to it. It is a childish instinct that makes him do this, but this feather has been his lifeline for the past… past. A lifeline to the past. Time flakes away from Erland the same way the tattered pieces of the quill do once it breaks under his tightening fingers. The last few pages of his journal are barely legible and he can’t tell whether that is because his vision is fails him, like a pane of glass slowly devoured by a sheen of ice, or because his script has fallen prey to his tremor. As Erland waits for the ink to dry, he uses his weak hand to arrange his good one into the proper gesture for an Igni and casts it down the dark tunnel of his home.

A perfect cone of lightly crackling flames shoots outward, illuminating the glazed rock all around. The sign holds for several breaths, steady and sturdy and its heat singes Erland’s frayed cuffs, has the ceiling drip crystalline melt-off. Erland smiles grimly to himself and shuts the journal. This time can’t take from him and the ice won’t feast on, this his body will always know how to do. A perfect channelling of what Chaos he may access.

Shaking, Erland crawls over to his makeshift bedroll – a dirt-hardened pellet of furs he collected on his way up here, a long hike with Kaer Seren a steady ruin at his back and the names of his brothers and children a steady weight on his shoulders – and collapses on top of it.

It is done. His lips trace the outlines of these words, but his tongue is too heavy to lift. Erland sneezes into his pillow and draws a ratty quilt over himself. It used to be bursting with reds and oranges, a gift from an old woman for saving her granddaughter from an early death by harpy, but now it is faded and as grimy as the rest of him. Erland cannot distinguish the colours of his belongings any longer, not even in the stale light of the last sparks of the Igni that cling to the cave’s walls.

It is done.

His journal is finished, his life chronicled, his school honoured and his knowledge preserved. All that is left to the former griffin master is to wait for the sparks of his life to die out alongside those of his magic. Erland flops onto his belly and uses his weak hand to arrange the fingers of his good one into the shape of Axii. His wrist creaks when he angles the hand at his own face and he casts it with the same impeccable precision. The spell hits instantly and his body goes slack, his mind punctured through by holes. Erland sleeps and hopes a harsh wind will blow through his abode tonight.

II.

There is a long interval of darkness that is marked by bursts of hot and cold shivers that wreck his body, but Erland doesn’t truly wake and by the time he does, he isn’t sure that they were real at all. He goes through a stage of sleep paralysis in which all he can do is to stare at the coarse ceiling of the cave. It has frozen back over and if there were any light, Erland would see his own face reflected in it. Sunken cheeks, eyes reddened from burst capillaries, undercut grown out into shaggy strings of hair. The griffin tattooed on the side of his skull drowns in them, just like the griffin witchers drowned in dust and snow the day their school was buried in an avalanche.

Erland sighs. He cannot move a muscle for half an eternity. His nose itches and another sneeze finally frees him, releases him into an unsettled slumber that pushes him along the maze of corridors that is his own memory. He retraces every step he took along the Path, faces all the monsters he slaughtered and all the humans he failed to convince that he shouldn’t be slaughtered alongside them.

There is no lesson to be learned from these dreams. Only patience. Erland has long lived with his regrets, knows them as intimately as the beasts whose traits he noted down in his journal. Only patience, yes. In all his striving to be more than a mere mercenary or rat-catcher perhaps his most undervalued and least practiced virtue.

Erland can be patient.

He vaguely remembers one who never was, an old friend, a former lover who faced the world with steel first and foremost, steel accompanied by a detached pragmatism that was so at war with everything Erland believed in. That friend – now less than an enemy – would not have lain here so wallowing in the drawn-out pain of his end days. He would not have waited for his death, he would have summoned it by drawing his slowly rusting blades and cutting himself open, would have watched his hot blood hiss against the ice at the heart of this mountain and would have born a proud curl of his lip until the moment the fire in his own heart extinguished.

Erland smiles and his jaw creaks.

He takes the high-road.

He…

He sleeps.

He thrashes.

He recites every lesson the knight Gryphon ever taught him. They are the foundation of his life’s work, they are all he has left.

He is patient.

III.

Erland is caught in a sleep paralysis once more when it enters the mountains. The monsters usually haunt him when he’s somewhere in the realm of insanity, but now he is wide awake, body one rigid line under the quilt that has long since lost its ability to keep out the winter, which means the thing could be very real and out for his blood. Its steps boom and quake through the rock for hours before the giant passes into the dead end that is Erland’s makeshift dwelling. Even with no light to illuminate it, Erland can see it glittering, can see its giant head swing left and right, can hear the scrape of its fragile marble skin against the walls.

An ice elemental.

If Erland is extra lucky, this used to be its lair and he accidentally usurped it. There is no moving away, no putting up a fight and he resigns himself to a quick and violent death after all. How graceful of Destiny to show her face now, after everything else has passed her by.

But then the ice elemental shakes off the snow, hundreds of flakes that rain down to cover the floor, and Erland blinks. The outline of the monster softens from harsh crystals to wet strands of fur that hug broad shoulders. A werewolf? Erland can’t draw breath, doesn’t trust his ears when the thing opens its mouth and speaks, a deep baritone. Not nearly raspy enough to be of anything other than human origin.

"Alzur’s rotten balls, Erland is that you?"

Erland wants to laugh. Of all the demons the depths of his consciousness could have summoned to this cursed place, it had to be Arnaghad. Arnaghad with his hulking form and his smooth voice, his tattered bearskin overcoat and his terrible timing. Always terrible. He can’t laugh, of course, can’t do more than wheeze faintly.

A torch flares up, casting eerily long shadows at the feet of the apparition, more real than anything Erland has thought in a long time. At the same time, Erland catches Arnaghad’s eyes – dark ochre with narrow slits, eyes that are set deeply under bushy eyebrows which underline the blocky shape of Arnaghad’s face as though it was whittled from planks of red birch – and Arnaghad starts.

“It is you,” he says and follows that up with a curse Erland can’t discern, courtesy of Arnaghad’s Gemmeran linguistic oddities that persist to this day. With them comes a harsh edge to all his syllables and a tendency to mouth-breathe. Funny how after decades of reciprocal avoidance, Erland still remembers these details. Casting his mind down the drainage canal of history, he also remembers himself: a young fighter, just two decades of age, stuck in a body that was overflowing with emotions of visionary self-determination, of rough-and-fast passion, of compassionate anger. Erland waits for the spark of that anger to rekindle, especially as he watches Arnaghad toss his swords and pack and drop to his knees by Erland’s pellet, the torch held close. It’s heat licks across Erland’s cheeks and cradles his skull.

It remains the only heat.

His anger is but a relic of a more complicated time.

“By all the gods,” Arnaghad breathes, hand passing over Erland’s sweaty forehead. His touch too feels familiar, feels too familiar, but his scent isn’t and neither is the concern that drenches his tone. “You look like a giant lump of bird shit.”

Erland’s nostrils flare. Slowly, ever so slowly, his lips peel back in a snarl. He still can’t move, no matter how much he tries. He wants the ice elemental back, if only for the simplicity of its puny gravel brain. Arnaghad’s may only be a smidge bigger and more substantial, but with that comes so much. Arguments that have been left unburied, thoughts that have been left unspoken, memories that have been left unfinished.

Erland hisses weakly through his teeth and Arnaghad growls in reply. He doesn’t extinguish the torch, he sticks it into the ground somewhere to Erland’s right and sits back on his heels, the growl building and building. Erland drifts off again, waiting for Arnaghad to speak. He hopes that when he wakes, the phantom will be gone.

IV.

If anything, Arnaghad has solidified by the time Erland opens his eyes again. He sits by Erland’s bedside still, even cross-legged tall enough that his head grazes the ceiling of the cave if he straightens. Before him he stokes a small campfire with several crude bursts of Igni.

“That is a waste of precious firewood,” Erland says, voice croaky. He pushes himself up onto his forearms, head sluggish to lift from the scratchy pillows. Arnaghad doesn’t turn around, instead he retrieves an iron pot from his belongings and presses it against the cave’s wall, using his dagger to scrape off the ice there. Practical, first and foremost, that is exactly how Erland remembers his lover of yore. Lover being a euphemism for something Erland still cannot name.

“I’m hungry,” Arnaghad says and fires another sign. Briefly, the cave explodes with heat and Erland just about stifles a vulgar moan. When did he last have the pleasure of warmth this intense and indulgent? The fire slowly seeps into his blankets and furs and nestles against his skin. He sinks back into them and closes his eyes. “Besides,” the bear witcher continues. “You might have died of hypothermia if I hadn’t started it. It’s almost funny, Erland the righteous asshole letting himself freeze to death, where is the glory in that? Alas, I find it hard to believe that you have developed a sense of humour since last we met.”

“Neither have you.”

“Ha,” Arnaghad says and that’s it for a while. Erland listens to the water boil, to Arnaghad hacking at dried vegetables and jerky. It doesn’t even smell bad and despite his self-imposed fast, Erland’s stomach rumbles and the inside of his mouth feels coated in dirt. How long has it been since last he drank? It didn’t matter until Arnaghad stampeded into his life again, shaking him awake.

Erland sneezes.

Maybe not all of him.

“Bless you,” Arnaghad grumbles. “So, how did you end up here, little birdie? Your wings broken?”

“I’m not little and griffins aren’t birds.”

“Smartass.”

Erland snorts. He isn’t about to stoop down to Arnaghad’s level and start bickering and he has no inclination for small-talk. That’s what he tells himself anyway. A part of him is almost… glad for the company. Glad for this company in particular. Fuck that.

“I will allow you to stay the night,” Erland says, and squints to see Arnaghad raise one of his caterpillar eyebrows at him. It isn’t like either of them can tell day from night, and depending on where Arnaghad entered the tunnel system of the Dragon Mountains, the last time he saw sunlight may have been weeks ago. “Fine, I will allow you to have a rest. After, I want you gone.”

“I don’t care what you want. If it hadn’t been for me you would be a corpse right now. Take a peek.”

Erland follows the gesture of Arnaghad’s hand and glances down himself, gingerly lifts the blanket. He is swathed in thick, padded linens, an extra pair of breeches and woollen-knit socks. The bearskin that usually hugs Arnaghad’s shoulders is draped across him and what is more, his lips do not feel chapped any longer. His hair curls around his head in a long, neat braid, like a viper in slumber. Shit, how long was he out for?

“Have you considered that it might have been my explicit wish to die?”

“I have,” Arnaghad says on a low chuckle. “A ridiculous notion. You’re sick, that is all. Sick people lean towards melodrama.”

“I’m not being melodramatic,” Erland replies and, oh, there it is. Frustration breaking through the hard-packed stratum of the years like a flower through the earth in early spring. It’s fast to burst and blossom. He does try and sit up after all, but before the world can start to spin around him, Arnaghad has roughly pushed him back into the sheets.

“You are always melodramatic,” the bear witcher replies and glowers at him, face cast in darkness by his bulky outline. Erland’s eyes narrow.

“One night,” he says. “And then you’re gone.”

“We’ll see about that. The stew is going to have to cook for a bit, and you should go back to sleep. Want me to Axii you?”

“And have you make minced meat out of my brain? No thank you, I can do that myself,” Erland snaps. He’s being petulant, why is he being so petulant? It’s all these rifts tearing open in his chest, all these holes he abandoned when he left the order with his friends to found the griffin school. These holes pull him back to life and reality, pull him back through time and into a persona he thought he buried. Erland is not a child. Erland is the griffin grandmaster, Erland is a knight, Erland is a witcher. It doesn’t matter that these functions are all theory now, they make up his identity. Not Arnaghad and his quarrels. And yet…

Erland turns away, facing the wall. When he makes the gesture for the Axii, he doesn’t even have to use his hand to arrange the fingers. He didn’t want to live. Now he does. And that’s more than he can take after everything he’s lost. More than he deserves, really. Erland puts very little force behind the sign, letting it spill to the tips of his fingers then gently touching them to his own face and thankfully, the world blots out around him.

Arnaghad’s voice pulls him up again, like the detonation of a bomb.

“Wake up, stew’s ready.”

Before Erland is fully awake, a coughing fit grips his body and although it scratches at the back of his throat, it also feels freeing in a way, loosening the plaque on his bones and the dust in his chest.

“So you’re still a victim of your winter sickness,” Arnaghad laughs. “I wondered.”

“What do you know of it?” Erland’s voice is muffled as he wipes his mouth, the words come out spiteful, acidic. This time, he does have the strength to sit up on his bed, but he needs the sturdy stone wall at his back to keep him upright. It’s a cool antithesis to the slight swelter of the cave’s air, a gracious counter-force to the merrily burning fire and the bubbling stew.

“Erland, you have spent twenty odd winters in my embrace, would you not think some of that has stuck with me?”

“In the face of your betrayal, no, I would not,” Erland says, crossing his arms, though admittedly, Arnaghad is right. Erland has always been susceptible to the cold, more so than any of his fellow witchers. Perhaps that is because Skellige, in the shape of his mother, rejected him when he was young, or perhaps it is because of his father whose origin Erland still doesn’t care to investigate. Either way, when the frost’s first tendrils start to wind their way into the atmosphere, he falls ill with sneezes and shakes, fevers too. It must be winter already then.

“My betrayal, yes,” Arnaghad mutters and retrieves a wooden bowl from his pack into which he shovels some of the stew. It smells prickly and hot, thick with Ofieri spices and has Erland’s mouth water. Now that he is fully himself again, his senses have returned, an assault on his mind. As with any battle he ever fought, Erland decides to be methodical about it. First the food, then the fight. He reaches out for the bowl, but Arnaghad scoffs at his trembling hands. “Don’t think I’ll let your atrophied muscles spill any of this. It’s too damn good, here.” Arnaghad settles into a cross-legged seat before Erland and the fire paints a halo around him. He’s so big that it cowers at his back, which suits Erland fine. This way it is easier to ignore the concentrated, caring expression on the bear witcher’s face as he submerges a wooden spoon, scoops up a chunk of whatever dried meat he put into the stew and gently blows on it before holding it out.

“Why do you care?” Erland asks weakly, lips parting around the spoon. As soon as it hits his tongue – the perfect degree of scolding hot and spicy – he can’t help a small groan. Blunt though Arnaghad may be, his cooking has always been phenomenal. Erland’s stomach mewls for more.

“I always cared.”

“Funny way of showing that.” Erland gives him a pointed look and Arnaghad’s eyes dart along the scar that neatly sections Erland’s face. He has yet to receive even an attempt at apology for it. “Back then you didn’t seem too caring with me. In fact, I acutely remember your sword flaying me.”

“If I’d wanted to kill you, you would have died. But I didn’t want that then and I don’t want it now. I hold to my promises, Erland.”

Accusation is slabbed thickly onto those words and Arnaghad holds out another spoonful of stew which Erland dutifully swallows. It’s not the first time the sickness held him down so hard he had to be fed, but it feels strangely agitating for Arnaghad to be the one to do it. After he left and founded his own school, the only snippets Erland ever heard about the bear witcher were rumours of his death, especially with the vipers splitting off the bear school. Perhaps, Erland liked to believe that Arnaghad was dead because that took away the possibility of whatever was happening now. Perhaps, Erland left the one promise he spent all his life circumventing at Morgraig Castle the day he set out for Kaer Seren. Perhaps, Arnaghad didn’t change at all and neither did Erland.

“Do you even remember?” Arnaghad asks quietly, then allows himself a few gulps of soup before refilling the bowl. He doesn’t meet Erland’s eyes, but Erland can see the faint glow of anguish speckling his cheekbones. Oh, but this is bad. If Arnaghad goes berserk in here, they’ll both be buried in rock and ice and Erland is too awake and vivacious now to want that.

“Remember what?” Erland asks, feigning ignorance as long as that leaves him the proverbial high ground, the only place from which he can match Arnaghad’s sheer height. He accepts another two spoons, then shakes his head. His stomach feels brilliantly full, close to bursting, and he rubs it weakly. Arnaghad puts the bowl to his lips and drinks the rest of the stew. They’ll both want more later, especially with the firewood dwindling, but for now the next field is to be played. It all gets muddled anyway, who is he kidding. Erland sighs and that lets Arnaghad’s gaze snap upwards, latching onto Erland’s. They silently glower at each other for a handful of breaths.

“Of course, you do,” Arnaghad says eventually. “Knowing you, you remember your exact words.”

“I do,” Erland says and the ghost of his own voice flashes through his mind.

My heart lies at the end of a dream, Arnaghad. And as long as that dream remains unfulfilled, I cannot give it to you.

“You lied.”

“I didn’t lie, I never lied,” Erland protests, but Arnaghad shakes his head.

“I don’t understand. You obviously felt something for me, feel something still. Oh, don’t give me that look, I told you I care. I always paid attention to you, you know that.”

Erland does. It pains him to admit it, but he does.

“I didn’t lie,” he repeats, hands balling into fists.

“You threw me scraps of affection when it would have cost you nothing to invite me to your table,” Arnaghad says.

“Do we really have to do this now? I told you I want you gone.”

“I saved your life.”

“UNBIDDEN,” Erland screams and his arm shoots out in an arc. It is only by Arnaghad’s quick reflexes that the Aard doesn’t have him fly into the back wall. Erland heaves, watching Arnaghad’s thick Quen dissolve with a buzzing static, and he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. After everything, he doesn’t want to hurt Arnaghad, of course he doesn’t.

“Why couldn’t you love me?” Arnaghad says, so fucking stubborn in his resolve to have this conversation. What a stupidly vulnerable question.

Back then, Erland bought in to the delusions he liked to paint for himself in blood and gore. He was destined for more, he was a noble knight, he was to rid the world of evil forevermore. Arnaghad didn’t fit in with that dream. He would try and keep Erland from it because he didn’t understand, had no ambitions for himself. And while that was, and likely still is true, it was never the reason Erland didn’t allow anything more than physical between them. But it was the reason he clung to and dangled before Arnaghad’s eyes over and over. After the night of the sundering… it didn’t matter so much anymore and Erland locked the true reason away in a dark corner of his heart, huddled together with the feelings he held hostage in the hopes they would fade to nothing.

Erland listens to his own heartbeat thump at his temples in a nagging ache and he forfeits his answer. Arnaghad doesn’t deserve forgiveness for what he did to Rhys and Erland and whomever else his sword cleaved, but he deserves the truth.

“You really want to know why?” he asks weakly, cringing inwardly at Arnaghad’s curt nod. Erland continues on a sigh, feeling fragile now that his anger evaporated with the sign he just cast. “I was afraid. I ruined my mother’s life by existing and I couldn’t spare Jagoda the experiments Alzur put us through and I never managed to make the humans see us as anything other than aberrations. I can slay monsters and teach others to do the same, but I can’t save the people I love.”

“That is horseshit, just complete and utter horseshit. Your mother was a right old cunt and nothing could have saved Jagoda. All the girls died, remember? Do you blame yourself for their deaths too?”

“My school,” Erland whispers, blinking rapidly to do away with those questions. “I loved them too and now they all lay buried under rubble. My brothers, my sons, my whole life. I loved them and I couldn’t save them. I’m a curse.”

“…why did you never say anything?” Arnaghad reaches out and his thick fingers brush Erland’s scraggly face. Erland stifles a dry sob. Some truths are better left unspoken and this was definitely one of them. He never dared to utter it to himself, in the quiet safety of his own mind, and now Arnaghad knows it. Arnaghad his ex-lover, used-to-be friend, nemesis for some years, phantom of his past for more, saviour of his life. Arnaghad who does, when it comes down to it, have a claim to his heart.

“Because you would have ridiculed me, as you itch to do now.”

“It is true that I was never good at understanding how other people feel,” Arnaghad says and his thumbs come to rests against Erland’s temples, smoothing out the ache there. He shuffles closer and their knees bump together which sends a jolt through Erland’s weakened frame. “But if you would have told me this, I would have found it impossible to demean you. I care, Erland, why won’t you believe that?”

Because you don’t care about anything other than your own survival.

Because it took five years for you to ever look at me twice and double the time for you to answer my frequent knocks on your door.

Because you attacked our brother and cut me and your eyes were filled with pure hatred.

Because you spent decades on your mountain, pretending like that was the only life you ever knew.

Because…

Erland grasps for more reasons, grasps for the steely indifference he felt for Arnaghad ever since the day he left Morgraig for Haern Caduch. He stops. No forgiveness, not yet. But perhaps, in the face of his grief and all that he lost, it would do well to cast his gaze into the future. Erland releases his tense muscles and lets go of something. After, his breath comes easier.

“You would have me believe that your care is rooted in love? Even after all this time?” he asks.

“Yes,” Arnaghad replies. So simple, huh?

“So maybe you love me. That doesn’t change the fact that I would have let you down.” Or Arnaghad him. Or maybe they were fated to let each other down.

“Look, birdie. I don’t know what it means to dream big, but I know this, and I know it for certain: you did what you could and because you’re a persistent shit, you did it exceptionally well. There are forces at work in this world one man alone cannot overcome. You did what you could.”

Erland doesn’t know what to say to that. Because that isn’t simple, that is insightful and attentive and not at all Arnaghad’s usual refrain. Maybe he did change and Erland is the only one who stagnated. He feels stupid, all of a sudden. Stupid for holding himself up to such high standards, stupid for being afraid in the face of his own bravery, stupid for ever calling himself honourable.

What man gives up on love because he assumes himself to be cursed? No knight. A coward.

“Could I have stopped you?” Erland asks. “If I had loved you, could I have stopped you from attacking Rhys and from waging your war on the rest of us witchers? Could I have changed the course of history?”

“You’re doing it again,” Arnaghad replies with a sly smile. He shakes his head and leans over his own legs to press a dry and warm kiss to Erland’s lips. In a way, it’s a homecoming. In a different one, it’s completely novel. Erland tilts his head for a second kiss that has his body thrum with wanting more, and Arnaghad allows it, for a bit. It’s another kind of warmth, that of their bodies re-learning one another and before long, Erland finds himself on Arnaghad’s lap, held close in a way he thought he’d never be held again. It isn’t forgiveness. It’s far from forgiveness. But it’s a start.

VI.

“Erland, there is something I have to tell you,” Arnaghad says long after they have spent the pent-up emotions of the last centuries in drawn-out kisses and frantic clashes of their body. They’re both tucked under the quilt and the bearskin, Erland’s beaten body sheltered in Arnaghad’s mountainous embrace. Erland gives a sated mumble, basking in the magic of the moment for just a heartbeat longer. Of course it couldn’t last, contentedness with Arnaghad is always the eye of the storm. “Listen to me,” Arnaghad continues and a sense of urgency replaces whatever fluttery feelings Erland just had. “I didn’t come to the Dragon Mountains to find you nor had I head of Kaer Seren’s fall. I came here for a reprieve from the storm. Have you seen it before you entered?”

“It will pass,” Erland says, unwilling to match Arnaghad’s frantic cadence. His chest is a warm rumble behind Erland, an upset sky. Damn Arnaghad and his terrible timing. “Winter is always brutal in these parts and the storms bite, but they pass.”

“It’s not winter, we are coming up on Belleteyn.”

Belleteyn… that means it’s almost May. Erland blinks stupidly before the implications sink in. Snow storms in May simply don’t happen.

“By the gods,” he breathes, and grips Arnaghad’s hand which is splayed over his own chest. His body tenses up and the cave feels stuffy now. “How long has the storm been going on for?”

“October,” Arnaghad says warily and that is so much worse than Erland expected. A harbinger of conflict Erland can deal with, an old love he can squabble over, but he is not at all equipped to handle an apocalypse. It has to be the end of the world because October is only a month after Erland entered the mountains and straight-out winter for close to eight months can only mean one thing:

“The White Frost.”

Arnaghad nods, cheek rubbing against Erland’s head. A branch in the fire bursts with a mighty crack right then, as though it is afraid too. The prophesised end of the world. Erland always assumed it was a tale to scare children and he doesn’t believe in foresight. There is no other explanation. Arnaghad’s other hand draws Erland closer and his steady mass of muscles help anchor Erland as the emotional storm resumes alongside the one that rages outside.

“I know this is a lot, but we don’t have much time. Is there anywhere we can go? You are weak still and these peaks will not protect us for long.”

“I… yes. There is a gulf that runs deeply under Kaer Seren, it carries heat out of the earth’s core and disperses some leagues out into the ocean. We have dug our cellars deep enough to tap it for the winter months… we might have food stores left too, but… I don’t know that there is a way in any longer and with a snow storm we might die trying.”

“Better to die trying than to die giving up,” Arnaghad says.

“If this truly is the White Frost, is there any chance of survival?” Erland asks closing his eyes. This is not how he wants to go out, not when he still has so much grieving and loving to do. Not when he just discovered that he can.

“I’ve never been through an apocalypse before, I couldn’t tell you. We got this far, though, so we might as well try.”

“Might as well,” Erland sighs, pulling on Arnghad’s fingers to bite the tip of one of them. The other witcher grunts indignantly. “But I’m not spending the rest of eternity stuck in a damp basement with you if you are going to keep wearing that bearskin. My nose may be clogged up with snot, but I can still smell it and it reeks. Did you piss on it?”

“I didn’t, but you might have with all the feverish thrashing and moaning you did.”

“Fuck off,” Erland snaps and they both laugh. It’s a glimpse of a relationship they barely scratched the surface of back then. If they survive now, they could learn its ins and outs yet.

And if Erland is anything, if he’s ever been anything, it is determined. He is determined to give his long life one last purpose. It’s a selfish purpose, lacking chivalry and heroism, but Arnaghad was right. He did what he could and now he can allow himself this, a shot at love in the middle of the apocalypse. Erland’s had more idealistic and futile dreams.

“What a horrible retirement Destiny has chosen for us,” he says.

“This isn’t worse than being dragged away by an ugly mage and suffering his experiments for years and years.”

“Speak for yourself, big bear, speak for yourself.”

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

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo , @littoraly-art

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Refuge”

Happy Saturday, everyone! Welcome to week two of… fourteen? Is that how many episodes we’ve got this Volume? Man, we’re going to be here for a while.

There’s a ton to unpack in “Refuge,” but as promised I want to delve into the opening first. Given the scattered, symbolic nature of our intro I think it’s easiest to just chuck out observations in list form. I’ll segue back into cohesive recapping in a moment.

So, what have we got?

The glitching between a happy, whole Atlas and the burning wreckage we’re now dealing with. That works well given both Atlas’ tech-focus culture and the ways that tech has led to some of our biggest tragedies (hijacked army, framing Penny, etc.)

Ruby looks scared and is standing behind the rest of her team, separated from them by the title. I’m not really feeling that theme so far though, given Yang’s incredibly weak challenge, Ruby’s immediate forgiveness (during her talk with Penny), and the fact that she’s still working with half the team who vocally support her, particularly Nora. Unless something drastic changes, the idea of Ruby being the outsider here is silly.

We get shots of the girls with their past selves superimposed over their bodies and weapons. I like the message here—they carry those versions of themselves with them—just not how it’s contrasted with Ironwood’s image of an earlier Atlas now burning. So that’s all he is now? Everyone gets to embody their growth except for him? His past is erased to focus solely on our current predicament? I’m not picking up any redemption flags here…

Robyn’s hand reaches down towards Clover’s badge, which then circles to show off the Ace Ops. The final image contrasts an angry Harriet with a defeated Qrow. At least, I hope they’re contrasts. It’s going to read as absurd if they somehow end up working together after Qrow helped get her leader killed.

This morphs into Qrow alone who sits, devastated, until Robyn offers him a hand up and they both smile. I’m not a fan of this symbolism after the prison scene we got this episode. It’s like Qrow might have thought about his choices until Robyn’s anger reminded him that, oh yeah, he can be angry at Ironwood instead. These two teaming up, when their last team-up led to a death, is worrisome to say the least.

We get our horrifying image of Salem looming over Oscar as he clutches his head. The group’s weapons fall. This makes sense given this episode’s kidnapping and the team’s sheer inability to do anything to stop it.

Jaune stands determined—also makes sense with his trend of giving “pep talks”—while Ren and Nora stand apart, facing opposite directions. Nora looks back though.

Paralleling them are Winter and Weiss who also face opposite directions. This is becoming a common visual theme: Harriet and Qrow, Nora and Ren, Winter and Weiss. Here though, Weiss looks determinedly ahead while Winter stares down at her feet, unsure. Ugh, I just know they’re going to have her betray Ironwood too.

We get a brief glimpse of Whitley and Willow, not a whole lot to go on. Then we see Salem turning her chess pieces into grimm—literally changing the game—while Ironwood’s white pieces are turned to dust. I could make a quip about how white is supposed to go first, but the initial move was made thousands of years before Ironwood existed and thus he never stood a chance, certainly not when his own allies are actively working against him… but I won’t lol

Watts is smiling at a terminal while at his back Pietro works at his. More opposites. Pietro’s reflection looks to Penny even as his body continues to work, his heart contrasting his head. Penny, in turn, looks upset as her reflection flinches at something off screen and the glass cracks. Watts hacking her, perhaps?

We see the new teams as a cherry blossom (I think?) floats across the screen. It melts in Ren’s hand while escaping Nora’s. Honestly, I’m not sure what to make of that just yet.

Ruby and Yang share a look—undermining their supposed conflict this volume. Couldn’t we have gotten sister unity over the last three years instead?—and a fight against grimm starts up. It freezes as Cinder walks through it, hopefully implying that the group’s attention is on the wrong threat. While they concern themselves with low-level grimm, Salem and her allies are walking free and wreaking havoc.

Then Cinder screams and clutches her grimm arm as things go up in flames. I hope that’s not a death flag given that we’ve teased her death twice already and we only just got a glimpse at her backstory. Also, I think it’s worth mentioning here that there’s a “Summer is the Hound” theory gaining traction which, frankly, I think is 100% unsubstantiated. It’s a fun crack theory, but not something I’m inclined to take seriously until we get some actual evidence behind it. There is, however, potential evidence for people becoming grimm in general: Salem falling into the pool and Cinder receiving that arm. That’s not much though. So while I’m far from convinced that the Hound was once human—let alone that it was Summer—there is something to the theory that Salem may be able to control Cinder via her arm like she controls other grimm. After all, she knew Cinder was alive despite everyone else thinking she’d perished. They seem to have some sort of connection that hasn’t been explained yet and now that Cinder has willingly walked back into Salem’s clutches, she may not be able to walk out.

There are shots of all our other villains, the Lamp and the Staff reflected in Salem’s eyes, and Jinn’s blue smoke, perhaps suggesting that we’ll see her again, or the entity residing in the Staff (if they exist).

Atlas glitches back to normal—a false victory?—before the ice breaks and Team RWBY falls into the darkness below. Volume 3 vibes all around. There’s light above them emanating from the Staff, but as Ruby reaches for it grimm arms circle and pull her deeper. I hope this means that the group will suffer the defeat we need to keep Salem as a legitimate threat, but we had very similar imagery back in Volume 6 and they made it out of that situation just fine, so.

“Happy Ever After” glitches into “Happy? Never Again.” Which isn’t ominous or anything. We finally end on the classic RWBY image of Crescent Rose buried in the snow underneath the shattered moon.

On the whole I think the opening is strong and I like a lot of the symbolism in it, though I do question how much will actually end up being relevant to the story. My only gripes are that there are too many different styles going on—it feels like three or four different Volume openings slammed together—and the fact that it also feels overly long. I don’t think it’s actually any longer than our Volume 7 opening, but it seems that way to me, perhaps because of those varying styles breaking things up.

So that’s what we’ll be watching for the next twelve weeks! Let’s move onto the actual episode.

We open on the image of Clover’s bloody badge in Qrow hand, the same one we got in the trailer. I theorized last recap that we’d be getting the rest of our trailer/promo material this week and I was almost entirely correct in that. This moment, retrieving the bikes, fighting off the grimm, Watts getting hit, Oscar carried away… all we’re missing are some eye closeups and Nora powering up her hammer. As said, it makes me nervous for what the rest of the Volume holds. I can’t decide whether the footage wasn’t ready to be included in promo materials that early, or if RT is just determined not to give us any information past the first two episodes…

Regardless, this is supposed to be a moment of grief and all I could focus on was Qrow’s hand. Specifically, the lack of detail in it. On the whole, I’ve been very happy with the engine upgrade and I quite like RWBY’s animation now, but a closeup here draws too much attention to how, sometimes, they’re just not animating their characters in a way that looks natural. Where is Qrow’s wrist? Why is his palm perfectly smooth? Stylistically that’s usually fine, but when given the chance to stare at it you realize how odd it looks.

Says the woman whose own drawing skills suck but, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But we’re talking about the important bits in this episode! Out of frame Robyn is heard yelling, “This is your fault. You realize that, don’t you?” We’re meant to think that she’s telling Qrow this, especially with how he’s bent guiltily over the badge, until we cut to reveal Jacques right next to them.

I wish Robyn was saying all that to Qrow. It would mean that she was ignoring her own responsibility in Clover’s death, but at least it would have started an arc where Qrow has to grapple with what he did. Not the awful moment that’s coming up.

Before that though, Jacques claims that he’s the “victim” here who was “duped.” His hands may not be clean, but “at least I’m not a murderer.” Look, I’m not here to absolve Jacques of anything. The guy is an absolute shit stain on the Remnant world. However, he’s right in his overall point even if his words are BS. Meaning, Jacques is not a victim and he is a murderer, but he is not the one responsible for Clover’s death. Robyn has plenty of things to be furious at him for, but this is not one of them. Ironically, here we have Jacques functioning as the kind of villain the show wants Ironwood to be. He is a murderer because the company he runs exploits faunus and forces them to work in dangerous conditions (see: the death of Ilia’s parents). He is culpable because he a) had control over these conditions and b) has full knowledge of their flaws. He’s a racist who cares more about money than lives. His informed choices then led directly to deaths. Ironwood? Not anywhere near the same thing. Overlooking the “Omg Salem is here and I have to do something about it” context, he did not try to arrest Robyn. He did not force Qrow to resist arrest, or Robyn to get involved, or Qrow to break Clover’s aura, or Tyrian to stab him in the chest. Ironwood had no control or knowledge of these events, so he is not responsible for Clover’s death in the way that Jacques is responsible for the faunus’. RWBY is giving the right arc to the wrong character.

Robyn then insists that Qrow didn’t kill anyone. He didn’t strike the blow, but he certainly helped! Look, Qrow is one of my favorites, but I’m not about to claim that he didn’t have a hand in getting his friend killed. I seriously can’t believe the show is ignoring this.

We then segue into some, uh, questionable dialogue choices. Jacques is a “snake with a mustache”? Sorry, I can’t take Robyn seriously at the best of times, but definitely not when she’s tossing out laugh worthy insults like that. Nevertheless, this “snake with a mustache” is guilty because he “helped that man tear us all apart.” That man being Watts.

…why are they all in what amounts to the same cell with barriers dividing them? I suppose we could make the argument that they’re being held in some secret facility, given that they’re in this dark, garage-esque space with no lights and no other prisoners. Some sort of maximum security setup that... doesn’t have any other inmates and no additional security? Hmm. Then again, the power is supposed to be out and I don’t really trust RWBY’s ability to craft consistent backgrounds. I feel like they’re packed together merely because that’s plot convenient, not because it makes any sense in world.

Watts looks pretty comfortable in there though and Jacques is likewise full of confidence. He says that by now Whitley will have already called their lawyers to get him out. Now, non-imprisoned people know that the apocalypse is currently underway, as Joanna will later put it. No one is lawyer-ing at the moment, but it will be crucial to see whether Whitley is trying to get Jacques out despite the chaos. How faithful is he to his abuser? Can Willow start undermining Jacques’ influence now that they’re alone?

Jacque’s confidence thoroughly pisses Robyn off and she screams, punching the barrier between them. Keep this in mind for a second.

A moment later two guards show up to take Watts somewhere and… oh no. Please don’t tell me Ironwood is going to team up with him now that Penny has written him off? I know the guy has (presumably) already killed someone, and he must assume he’s killed Oscar, so we’re definitely in full villain territory despite the stupidity of it… but please don’t start working with Salem’s henchmen too. You know what? I’m not going to assume the worst until I actually see it. RWBY gives me enough nonsense as it is lol.

What I really want to talk about is that hit.

I’m somewhat concerned by a lot of the fandom’s reaction to this moment in comparison to another. Who remembers Volume 6? That scene when Qrow punched Ozpin directly into a tree? Now, I’m not keeping track of who says what when—this is a generalized reaction—but I saw a lot of posts defending that action. There were numerous justifications for the punch, but the three big ones were: 1. These characters are fighters and they’re used to it, 2. These characters have aura so it’s not that bad, and 3. Ozpin totally deserved it. Now, the problems here are that 1a. I don’t think punching someone when they’re crying on their knees is justified, whether they’re a fighter or not, 1b. Qrow was likewise punching Oscar, a totally innocent kid, 2. We had established earlier that Oscar was having trouble remembering to activate his aura and didn’t seem to have it active then (no ripple effect, he’s rubbing his jaw afterwards), and 3. Ozpin’s crimes are, as explored on this blog, not nearly the horrific actions that the story and fandom would like to paint them as. The point is that despite all this, lots and lots of fans said it was totally okay to punch Ozpin&Oscar. What’s the big deal? they asked. Now, lots and lots of fans—mostly when the trailer first dropped—say it’s not okay to punch Watts. Despite the fact that he’s also a fighter. Despite the fact that his aura has broken. Despite the fact that he’s not currently a threat (seated on the bed/Ozpin on his knees). Despite the fact that he’s responsible for helping Salem try to take over the world. If we were to make a case for who deserves to get hit, Watts is a WAY stronger candidate in my opinion, yet he’s the one who a lot of fans are scrambling to defend. Why? I assume it’s because hitting him feeds into the generalized police state/dictator theme Ironwood has been thrown into. It helps villainize Ironwood for fans to go, “Poor Watts. He’s done horrific things but no one deserves to face police brutality.” I agree. The only problem is that a lot of those same fans seem to have gone, “Ozpin can get over it. He deserved to be hit! I would have done a whole lot worse to him…” So is the difference only that one attacker is a military professional and the other is… a huntsmen professional who soon after that scene starts working for the military? Yeah. The show continually ignores that the group aren’t the rogue heroes they pretend to be. They worked under Ironwood for weeks, if not months.

The show isn’t clear about its morals and neither are the fans, with both changing tactics whenever it helps blame the character they already don’t like. When Robyn punches the barrier, do we really think she wouldn’t have hit Jacques if given the chance? Why would it be heroic for her to hit the Evil Man but it’s not okay for the grunt minor character to hit the other Evil Man? These morals don’t change just because you like Robyn and don’t like Ironwood.

Jumping ahead for a moment, we get another example of this hypocrisy with Joanna. A reporter is informing the people that the military seems to have stopped evacuations and there is an unheard number of grimm hanging out overhead, both things that are objective facts. He’s reporting as he should, sticking to what’s known and provable, and thus is, notably, not some lackey of Ironwood’s who is hastily presented as evil. Yet Joanna treats him like he is. She snatches the microphone from him and, when he starts to protest, threatens him with her weapon. After she’s done hijacking the feed, she shoves him on her way out.

Look at how scared this guy is. These are our heroes? This back and forth doesn’t work. Prior to his random killing spree, Ironwood took his fear and frustration out on some furniture, yet the show acted as if he was hurting real people. The mere possibility that he might use violence and intimidation to achieve heroic goals—getting Amity up/escaping Salem—was enough to label him as an antagonist because the understanding was that you can’t act like that no matter what your intentions are. Yet our current heroes can use as much violence and intimidation as they want to achieve their own heroic goal of warning the people? Do we think the story will encourage us to be critical of the group if they start beating up a bunch of Atlas goons to reach the access point? Of course not. And it’s that flip-flopping that’s the problem. Your heroes have to function differently than the villains in order for them to be heroes. Under that logic, our heroes haven’t acted like heroes since mid-Volume 6 and it’s getting harder and harder to watch.

Especially when we take the scene before this into account. Yup, we’ve still got Qrow gunning for Ironwood. Robyn bemoans the fact that they can’t do anything, to which Qrow replies, “We can do something. We can kill the man who put us here.” I… feel like I shouldn’t start repeating myself given how long this recap is—we’ll be here for forever lol—BUT I hope everyone reading this understands precisely how little this makes sense. How god awful a choice it is. I mean c’mon. Robyn attacked Clover unprovoked, Qrow teamed up with Tyrian, he broke Clover’s aura, Tyrian murdered him, Salem is here, and now he’s sitting in a cell with Watts and Jacques… but Ironwood is the guy he wants to kill? REALLY, QROW? THAT’S WHO YOU’RE GOING TO GO AFTER? I really can’t with this show sometimes. RWBY, put your clown makeup on.

We get a cut to Ironwood’s image just so there’s no confusion about who Qrow wants to help kill next and Joanna threatens that reporter who, you know, is also a citizen in need of help and protection… Her “General Ironwood has abandoned you, but we have not” sounds absolutely ridiculous when we just watched her intimidating this guy to get what she wants. ‘You can trust us! Unless we randomly decide we don’t like you.’ I have other things to say about Yang calling out that racist woman later on, but she gets props for helping her regardless. Honestly, I don’t get that sense from the cast very often: that they’d help you even if they don’t agree with you. They certainly didn’t offer that to Ozpin, Ironwood, or the Ace Ops.

There’s a very long shot of a scared toddler staring out the window, just to hammer home how young and innocent Mantle is. Seriously, pay attention to our imagery: Mantle is scared children in homes, cute children fist-bumping Jaune, family photos lost in the street, a stuffed toy run over by hoverbikes. It’s meant to evoke a general sense of domesticity and, again, innocence. Meanwhile, Atlas is only shown via Ironwood and Jacques, the villains. Where are the families living up in the sky? The children? The humanizing details? Our racist woman is an outlier who is quickly silenced by Yang. The rest of Mantle is characterized as victims: scared women, worried fathers, the faunus huddling together in the slums, even another racist who, while an asshole, is supposed to have a point about things like the embargo. Which is all true. These characters are all of these things, it’s just that they’re not unique in this. All this exists above too—from those families, to the faunus slave labor, to the beloved objects that remind you of someone’s worth—but they’re ignored to provide a simplistic look at Atlas as the villain.

Throughout this entire episode the group tosses out snide remarks about how “They” don’t care about you and it’s just… they who? The other thousands of innocents who have nothing to do with Ironwood? The hundreds of Mantle citizens you already evacuated? The redeemable people like Winter and Whitley? The group fights alongside a Schnee who was one of the most vocal racists a year and a half ago, yet writes off the entirety of Atlas as the bad guys. What a mess.

As Joanna’s voiceover finishes, we cut to Yang’s group going after Pietro’s tech. I already covered this scene in our promo material, but to summarize here: horrible tone. Absolutely nonsensical given the situation. Salem is here and Yang is giggling over bikes. In fact, the tone is off for most of the episode (our end being the wonderful exception): Yang’s joy ride, antics with the Mantle citizens, Blake poking fun at Weiss, the tube scene… none of it fits the context of the series’ big bad here to kill everyone. Arguments along the lines of, “But it can’t be doom and gloom all the time” or “This is a brilliant parallel to Volume 3 with happy times heralding tragedy” don’t erase the fact that our cast isn’t taking this threat seriously. Last week Weiss’ “We’re never going to sleep again” moment worked because it’s humor in the context of how bad everything is. All of this? It’s just the group goofing off despite supposedly being in mortal danger. This?

This doesn’t read well. I’d argue this scene is even worse in context due to lines like “The others are definitely missing out.” In our promo material I assumed that the group just split for the sake of splitting and they were, in fact, just missing out on something cool. But we’ve since learned that they split due to a fundamental disagreement about how to help people, a split Ruby compared to Salem’s plans, a split that Yang started! Why is she now acting like their separation is a funny “missing out” moment? It’s like if half your friend group decided to go to the movies while the other half went to a party with an unexpectedly good DJ. The movie-goers are people who are “missing out,” not the group who went off to take over a military base and everyone left angry.

Keep in mind that Ozpin is also back. Every fun times scene with Oscar in it has the added problem of Ozpin hanging back, not saying anything, not acknowledged, still a secret.

The other issue I brought up weeks back was the lack of grimm. Why are the streets deserted? Shouldn’t the army be overrunning the city? Well, turns out that there’s no army because… Salem just hasn’t bothered to send it into the city yet? When Jaune and Ren take out the low-level grimm Oscar asks if they’ve “already pushed this far in,” to which Yang replies, “No, I think those are from last night.” A few minutes later, last night’s grimm change to new non-Salem grimm as Oscar observes, “It’s the negativity. Salem’s forces aren’t moving in, but it’s enough to attract the stragglers.” Later still, Joanna asks, “…grimm are circling out there. What are they waiting for?” GOOD QUESTION. We don’t know, but it’s real convenient, isn’t it? RWBY redeems itself a bit at the end of this episode with that Hound grimm, but I’m still calling it out for having Salem hold off long enough for the group to evacuate pretty much all of Mantle and infiltrate the base. That’s real nice of her. As the characters keep pointing out, it would be a staggeringly different situation if they were overrun with grimm right now, huh? Kind of like the situation Ironwood (rightfully) assumed they’d be dealing with.

Again, I’m so glad our Big Bad is kind enough to let the heroes do everything they need to before lifting a finger to attack them.

RWBY seems to be setting up a, “See! There was always time to evacuate the city!” accusation even though no one could have known that and it makes zero logical sense. Salem brings an army with her so she can not use the army against Atlas? Right…

This all segues directly into our other promo scene. My initial comments still stand: the tone doesn’t work, the lack of urgency doesn’t work (Jaune playing with the kid, Oscar politely knocking on doors), the low-level grimm are not a threat, that shield is useless against anything not driven by plot convenience, and it’s weird for Jaune to be yelling, “Heads up!” when there’s no one in front of him. As said, this moment really doesn’t sit well given everything that’s going on. I had hoped that it would read better when seen in the episode itself, but that’s sadly not the case.

After Ren one-shots the grimm Jaune suggests that they use his amplified semblance to get everyone to the crater safely. Ren seems less than pleased about this, but agrees. Right now, it’s easy to say that he’s in a bad mood because Nora is mad at him, but what about the Volume before? Where’s this underlying tension coming from? I can come up with lots of theories, but at some point the show needs to confirm something. The longer we go not explaining what’s wrong with Ren, the less faith I have that it will make sense when we get it.

We see the racist woman upset that they have to go live with the “animals in the slums” rather than going up to Atlas. As said, I like that Yang helps her despite clearly hating the woman, I also think her criticism holds up well (ignoring the simplified ‘They abandoned you’ narrative). The only thing that bugs me is RWBY continually presenting racism as a problem to throw a band-aid on and then pat yourself on the back for ‘solving.’ Racist drunk says shit? Toss him in the trash! Racist woman says shit? Remind her that her survival depends on you! It’s not that these responses aren’t earned, but that we’re given them instead of an actual arc that tackles the complexities of this issue. I mean, Blake has abandoned the White Fang and we’ve barely mentioned the faunus slave labor in Atlas. When they head to the dust facility it’s conveniently run by bots instead of faunus. Can you imagine if Weiss Schnee walked into a group of exploited minorities, hoping to use them to access a military base? But of course, there’s nothing like that. RWBY ignores the actual issues for these simple solutions. Heroes just attack/threaten racists and then it all goes away. Yay.

The other problem with this scene is that we learn the crater is the slums. Um… what? Hold on, Joanna made it sound like it’s a separate place, potentially inhabited by grimm, yet it’s the same area Oscar was in last episode? How is that area warmer? This makes no sense to me.

Also, ha, the crater below Atlas apparently houses all the “animals” that Team RWBYJNR is very protective of. I’m waiting for them to do something that messes with the Staff—Ruby reaching for it in the opening—Atlas crashes down on a whole city of exploited minorities, and then Ironwood is blamed for it somehow. Can’t wait for that episode.

So the group starts making their way there and hark! An Ozpin! I’m always thrilled to hear him, even if he’s treated just terribly by the show. Oscar is at the back of the group and comments that “It should not be this hard just getting people to cooperate.” Except… they are cooperating? Oscar, you are watching them cooperate right in front of you. That one woman might grumble a bit, but she hasn’t made a move or said a word about not doing what you say. Where did this complaint come from? Another example of RWBY insisting something is there when it simply isn’t. More importantly, Ozpin responds:

“And yet, it’s becoming something I’m increasingly concerned about.”

“You know, I really don’t need your additional comments right now.”

Then why did you comment out loud, Oscar? What, do you normally talk to yourself like that? You were clearly speaking to Ozpin! Don’t criticize him for responding. I hate traps like that.

Ozpin immediately says that Oscar has every right to be upset and apologizes for leaving… it’s not apologizing for his entire existence like I wrote on the bingo board, but it’s close. Who’s surprised that Ozpin is the first to offer (another) apology? Not me. Oscar corrects him with, “I’m upset you came back!”

Okay. Here’s the thing. I like the idea of Oscar rejecting Ozpin both because he’s taken over his life and because Oscar has suffered horribly due to Ozpin’s presence (punched, slammed into walls, kidnapping attempts, etc.) That makes sense, it’s actually morally complex, and it’s great groundwork for character growth. The only problem is… this came out of nowhere. Oscar was shown accepting this new life when he left the farm. Then again when he insisted on fighting Hazel. Then again all the times he’s been told he’s acting like Ozpin and seems to accept that just fine. He’s clearly pleased with this new badass self he’s got going on—he even says as much—yet doesn’t want to acknowledge Ozpin as the catalyst for all this positive change. Okay, that’s something we could still work through, but what about the group? Fans are already theorizing that this is why Oscar is keeping Ozpin a secret, because he’s scared of how the group will react, punishing him to get at Ozpin again, and though he 100% has reasons for thinking that will happen, Oscar hasn’t shown that fear before now. Qrow punches him? Bonding moment with Ruby. Jaune attacks him? I made you all dinner. They all smile over his inevitable death/disappearance? He smiles back. Yang is the most scream-y? Happy to have her using him as an armrest. The group continually ignores him and treats him with suspicion? Not a peep of protest. It’s horrifying that Oscar accepted how the group previously treated him, but he did accept it. Where did this fear come from if we haven’t seen it in response to the harm done towards him? Just as importantly, can’t we have an arc where Oscar is mad at the team some too? I’ll admit that the general premise of blaming Ozpin makes sense for the traumatized fourteen-year old, but after two years of blaming Ozpin for everything… aren’t we sick of this? His team has actively hurt him, outside of Ozpin’s ability to prevent, yet Ozpin is the one who takes all the heat for their behavior. “I felt like I was actually part of the team” should lead to the realization of, “Hey, Yang shouldn’t yell at both of us for things outside of our control” not, “Hey, you should stay away forever because others have decided they don’t like you.”

All of this following Ozpin saving Oscar’s life in the airship. Then saving his life again after Ironwood shot him. Our heroes are real grateful, huh. I hate that RWBY is taking another fave and doing them dirty, though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.

Ozpin also mentions his magic—would be nice if Oscar brought that up with the team!—and that he is now “recollecting my longest held memories.” He…is? When? Don’t you think that’s something important to show us? We keep being told that “the merge” is occurring but not shown what that actually means. Seriously, when did Oscar get slammed with that many memories??

Please just use the aura machine and give Ozpin a robot body. RT doesn’t have the chops for writing this situation.

As they continue on towards the crater Ren snaps at Jaune about not needing a “pep talk.” Jaune looks annoyed at the attitude which, fair. It says a lot about the writing the last few years that Jaune is the character I’m least frustrated with lol. Likely because they haven’t had him do anything lately which, given that he’s not one of the title characters and our cast is bloated enough as it is, I’m still totally fine with.

Ozpin concludes the scene with, “We need to find a way to work together. Not just the two of us, all of us” with the camera panning up to look at Atlas. I’m glad someone isn’t ready to throw Ironwood under the bus. Given how the group reacted to him sparing Lionheart’s name though, I don’t think they’ll follow Ozpin in his forgiveness. If anything, I expect this perspective to just be more hate fuel.

We move to Ruby’s group which now includes May. Woohoo! She still hasn’t gotten half the screen time as Joanna, but I’m really glad she’s here. In fact, between a useful semblance and that adorable courtesy, I love her already. Despite, you know, helping the team break into the base and all that. Everyone has their flaws lol.

She also frames the Amity plan as getting the world “talking again.” Why is everything presented like a fun romp rather than avoiding death via Salem? Absolutely terrible tone this episode.

The group hilariously waltzes past a sign labeled AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY and enters the dust facility with the bots I mentioned earlier. This I do like. My hypothetical scenario incorporating the racism issue aside, I like that Weiss is using her knowledge and connections to further the mission, rather than something conveniently dropping into the group’s lap. Like Amity suddenly being ready for launch…So yeah, it makes sense that Weiss would know of a potential way in.

Sending someone up through the tubes though? Ehhh… I know they have aura and everything—and that Zwei was once mailed—but are we sure this is safe?? Doesn’t matter because Nora sends Weiss through with a misplaced button press. Good thing that was the tube heading to the base. Too bad Weiss is heading to a guarded military base alone. It should have been May going first with her semblance activated, but no. Chuck this onto the ever increasing ‘Bad Tone’ pile. There should not be giggles over Weiss being in that level of danger, especially with everything else going on. Ruby’s expression is the only one on point.

Before Weiss is yeeted off though, Penny and Ruby have a talk wherein Ruby lies her ass off. Penny says, “I do not like it when friends fight” and when Ruby starts talking about Yang she corrects her, revealing that she’s actually thinking about Winter and Ironwood. “They were our friends.”

I was ready to sing Penny’s praises and really, she still gets credit for being the only one who has acknowledged this, but her opinion is (once again) overridden by Ruby’s. Penny goes, “but then the Ace Ops attacked you” which Ruby doesn’t bother to correct. How would Penny know otherwise? The only information she has about that battle is what Ruby has told her, but Ruby is lying via omission here. The Ace Ops never attacked her. They very explicitly refused to start a fight. Ruby attacked them. Then when Penny is upset that Ironwood said “people were going to die because of me,” Ruby takes her by the shoulders and angrily insists, “That was a lie and he was only saying it to hurt you.”

Ruby… you’re the one lying. You know damn well Ironwood didn’t just say that to hurt Penny. Oh yeah, the general trying to keep a kingdom alive from an immortal witch is preoccupied with hurting Penny’s feelings for no reason other than being evil. That makes sense. More importantly, Ironwood is right. Look, I’m by no means blaming Penny for anything. She fought off Cinder, took the power when there was no other choice, and has now gotten caught up in Ruby’s plans which include incredibly misleading information that Penny has no reason to question. She’s doing her best and deserves that hug. But that doesn’t mean she lacks responsibility here. Ironwood needs Penny to evacuate. Penny—listening to Ruby—won’t help him. Ergo, if something happens to the people up in Atlas Penny will be partly responsible. If I have the key to a door with lots of people trapped behind it as a fire rages, and I refuse to open that door, I have indeed allowed a lot of people to die. As Penny says, she didn’t want this responsibility… but she has it. She has to deal with it. Too bad she’s with Ruby who encourages her to ignore it instead, insisting that nothing bad that happens after their choices could in any way be connected to them. Kind of like Qrow ignoring his own actions against Clover.

Because that’s the takeaway from this scene. Penny had empathy for their friends and then Ruby talked her out of it. She never even acknowledges that those were indeed seven friends that she betrayed. That’s horrible.

What happened to Ruby? I used to love this girl.

Continuing our tone issue, Nora is watching this show like her favorite soap is on. Okay then.

Weiss goes up the tube and then we cut to Fiona saying that… the Mantle police are helping them evacuate? So the military is bad, but the police are good? I need to stop trying to make sense of RWBY’s allegory.

When Yang and the others return Fiona makes an innocent comment about being worried about how they’d fare without the rest of their team. Yang is pissed.

Ah, so we’re back to her giving allies attitude for random observations. Remember the anger at Marrow for suggesting she and Blake try different team-ups? Now here Yang is, in a different team-up, doing quite well. Funny how we never acknowledge who first suggested that. Now, Fiona reveals a totally logical worry that losing four fighters might make a difference when fending off grimm, but Yang is poised to be angry at everyone, about everything, all the time. Which I get is something that a lot of fans like. I’ve already seen a couple of posts praising RT for letting Robyn and Yang be angry without consequences because women often can’t do that and, fair. That is indeed one way to read it. My problem is that their anger is actually irrational, not just called as much because we women are ~emotional~. Their anger isn’t justified: Robyn because she had a significant hand in all this nonsense (that she’s ignoring) and Yang because it’s clear Fiona means no harm here. This is anger that needs to be called out, not ignored because yay women expressing emotion. That kind of defense is reserved for a woman’s justified anger that needs to be expressed without criticism, especially in a narrative that tries to undermine her perspective. But what has Fiona done to Yang? Nothing. More importantly, the show has yet to teach Yang a better coping mechanism than lashing out at people, be it with her fists, words, or angry glares. Yang has been through the ringer and it makes sense that she’s angry, but that doesn’t mean she gets a lifelong pass to treat those around her badly.

Anyway, Joanna says they have a lot of people to keep warm even though the crater was supposed to be warmer? And they’re stealing dust? So what are they using it for it not heat? We’re not seeing any difference here and frankly all the civilians should be dead by now. Or at least entering hypothermia. (Give me that conflict: how do you keep people safe when they’re not all conveniently up for walking all the way to the slums?) Joanna also says that they’re trying to get the “Old mine shafts into a livable condition” which would take how long exactly? In fact, I’d say our timeline is already wonky. We’ve watched Yang hide the Ace Ops last Volume, fly to Winter and Penny, find the Happy Huntresses, wait around for Oscar to show up, ran off on her own at some point to scout, went to get bikes, evacuated all those people to the (far away) slums, then went back out to fight off the grimm. That had to have taken up a good chunk of the night, though it’s impossible to tell the time with Atlas’ snowy sky. I’m leaning towards a bingo mark though…

The faunus who I thought was a badger or something is… a bear I guess? He has a bear-like paw, but his nails seem too long… I honestly don’t know. But he’s Fiona’s uncle! Cute. She's off to deal with a fight that’s starting while the group goes to fight more grimm. Finally, the episode gets good.

The teamwork to take out the dragon grimm was nice, always glad to see it, but the real fight starts when two more grunts show up and then immediately run away. What could have scared them off?

The Hound. (I’m sorry, all I can think of is Game of Thrones when I write that, but it seems to be the name the fandom is adopting, so…) Remember how I said it was unlikely to be a threat on its own? I WAS WRONG. Holy shit this thing is terrifying. It snatches Oscar and in some wonderfully quick animation absolutely obliterates the kid. Oscar is thrown around like a chew toy, desperately trying to rabbit kick at this thing and it does [checks notes] absolutely nothing. I’d normally say something about our farm boy always getting the shit kicked out of him, but this scene was too good for my salt.

Then it changes shape, growing arms, and starts using Oscar as a shield. Yang can’t pull back in time and is snagged by her head, the Hound tossing her into the wall hard enough to break the stone. She’s still conscious though and warns the others about its strategy.

“But grimm aren’t that smart,” Jaune says. Maybe if you kids (Fiona keeps calling them kids) had stayed in school you would have learned that grimm get smarter with age! Oobleck knew that. Or, just as likely, this is a special Salem grimm. Hard to say at this point.

The point though is that the group is helpless in the face of this monster. I do want to emphasize this. I’ve seen a few people criticizing them for not doing enough to save Oscar and it’s like, what did you want them to do? Yang tried to attack and the grimm nearly had her hitting Oscar instead. Ren tried to attack and the grimm changed so fast his weapon was useless. Factor in that morphing—which the group has never seen before—the horror of Oscar hanging there limp, and the general fighter response of, ‘I can’t just keep attacking head on because that thing might kill me,’ and you realize the group was screwed from the start. They can’t stand up against this thing, not without a good strategy anyway, which there’s no time to think up. For the first time in years, ever since Tyrian, Salem actually made the right, villainous call.

Ren screams, “Give him back!”—which was just lovely in an angsty way—and the grimm creepily cuddles Oscar against his chest. Then he responds, “No.” Yeah, they’ve never seen that before either. Can you blame them for their shock? I’m impressed that they were on their bikes just seconds later, managing to keep the grimm in sight. That speaks to their combat experience. Not the ability to power through a situation where they’re clearly outmatched, but their ability to pick themselves back up and try again.

... Ah, so that’s why Pietro was oh so randomly making them bikes. The plot needed a way for them to keep up with a flying grimm. Got it.

My takeaway? RT should be writing horror. They’re far better at it. The animation, sound effects, voice acting, the grimm’s speech and protective instincts, that splatter of goo on Oscar’s cheek…

... stellar all around. Like the Apathy, this is the best I think RWBY has been since the lore episode of Volume 6. Granted, action sequences like this aren’t required to grapple with any of the messy morals and character consistency of other scenes, but still. If RWBY had just given me a lighthearted ‘Girls fight cartoon monsters’ show or a horror fueled ‘Girls fight monster abominations’ show, I’d have been happy. This? This is the only redeeming part of the episode. And it’s indeed one hell of a redemption. Look at this thing!

I’m not going to say it erases all the bad we got—it doesn’t—or that it likewise erases problems like Salem not using the rest of her army, but it’s a notable step in the right direction. This grimm is a threat. This grimm is a mountain the cast has to overcome. If this is the minion its master should be Everest. I still think this Volume is going down the tubes fast (it’s going the way of Weiss lol), but if it can give me more scenes like this? It might not be a total loss.

Last thing to acknowledge: What about Ozpin? I’ll admit it doesn’t look good. Given how fast he takes control he should have been able to override Oscar’s will and at least fight back a little with that spectacular magic we saw during the finale. So why didn’t he? I hope we get an in-world explanation: it happened so fast even Ozpin couldn’t do anything (shaky, but I’ll take it in a pinch), now that the merge is farther along he can no longer take control—something. Because I can easily imagine how quickly the fandom, and even the cast, will turn on him for not playing deus ex machina here. In reality, I think Ozpin didn’t take control simply because the plot needed him not to. The writers needed Oscar kidnapped so any potential out from that is conveniently forgotten… which is another knock against their writing, despite how great the scene otherwise was. The point is to take all these potential pushbacks and find a satisfying way to circumvent them, not pretend they don’t exist. RT can still save themselves here by providing that explanation later, so I hope they’re smart enough to do that. Ozpin has been blamed for everything at this point. His own kidnapping doesn’t need to be added to the list.

Also, still no word on Schrödinger's councilman. We’ve got to wait another week to see whether he’s dead or not.

Finally, let’s update the bingo card!

I’m crossing off “Ruby gives an ‘inspiring’ speech built on ignoring facts she doesn’t like” for that conversation with Penny. Yeah, it’s a speech to her alone about her worth, but Ruby mischaracterized the situation so badly I’m mad at her lol

I never thought the story would straight up just not have the grimm army attacking, so I think I’ll hold off on “Army of grimm conveniently doesn’t kill any civilians” until we see if/when it gets involved.

I’ll likewise hold off on the timeline slot until we see how bad things get…

Maria is on thin ice given that we have no idea what she’s supposedly doing while the group is off on their missions. Stay tuned.

Today we’re crossing off “Deadly cold conveniently doesn’t kill any civilians.” They should all be dropping like flies by now.

A friend pointed out that Cinder’s Cinderella flashback counts as an “Overly obvious fairy tale allusion.” In fact, I talked about how much of a shorthand that is, so that’s getting a mark.

From last week I’ve also decided to include Amity for “Retconning previous lore.” Now that the group is fully underway with their plan it reads as even more egregious that we were told it wasn’t ready.

I’ll hold off on Ozpin’s space for a while. See if he apologizes to the whole group and, if so, exactly what for.

“Oscar is finally kidnapped”—check!

Well, that’s a whole lot of headway this week. Can’t wait to see where the next episode takes us... Here’s hoping we spend a lot of time with that Hound. MVP of the episode.

Until next time! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #mymetas #rwby recaps

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tangledstarlight · 4 years

Photo

days go by and seasons change (lets try again next winter)

julie's ready for a year away from home, studying and trying to refind the magic in music. luke's about to start on a summer tour around europe opening for a band. they meet one night, sparks fly and emotions run hight. now they've just got to try and see if they can maintain a long distance friendship.

ok hello hi so this is my wild ride of a fic that i’m working on, a scene (much later on) came to me in a dream, and much like how smeyer wrote twilight, i just had to find out how they got there fhbdj there’s some drinking which would be classed as underage in the us but is legal in the uk which is where it’s set so

trigger warnings!! alcohol and swearing

also on ao3 –– [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | extras 1 & 2 ]

winter

There was a line almost outside the door for the coffee shop, people wanting something to warm them up or just to avoid the sudden downpour of rain. Julie had been in England for just over a month now and she still wasn’t used to the randomly changing weather, how were you supposed to plan an outfit for the day if it started mildly sunny and ended in a thunderstorm? It was January! She had come prepared for snow, not rain, damn it.

From her table in the back corner of the cafe, hands wrapped around a mug and headphones blaring music, Julie people watched. Sure, she was supposed to be working on an essay, but she’d been there for half an hour already. She deserved a little break.

Even through her music she can hear the sounds of the cafe around her. Customers placing orders and rain on the windows and cups hitting tables and people laughing and it’s comforting. The sounds of life going on around her while she pretends to be doing work.

Pretends, because she’s been trying to work on this essay for a week now and getting nowhere with it.

When she’d signed up for the study abroad scheme her mind had been on experiencing a new country, on the places she could visit, the new friends she could make, the thoughtful looks she could escape.

She hadn’t thought much about the work she would have to do, the essays that would need to be written, the awkwardness of settling into a new place, the strangeness of hearing new accents.

The actual creative side of her course she found easy enough, but when it came to writing about her stylistic choices and her themes and her influences and how they all tied back with what they’d been reading about? She was drawing a blank.

Blowing on her drink, Julie let her eyes wander around the coffee shop. It was a fairly small place with an extensive collection of teas and fresh baked cakes and free wifi. She’d found it by mistake while looking for a music shop her first week in the city, they’d lured her in with carrot cake and coffee and she’d been coming back at least once a week ever since. A group of boys push through the door, shaking off hoods and laughing at something as they join the queue.

Something about them seemed vaguely familiar, like she’d seen them from a distance in a dark club, or scrolled past a group photo of them on her instagram suggested posts. Or maybe it was because they just looked like every other group of young adults she’d come across, both back home and in Liverpool. One thing she had learnt pretty quickly was that boys were the same everywhere.

She was saved from mulling it over by her phone vibrating on the table with a text, Carrie’s name popping up on the screen and Julie swapped her cup for her phone, a small smile already tugging at her lips as she read the series of texts on her screen.

Julie’s attention is dragged away from her phone by something – someone – knocking into her table, sending her pen rolling off and her cup to shake. Pulling her headphones out of her ears she looks up as the culprits eyes widen, mouth pulling into a grimace as he stares at the coffee now running down the back of her jacket that had been happily sitting in the spare chair.

“Shit,” he mutters, already pulling a napkin out of his back pocket and dabbing at the mess. “I’m so sorry, I uh– wasn’t looking and the chair leg and fuck I’m so sorry about your jacket, can it be dry cleaned?”

And he looks so sincere in his apology, all wide sad eyes and words stumbling out too quickly and messy brown hair curling out from under a beanie and accent that sounds like home, that Julie swallows back the annoyed retort she had ready to go.

It was just an accident. Accidents happened. At least it wasn’t over her laptop. Blowing out a breath, Julie shakes her head at him once, pushing back her chair to inspect the damage.

“It’s fine, honestly. Don’t–” she pauses, holding up the denim on either side of the collar and frowning at the pretty large brown stain. “Worry about it.”

Can she wash it? She’s never tried, but well. She bites her lip as she looks at it, the stranger awkwardly standing just a short distance away with a wad of used napkins and his half spilt drink, and yeah, she definitely won't be able to wear it tonight.

“I’m so sorry.” He says again and someone must catch his attention over her shoulder because his eyes dart away from her, eyebrows shooting up and shrugging his shoulders and, it’s kinda cute. The way he seems to be hovering, unsure if she’s going to shout at him.

“Seriously, it’s fine. Accidents happen, right?” She shoots him a quick smile – though not missing the way his cheeks turn slightly pink – before turning back to her jacket, carefully laying it out on the chair to hopefully dry out enough for her to stuff it in her bag before she needs to leave. She really hopes it stops raining.

“I uh– shit I’m sorry. Again. I gotta–” He gestures to the door where Julie can see his friends waiting for him, barely contained grins on all their faces that has Julie rolling her eyes. Boys. She looks back at him, raising an eyebrow even as her lips tick up into a small smile, she’s rewarded by his cheeks going red, the hand still holding the napkins rubbing at the back of his neck and a stuttered ‘goodbye’.

Sitting back down, Julie rolls her eyes again, muttering under her breath about ‘annoying cute boys’ and ‘favourite jackets’. Leaning down to pick up her fallen pen with one hand while the other tapped out a reply to Carrie. An hour more of sitting here, attempting to do her essay and then she’d have to go if she wanted enough time to get ready.

“So where are you?”

Julie couldn’t hear what was being said on the other side of the phone, but judging by the way Carrie was rolling her eyes the answer wasn’t correct. Flynn leans her head on Julie’s shoulder, their linked arms drawing them closer as they walk, it’s not the most comfortable way to walk, but they’ve already had a few drinks and Flynn gets a little clingy after one. Julie puts her head on top of Flynns as they stumble along cracked stone streets.

“She actually might end up killing Bobby at this rate,” Julie mutters and is rewarded with Flynn letting out a laugh that has Carrie looking over her shoulder at them, eyes softening for a moment before she’s rolling them again. If she hadn’t known the other girl as long as she had, Julie would be worried about permanent eye damage.

“Fucking hell. Okay. Yeah, okay we’ll be like, ten minutes then. Yeah, yeah, okay bye.”

Sliding her phone into her back pocket Carrie took a half step back so she was walking with them again, linking her arm on Flynns other side.

“They’re at the Cavern Club,” Carrie looks at Julie over the top of Flynn’s head and lets out a loud sigh, “I know. That’s where we were going to go anyway. They’re so annoying.”

But she says it in a fond sort of way. Like how you talk about your neighbour's dog that barks too early in the morning and wakes you up, but always runs over to say hello to you through the fence when you walk past and brightens up your day. Annoying, but sweet.

Julie’s only met Carrie’s cousin Bobby once, it had been a short ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ type interaction as he ran into Carrie’s house to pick up his bag and then run straight back out again.

She’s never met the other three members of the band at all, but she knows, after doing a little bit of internet searching, that their band isn’t half bad. They’ve got some pretty good songs and a small following that she is sure is bound to get bigger by the time they’ve finished being the opener for whoever they’re touring with and their first album is out in the world.

The three of them flash their id’s to the security on the door, slightly giddy smiles on all their faces even now, still not used to it all being legal for them to drink under the age of twenty-one. But the security guy doesn’t even blink and then they’re walking down a flight of stairs, the air getting warmer and the sound of drums and guitars reaching them.

Carrie grabs hold of Flynn's hand and Flynn grabs a hold of Julies and then they’re weaving through people and avoiding knocking drinks out of hands.

Her attention is pulled from the crowd to the stage at the back of the room, a band playing a cover of something she can’t name, they don’t sound too bad, and the part of her that used to fall in love with music every time she heard it wants to stop and listen. But that part of her is small and quiet and shy now, so she keeps her grip on Flynn’s hand and follows along.

Julie doesn’t know how Carrie knows where she’s going but all of a sudden they’re coming to a stop, her free hand reaching out to balance herself on Flynn’s shoulder even as a small part of her is still trying to work out what the song is.

Turning her eyes away from the stage she looks at the five boys sitting at the table, a collection of bottles scattered across the wood, and Julie smiles at Bobby who’s standing up to hug Carrie, opens her mouth to say hello before stopping. Her brows furrow as she locks eyes with a shaggy haired brunette who’s own eyes are widening in realisation.

“You!” She blurts out before she can stop herself, and if anyone asks she would blame it on the three drinks she had before leaving the dorms, detangling her fingers from Flynn’s to point at him. With the music blaring so loud only the boys still sat at the table and Flynn heard her, the latter turning to raise her brows while Julie can see the boys trying not to laugh.

“He’s the guy who spilt coffee on my jacket earlier,” she shouts over the music, hand gesturing wildly at the table and Flynn follows her hand, eyes resting on the culprit.

“That was her favourite jacket!” Flynn props one hand on her hip and almost glares at him, but it loses part of its ‘scare factor’ when she starts swaying a little in place to the music. Well, Julie thinks it should lose some of it’s scaring power, but the guy still looks kinda worried, so who’s Julie to know?

“I said I was sorry!” He puts his hands up, shoulder raising to almost his ears, and with his eyes already open so wide and his hair curling slightly at the ends, Julie has to wonder how much trouble that look has gotten him out of over the years.

“You guys have already met?” Bobby jumps into the conversation before Julie has a chance to reply and Carrie is looking between them, lips pursed.

“This is the girl whose jacket Luke ruined earlier,” the blonde one says and Julie vaguely recognises him as being one of the boys from the cafe.

“Dude,” Bobby raises his eyebrows at the jacket ruiner – Luke, Julie reminds herself – shaking his head in disappointment.

“It was an accident!” Luke turns his sad kicked puppy look on Bobby before looking back at Julie, his hands lowering but his eyes still drastically wide, “I really am sorry about it.”

Julie tries, she really does, to hold on to that small kindle of annoyance that she’d felt upon seeing him again. But well, the jacket is already ruined and she’s come out to avoid doing an essay and she’s finding it really hard to be mad at someone so cute. Blowing out a breath she shakes her head at him.

“It’s fine, I’ll forgive and forget the whole thing if you buy me a drink.”

“That I can do,” the furrow in his brows smooths out and his shoulders relax and suddenly there’s a smile spreading across his face that seems to light up his eyes.

“So, you’ve met Luke. That’s Reggie, he’s our bassist,” Bobby nods at the dark haired guy sitting next to Luke who grins and waves, and it’s such an infectiously happy wave that Julie can't help but wave back. “Alex, kickass drummer,” the blonde who spoke earlier ducks his head a little, an almost shy smile on his face as he nods at them, “And Willie. Officially he’s one of our roadies, unofficially he’s just here to hype us up and do cool tricks in empty arenas.” Willie, who’s sat pressed against Alex’s side, raises his hand in a wave.

“This is Julie and this is Flynn,” Carrie points at them each before claiming the seat next to Alex and looking at Luke, “We’ll take 3 vodka lemonades. Please.” She only adds the please on the end after Flynn sits next to her, nudging her elbow into her side, Julie notices with a smile.

There’s a moment of bodies moving as Luke gets up from his side of the table, pulling Bobby along with him towards the bar and Reggie is waving his hand at her, nodding at the empty space along the bench next to him that she slides into gratefully.

They can’t really see the stage set up from here, but the music is still just as loud and Julie starts nodding her head along to the beat, trying to focus on the conversation happening on the other side of the table. Something about Carrie’s group and choreography and convincing someone to add in a dance break to a song. She’s laughing at something Willie said when a glass is slid across the table in front of her, a bottle of something passing over her to Reggie and she looks up in time to see Luke sliding into the space next to her, a small smile on his face.

“Forgiven and forgotten?” He asks, eyebrow quirked as he lifts his own drink, tilting it towards her in invitation.

“Forgiven and forgotten,” she agrees picking her glass up and tapping it against his beer bottle, shooting him a smile of her own before chasing the straw of her drink to take a sip, trying hard not to blush at the intensity of his stare.

It’s two hours later, three drinks and a deeply regrettable shot later, happily on the precipice of truly drunk but hanging out in tipsy land, when Julie shakes her head at Luke who’s standing on the bench. Tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he writes on the curved brick of the ceiling.

“Dude no ones gonna be able to even read that!” Reggie complains from next to her, his eyes squinting as if it will help him to read their names better. It doesn’t, Julie’s already tried.

“Why did we let the one with the worst handwriting do this?” Alex tilts his head to look up at Luke, who waves the hand not holding the pen in his face, almost hitting him but missing by several inches to the left and it sets them all off giggling.

“Because the rest of you are cowards!” He wobbles a little as he shuffles his feet to change angle, and Julie reaches out on instinct to hold his leg, fingers wrapping around his calf as if it will stop him from falling. His head drops down to look at her, teeth biting his bottom lip as he smiles at her quickly before going back to the ceiling.

To leave his – their – mark on a legendary musical site. Luke's words, the rest of them hadn’t been able to talk him out of it so they’d gone right into encouraging.

“I think you’re getting cowards and idiots mixed up,” Carrie mutters, head propped up on her hands, elbows resting on the table. Well, Reggie and Julie and Willie had gone straight to encouraging, the others were still on teasing.

“Do you want your name added or not?” Luke grumbles but Julie can see his pen moving, going over the letters of what she assumes is meant to be Dirty Candi, and bites her cheek to not laugh.

“Don’t forget it’s an ‘i’ instead of ‘y’ for candy!” Flynn leans forward, eyes on the ceiling as she shouts up at him and Luke says something, but it’s too quiet for any of them to hear.

It isn’t until he moves to get off the bench that Julie realises she still has her hand wrapped around his calf, her fingers idly tapping along to the song some guy with a guitar is playing behind them. Heat fills her cheeks (that she’ll blame on how warm it is in the club and the alcohol in her system thank you very much) as she lets go, pulling her hand back into her lap, watching from the corner of her eye as he jumps down and back into his seat, a proud smile on his face.

“Now when we’re big and famous people can come and hunt our names down.”

“And finally realise that you have awful writing and question how any of our songs get written,” Bobby grins at him, elbow nudging his side which sends Luke leaning into her to try and avoid it, sliding along the bench until there’s no space between them, and she can’t find it in herself to be too mad about it. He smells like tequila and mint and aftershave all mixed together, not really a good combination, but one she finds herself liking anyway.

“Well why don’t you start writing the songs, huh?” Luke retorts, and starts a back and forth with Bobby, Alex chiming in and Flynn watching it all like a tennis match, and Juile tries to follow it, but all she can think about is how Luke hasn’t moved back. How his thigh is pressed against her leg and his arm is resting around her back, hand near her hip and how if she wanted to, she could rest her chin on his shoulder and kiss his neck.

Not that she wants to kiss his neck. Does she?

Julie furrows her brows, biting her lip as she examines those thoughts, tries to decide if it’s the alcohol or the music or her lack of sleep or if she just wants to kiss him.

Flynn says something and it makes him laugh, loud and bright and unrestrained, head thrown back and eyes closed. And yeah, she just wants to kiss him. Fuck.

Reggie slings an arm around her shoulders, the other going over Flynns and tugging them together until their cheeks are all pushing together and Julie giggles, poking at his side with her partially trapped arm.

“What do we think chocolate tequila is like?” He asks, eyes glued to the chalkboard menu above them.

“Not as nice as the summer fruits one,” Julie says back, wrinkling her nose a little at the memory of when she’d tried it. If you liked chocolate, it was a bitter disappointment in her opinion. But she was also drunk enough now not to mind.

“Alex says we can’t get the coffee one. Thinks we’ll have a repeat of the red bull incident.” Luke appears on her other side, pushing his body into the small gap between her side and the next group of people. He’s stood so he’s facing her – them – and rests one arm on the counter top.

“Man he’s gotta get over that, it was one time,” Reggie mutters and Julie wants to ask what the ‘red bull incident’ is, but then Flynn is sliding three shot glasses towards them, salt and limes following, apparently having ordered without any of them noticing.

“We’re standing with mango!” Flynn shouts, shot already in one hand and salt on the other, clearly waiting for the three of them to catch up. Reggie lowers his arms and Julie can feel Luke’s hand brush past her arm as he moves to lick the back of his hand, she can feel herself flushing as she watches him do it. And is happy to note that he flushes just the same as he watches her lick her hand in turn.

Idly, Julie notices that Reggie counts them down, that Luke inclines his head at her before he lifts his shot to his lips, that Julie lifts her own, the liquid sliding down her throat with a slight burn that’s not eased at all by the lime she bites into. She squeezes her eyes shut against it and when she opens them sees Luke grinning at her, eyes full of something she can’t name but makes her want to blush again.

“Y’know what? Screw Alex, four of the coffee my good man!” Reggie shouts next to her, waving a hand at the bartender in front of them who just rolls their eyes but puts out four more shot glasses.

“Okay, you gotta tell us about the red bull incident,” Flynn finally asks what had been nibbling at the back of her mind from the moment Luke had spoken so she pulls her attention away from him and back to her friends as Reggie launches into his story that even grabs the attention of the bartender for a moment.

But Luke is a warm presence at her side, leaning into her space and breath ghosting against her neck as he chimes in the story. If she stepped back, just a little, she could lean her back against his chest. She wonders if he’d wrap an arm around her waist to hold her steady? Julie blinks and blows out a breath, raising an eyebrow as Reggie talks.

“Wait, how’d you get onto the roof?”

“So why Liverpool?” Luke asks, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat as they aimlessly walk through almost empty streets, faint music coming from clubs and other drunk people giggling in doorways. The fresh air has helped a little to sober her up, but not enough for her to know where they’re going. But they’re following Carrie, who has a plan for the night and they’ve no option but to follow it.

Julie wraps one arm around herself, the other pushing hair over one shoulder as she thinks about it. There isn’t really a big fancy answer, no special reason for her choice, she shrugs at Luke, lips ticking up into a smile.

“It was the only place still with spots open,” she can see the slight confusion on his face and explains more, “I wasn’t going to take the study abroad year, but I changed majors and I needed to get away from home for a while. Carrie and Flynn had already signed up and the internet said the train didn’t take too long to get to Manchester or Glasgow.”

“You changed majors?”

Of all the things she’s said that hadn’t been the part she’d thought Luke would zone in on. It wasn’t really something she liked to talk about much, her fall away from music. She still loved it, still listened and wrote and sang, but the passion she’d once had, the magic she’d once felt whenever she sat at a piano? It had gone away. Had been gone for a long time. Had been gone for four years and she’d only been pretending she still felt the magic.

Everything she played or wrote was missing something and no one had seemed to notice but here.

It hadn’t been until one of her teachers in first year had pointed something out that Julie had finally confessed. And changed course and major the next week.

Everyone had tried to understand, had listened as she explained why she couldn’t do it. How her mom and music were so intertwined together in her head and her heart that it felt impossible to detangle them, to love and play music without always feeling like there was something missing. But she knew they didn’t really get it

So she’d signed up for the study abroad, and picked Liverpool because they had a good English Lit course and was close enough to her friends if she needed them. Okay, so maybe she’d lied a little, there was a fancy answer for why she’d moved, but picking Liverpool had just been random.

“Yup,” she pops the ‘p’ and glances ahead of them, where Willie has Alex clinging on to his back, running through a puddle and laughing loud and clear. She can’t help but smile at them, at the carefree way Willie spins around and Alex holds tighter, face red with whatever he’s trying to say between laughs. Luke must follow her gaze because he lets out a soft snort of laughter, and she can see him shake his head from the corner of her eye.

“I’d hate them if they weren’t so adorable together,” he muttered, but his gaze is soft as they both watch the couple; Willie lets Alex off his back and grabs hold of his hand before he had a chance to get too far away. They’re all soft eyes and teasing smiles and vibes that scream about being in love, you’d have to be blind not to see it. Julie looks away, feeling like she’s intruding on a private moment as they share a kiss.

“Tell me about the tour,” Julie says, drawing Lukes attention back to her and it’s the right thing to say because his face lights up with a smile that she’s sure is going to drive girls wild one day soon.

Julie nods along with the song blaring through the speakers, mouthing the words so herself as she scrolls through her phone, ignoring the press of bodies crowding the smoking area as best she can. From her spot near the wall, opposite the door, she can see Carrie and Willie and Alex dancing together, wide smiles and heads thrown back.

Flynn and Reggie are talking to a group of people off to the side and Julie can see the way Flynn has pulled her braids over one shoulder and is gesturing to Reggie every few words the way she does when she’s trying to hype someone up (she knows, from having been on the receiving end of it, many times). Bobby, standing with them, seems to find the whole thing hilarious, grinning around the cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Okay, favourite book?” Luke asks, leaning in close to be heard over the noise and if he doesn’t move back, well Julie’s not about to complain. The little space heaters on the wall don’t provide much warmth, and it’s January and she’s cold and someone ruined her jacket.

“Currently or of all time?” She asks, raising an eyebrow as she turns her head a little to look at him. Her heart stutters for a second at how close his face is to hers, she can see the small flecks of green in his eyes, can feel his breath ghost across her cheeks.

“Current,” he says and she can see as his eyes flicker down to her lips quickly before back up to her eyes and Julie really hopes she’s not blushing right now.

“Stardust. By Neil Gaiman. I’m reading it for one of my classes and it hits all the boxes for a fairytale.” She likes fairy tales, likes the idea of them, likes the message of true love and pure of heart and happily ever afters. This one just happened to involve lightning pirates which was a bonus. Okay, so maybe the lightning pirates were mostly a film detail, but still. “Favourite food?”

“There’s this little hole in the wall place down by the strip? They do the best cheeseburgers. If I could have one for every meal, I would.”

They’re still standing close together, eyes staring too intensely for a game of twenty questions and comments about cheeseburgers and Julie’s eyes flicker to his lips, can see the way they’re pulling up a little on one side. She wants to lean forwards, close the gap between them and press her lips against his. But then she shivers, shoulders hunching up around her ears as she rubs her bare arms, conscious of how close they’re sitting and how much she just kind of wants to steal his body heat.

“Are you cold?” He’s biting his lip, pulling back out of her personal space and Julie almost whines at the loss of contact and body heat and – well maybe she’s too drunk to be making smart choices right now if she’s five seconds away from whining.

“Well someone ruined my jacket,” she points out, eyebrows raised at him and is rewarded with his cheeks flushing and one hand rubbing at the back of his neck which she’s quickly coming to realise means he’s embarrassed or just a little flustered.

“I thought we’d agreed to forgive and forget about that?” He mumbles and before she can come up with a response Luke is standing up, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and then he’s carefully draping it over her shoulders, fingers tapping lightly on her arm until she holds it out for him to slip through one arm hole, doing the same on the other side and then pulling her hair out from under the collar.

It’s too big on her, but the faux fur inside is soft on her skin and still warm from Luke and she can stick her thumbs through the little gaps created by the fastened buttons and if she turned her head a little she could smell his aftershave clinging to the collar. Julie can’t help the little smile that graces her face, rotating her shoulders to let the coat settle better on her body.

Looking up at him her brows furrow a little at the look on his face (if she wasn’t so drunk and giddy and tired she’d say it was something like awe but that made no sense. Why would Luke be looking at her in awe while she wore his jacket?), but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared and he’s smiling at her, that wide smile from back at the start of the night when he’d handed her her drink and she’d tapped it against his.

“Thanks,” she tilts her head to the side, loose curls falling across her cheeks as she looks at him, a wide smile of her own and she opens her mouth to say something else – though she’s not sure what she’s going to say – when another voice cuts through and pops the little bubble they’ve created.

When did they even create their private conversation bubble? Julie doesn’t know, and from the way Luke’s head whips around to land on Flynn and Reggie and Bobby with wide eyes, he probably doesn’t know either. But it’s nice to know that he’d been enjoying their conversation as much as she had.

“We’re gonna get food, come on!”

“I wanted to be wrapped up in bed an hour ago,” Julie sighed but there’s no real annoyance in her tone as she hugs Luke’s jacket closed tight across her chest, shoulder brushing against his arm as they walk.

“But you also wanted pizza instead of McDonalds like everyone else.” And Luke has a point but she still pulls a face, sticking her tongue out at him and getting a laugh in return. She couldn’t even be annoyed at it, he had a nice laugh.

Plus, when she’d said she wanted pizza Luke was the only one who’d wanted to come with her, the rest of their friends going back to their hotels. He’d walked all the way to the takeaway with her, shared half of his chips and then started walking her back to her dorm, insisting on carrying her half eaten pizza too. It was all very sweet and kind and not helping her not want to kiss him.

“Where’s your first stop?” She asks, because he was about to start a tour and she had school and maybe if they were both back home they might have been able to give something a go, but they weren’t and Julie wasn’t really a one night stand kind of person.

“We’re heading up to Newcastle on Sunday to kick it all off,” there was a slight bounce in his step, his excitement almost palpable and Julie could tell that this was all he’d ever wanted. To play music to as many people as he could. A small part of her remembered what that was like, to want to share your songs with the world.

“Sing something!” She pulled him to a stop in the middle of the street, bouncing a little on the balls on her feet and grinning at him. Because she was still a little drunk and she missed feeling excited about playing music and here was this sweet charming guy who loved it so much and felt it with everything he had and Julie wanted to be like that again too. She wanted to think about music without it being tinged with sadness.

“What?” He laughed, eyes a little wide and glassy and with his hair looking more wild then it had when they’d started the night, but Julie was pretty sure she looked the same so she didn’t comment.

“Sing! Anything! Please?” Julie tried pouting at him, doing her best impression of Carlos and his puppy dog eyes and something about it must have worked because Luke huffs out a laugh as he looks at her, biting his lip in thought for a moment before he nods his head for them to keep walking before he starts singing.

His voice is a little rough, from screaming lyrics in the clubs and shouting to be heard in the bars, and his words are a little slurred because he’s a little drunk and a lot tired, but Julie’s sober enough to decide it’s one of the best versions of Mamma Mia she’s ever heard. As he gets to the first chorus she joins in.

They were just two slightly drunk young adults, singing in the street and if nothing else comes of his night she’ll always have this memory of unadulterated joy.

“You can sing,” he whispers and now it’s Luke’s turn to pull her to a stop with a hand on her arm and a look of wonder on his face. Julie shrugs a little and can feel her cheeks heating, but she keeps their eye contact and smiles at him.

“Only drunk in the streets.” Which is more true then he’ll ever know.

Luke opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off by pointing over his shoulder at the building behind them.

“This is me.” She’s not sure what to do now, take her pizza and run? That seems a little rude, and unsafe. Julie’s not sure she can actually run in these shoes without falling. Luke looks over his shoulder quickly before looking back at her, blowing out a breath and nodding.

“Right, right.” He seems just as unsure as she is about what to do now, which makes Julie feel a little better about it.

“I should–”

“Can I–”

They both start at the same time and then Julie is laughing and Luke is huffing out a breath while a smile grows on his face. The only thing between them is a pizza box and she doesn’t miss the way his eyes keep flickering down to her lips.

“I can’t kiss you!” She blurts out, a hand quickly going up to cover her mouth and Luke’s eyes widen, taking a half step back, retracting his hand like he’d been burnt.

“That wasn’t– I– this–” Luke started stuttering, face going red and Julie quickly shook her head at him.

“That came out wrong! Fuck. I–” She curled her hands into fists at her sides, squeezing her eyes shut before opening them, “I want to kiss you, but I can’t.”

The shock on his face had softened at the start of her sentence only to morph into confusion at the end.

“You’re gonna have to explain this to me, Molina.” Luke still looks confused, but he’s still standing in front of her and that’s enough for her.

“I like you,” she dips her head as she says it, because Julie’s pretty sure she could really like him if given the chance, “but I’m no good at one night...things and you’re about to go on a tour and I’m stuck here and I just, I think– I think I’d like us to be friends. I think we could be really good friends actually.”

Because they’d only spent a few hours together and she’d laughed and smiled more in that time then she had in awhile. Luke was sweet and funny and had something to say about every song the DJ picked to play but sang along anyway. Which is why she doesn’t want to risk a friendship for one night in bed. The confusion on Luke’s face turns into understanding and the soft, slightly sad smile that he gives her tells Julie that she’s right. A friendship with him would be better than one really fun night.

“I get it,” and he carefully puts his hand back on her arm, squeezing slightly before pulling away. “And, for the record, I’m not very good at one night things either.”

Her heart beat sounds loud in her ears and it takes Julie a moment to refocus her thoughts. Friendship. No kissing. Friendship.

“Well, maybe if we can keep a friendship going until we next see each other we can try this moment again,” she waves her hand around them with a small laugh. They could probably keep a friendship going long distance, but Julie isn’t so sure that they’ll ever get a moment like this again.

“Deal,” Luke grins down at her and pulls his phone out of his back pocket and unlocks it, Julie raises her eyebrows at him when he holds it out for her, “In order to keep in touch we’re gonna need to exchange numbers.”

“You make a point,” she agrees, putting in her information and handing it back to him in exchange for her pizza box. “Text me when you get back to your hotel, okay? So I know you didn’t get lost.”

“Yes, boss.” His smile is a little teasing now and Julie shakes her head at him as she brushes past him to walk into her dorm. She’s half way across the road when stops in her tracks to turn back at him.

“Wait, I’m still wearing your jacket.” Julie stars to shrug the item off when Luke shakes his head, already starting to walking backwards down the street.

“No, keep it!” He shouts with a smile, “Means we’ll have a reason to see each other again and have another go at this.”

Julie just shakes her head at him with a laugh, watching as he walks away before tightening her grip on the box and finally making it into her dorm. She’s still got an essay to write and a pile of laundry to put away and magic in music is still missing, but she’s gotten herself a new jacket and a friend who she thinks could make her life a little brighter. So she’ll forgive and forget that she's home an hour later than promised.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie molina #luke patterson #alex mercer #reggie peters #carrie wilson #willie #flynn #rosie vs writing #i just. really like making fake texts and igs and tweets lmoa #*fics

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

Marshmallow World - Anders Harris x Reader (The Land of Steady Habits)

Holiday Fic Time! 🎅🎄

@wltz-bby @happyskywhale

GIF CREDIT: X

Author’s Note: I mean this is technically a Christmas movie anyway, right? 😉

Technically we don’t actually mention Christmas at all in this fic, but I mean... it is Festive Season related.

Honestly, this song is another google search for “songs involving Christmas candy” and like... yeah, this! Basically because my prompt from @sagitariusrising was ‘Do you really need all that candy?” (To which the answer is always yes, by the way.)

Thank you for requesting 💜💙

Disclaimer: TLoSH zip to do with me / not my gifs / not my lyrics

Premise: It’s time for the winter markets and annual light switch on in your little town, and you clearly are a homing beacon for sweet things...

Words: 2635

Warnings: sexual innuendo / sexual connotations / it’s clearly a Christmas market and stuff I just tried to take the Christmas element out of it.

_____

It's a marshmallow world in the winter, When the snow comes to cover the ground. It's the time for play, it's a whipped cream day, I wait for it all year round!

Those are marshmallow clouds being friendly, In the arms of the evergreen trees; And the sun is red like a pumpkin's head, It's shining so your nose won't freeze!

The world is your snowball, see how it grows, That's how it goes, whenever it snows. The world is your snowball just for a song, Get out and roll it along!

It's a yum-yummy world made for sweethearts Take a walk with your favorite girl It's a sugar date, what if spring is late In winter it's a marshmallow world The world is your snowball, see how it grows, That's how it goes, whenever it snows. The world is your snowball just for a song, Get out and roll it along!

---

Today was the big annual light switch on in town, and for once there were no cars on the roads. Although that mostly had to do with the fact that instead of the main streets being open, they were covered market stalls and were bustling with people. It was known to be traditionally busy, and you’d stayed the night at Anders’ place - as he was closer - in order to get here early. Not that you did much sleeping. And you still had to set off before the sun came up because it wasn’t just your town that turned up here, and he wasn’t within walking distance of town. You had a nice secret weapon in Preston’s little apartment, which was situated centrally, near the main shopping street, and had spaces out the back. Not many in his block had cars, and he had enquired with his neighbours to secure one for the two of you. So you’d turned up to his place this morning and walked the rest of the way. Despite the lack of sleep - and you would certainly blame your boyfriend for that - you were all in very high spirits. It was chilly, but you were bundled up, and there was something about the cold today… Due to the excitement surrounding the market it just hit a little different. You expected more snow; it had already fallen pretty steadily all week and the weather seemed to suggest it would stay that way. Anders laced his fingers with yours, pulling you closer and drawing your hand into the pocket of his coat. You couldn’t help smiling, even though you weren’t looking at him, and you nudged into his arm playfully, causing him to chuckle.

Preston, who was walking in front of you, turned with a look of feigned disgust: “You two aren’t about to embarrass me again are you!?” “Oh my god, we haven’t even had breakfast and he’s started.” Anders muttered, before rolling his eyes, “No! Could you walk any slower?!” Preston scoffed, “I’m admiring the ambience. Taking in the silence before it gets too busy... Where do you wanna go for breakfast anyway? Geez, we coulda had some at mine. Woulda been cheaper.” “As if you’re paying!” You couldn’t help laughing at their bickering, some things never changed, and for that you were extremely grateful, “First off, it’s tradition-! And I’ll pay, let’s just get out of the cold for a minute…” You’d all been doing this for years - the market was a tradition in town after all - and it was never less exciting than previous iterations. For the past few years, however, you’d had the addition of your boyfriend and his son. There were a few stalls that had become staples, but there were a lot of independent ones that just kept being added to, and you always loved looking at these. A lot of your gifts had started to become more local and to your friends around the world these had become like gold dust. Each year you received multiple texts asking what it was going to be this time, and you always teased them all about it. Now you were with Anders this became even funnier - because stall hopping became a long string of gasps, before he shook his head at you, smiling, ‘Alright, who is this one perfect for!?’ Preston usually hung around with you both for about an hour or so before he graciously took his leave to wander alone. Sometimes you thought he was merely humouring you… sometimes you felt he actually wanted to hang out with you both. So whilst at breakfast you discussed what you were most looking forward to seeing, and what route you were going to take. With the market spread out over most of town you could start and finish the circuit virtually anywhere; and you liked doing different variations of your walk each year - and then revisited stalls where you’d need a little more time to think.

***

Sometimes you thought Anders humoured you just as much as Preston did, because he didn’t ever do a lot of shopping here. Although you got the distinct feeling that he came down on another evening to do that - because occasionally you talked about things you liked and you ended up being gifted them. Sometimes you were surprised you hadn’t caught each other in the act, as this was something you did too. But you knew Anders would tell you otherwise; you thought that in reality he just enjoyed your company here and getting in the holiday spirit. After all, of the two of you, who was the one decorating their house to the nines? You always cackled when driving up, because you could literally see his house from blocks away; such a vibrant mass of colour down an otherwise dull street. No-one else made the effort that he did.

This year Anders had hauled you over to help him put them all up (well, Preston was supposed to help too, but he spent most of it sitting around with a beer directing you) and you were in fits of laughter for the whole day. So once the whole damn thing was finally lit up at night, you almost felt sick from how much you were laughing. His son was laughing too, but you felt for different reasons. Anders didn’t really care, he was just happy that you were both joyful, and that things were looking festive. You’d helped him decorate the rest of the house too, and tried to reign him in to being at least a little tasteful about it. “Inside or outside, not both.” “Aw, c’mon Y/N, you gotta do it properly!” “Good god, what are you planning!?” Still, in the end you thought he’d managed it. In fact one of the main reasons that Anders’ house was a little more decorated than yours was the amount of time you were spending here. You’d invited him over for a date and he’d peered around, then looked at you with a frown that said you were insane. “You call this decorating!? This is so SAD!” You were almost tempted to agree with him… As predicted, Preston eventually moved further and further away from the two of you. However, this year you didn’t just let him go, and you and Anders looked to each other with identical smirks. “OI!” Preston stopped, shoulders moving in a cringe before he twisted back to you, “...Yeah?” “Not cool enough for you or something-!?” You had always prided yourself on being the cool one, so that tease was well landed when he practically grimaced. “If you wanna leave just say something!” Anders was a little louder about it and Preston turned red. “Oh my god - guys! What did I say!” He shuffled back over, trying to calm you both down. “Just ask to go!” “C’mon I’m not 12-! I’m not even 17! I have to ask!?” You peered around him, spying a few of his friends kicking around just up the street. That’s probably where he was heading. Anders folded his arms tilting his head, “You’re still my kid.” Preston took a deep breath and sighed, “I know…” That caused your partner to smile gently, “Go on, go enjoy yourself. Just don’t be a stranger okay?” “Okay…” Preston was a little bashful, but gave Anders a hug anyway, “See ya later, dad.” Anders blinked a couple of times but returned the hug gratefully, and you caught that smile of his you knew he’d likely be wearing all day. Preston offered you a hug too, which you gratefully accepted, “Go enjoy yourself with your friends!” “Yeah!” He laughed, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do-!” You gave him a look that might suggest you didn’t know what he was talking about, before Preston gave you a wink and waved you both off. You turned to Anders’ smile and couldn’t help beaming yourself: “If you could see that look on your face.” He laughed and as he looked to you, holding his hand out for yours again, that smile widened and Anders’ blue eyes glittered; “Oh… I know!” *** If there was one theme in all your purchasing this year, it could only have been candy. The food stalls were out of this world and you’d strategically come to them all at lunchtime. Unfortunately you were both eating and buying, and your sweet tooth had taken over. You were glad this was still going to be a good walk-! But the festive candy was just too cute to pass up - and it would be rude for you not to try some, especially when offered. Anders had resisted a little at first, but now was in full swing with you. And every time one of you commented that you were stuffed and probably couldn’t eat another bite, you came across yet another stall. At this point - unsurprisingly - you were on a sugar rush and Anders was groaning and trailing you. You hadn’t made him carry anything, at least he could be grateful for that - but he was pretty sure he knew exactly what you’d be eating over the festive period. “Do you really need all that candy?” At least he said it with a laugh. You turned to him eyes wide, “Uh, yeaaah--!” He looked amused and bit his lip like he was goading you into something but, standing and staring at you laden with bags full of nothing but candy, Anders couldn’t help it: “Oh my god, seriously, are you a child?” You knew exactly what he was saying but, instead of agreeing, you folded your arms and gave him exactly what he wanted: “Says YOU!” “Me?!” Anders placed a hand to his chest, and was smiling even though he was trying to look shocked, “Whatever could you mean-!?!” “It’s the Holiday season Anders! Everyone is entitled to act like a child!” He chuckled, walking towards you, “Exactly, so why are you complaining!?” “I’m not complaining - you’re complaining!” “Mmm…” He tipped his head gently with a squint, “I can complain about your candy consumption if you can complain about my decorating.” You gasped, “Always with the decorating!” “You started it!” The two of you kept staring each other down for a minute, until you realised that you were standing in the middle of the street arguing like children. Upon which you fell into peals of laughter. Eventually you both managed to calm down, and Anders wiped his eyes, taking deep breaths of cold air to stop his voice from wavering with laughter too much. “So, uh, kiss and make up?” You giggled, thinking you might have just graduated from children to teenagers: “I think…” You took a step forward to be nearly toe to toe with him, “that would be wise!” He wound his arms around you as you leaned up into him, your lips to his as you closed your eyes. Suddenly you were glad of all that candy, because it made him taste even sweeter. An amalgamation of sugars and chocolate coated his own familiar taste and you couldn’t help but groan into the kiss. You were surprised Anders didn’t snort at you just for that; but he squeezed you to him a little tighter. You pulled back, eyes closed for a moment just to savour him, opening them again and breathing; “I think there’s sugar still on your lips, should I kiss it off?” Anders smirked as you clung on to his coat, “What, didn’t get enough of a sugar fix?” “From you?” You leant back up into him, smiling, “Hell no!” *** As the evening began to roll in, with renewed excitement in the air, the crowds were drawn further downtown to watch the lighting of the tree and the strings of lights running the length of main street and beyond. You of course had immediately spotted someone roasting marshmallows, and Anders only rolled his eyes. ‘Of course!’ Still at least they tasted good and were of the right consistency, as you pulled him through the crowds to get a good view. “Only you would be able to find another place selling sugary treats!” “I must be honed in!” You grinned. “A sugar radar. Sounds about right-!” You looked back to him with a smile, “I like sweet things. That’s why I’m with you. The radar didn’t lie-!” He couldn’t help turn a shade of pink at that, “Okay, you’ve definitely had too much!” Anders remained beside you and cuddled your body into his as you stood watching the MC do his best to warm up the crowd - for the most part everyone was in good spirits and it worked charmingly. In fact you didn’t think one person didn’t join in with yelling the count down. You’d both spotted Preston - still with his friends - and had waved over, but left him to hang with them. There was a gasp through the crowd and then a cheer as all the lights went on. You couldn’t help but also light up, feeling like a child again. There was just too much wonder and joy about this time of year not to. It always made you excited. Anders smirked, leaning into you, “Bet that’s not the only thing that gets turned on tonight…” You knew that he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist bantering back to his cheekiness: “Well, you can turn me on later.” There was a growl to his voice that proved his point: “Oh… I think I will.” You walked slowly through the streets admiring all the different collections in vibrant colours; there had been some new strings added and the town had clearly got very creative. You thought suddenly about making the trip into NYC to see all the lights there… although somehow you felt this could be better. Especially with the context. When the chill in the air began to settle in, you decided it was about time to call it a night. Finding Preston just to say goodnight and hug goodbye. Although you weren’t exactly hurrying back, despite your joking. And eventually white flakes began to fill the air. Anders paused and blinked before continuing the walk a little slower, watching it begin to stick to the ground. “Oh, what would you know, it’s snowing.” He commented, but realised you weren’t beside him anymore. You had stopped a little way down the street behind him, looking up in wonder at the sky as the flakes began to drift. He walked back to you, slipping his arms around your waist and rested his head on top of yours to watch them fall. “Snow always looks so pretty. And so soft when it’s settled...” “Not as pretty as you.” He mumbled, but smiled himself. “Okay, Mr. Smooth.” You chuckled, “I suppose you want to get me home?” He smirked, “Think that one is your prerogative. But I can certainly warm you up-” “Uh huh!” “-In the car on the way back.” You scoffed, taking his hand back in yours, although neither of you moved, “Maybe we can watch for a few more minutes…” “Then I’ll have to warm you up even more.” You could hear that smirk in his voice as you pushed your head back into his chest, and couldn’t help but smirk yourself. “I mean I really hope you do. First you gotta turn me on... like a Christmas light.” Anders scoffed, “Oh what, like that’s hard?” You bit back your immediate reaction, ‘what’s hard?’, but couldn’t help but snort; “Oh no, I’ve seen you with your own. I think you got this.” “Oh yeah.” He pulled away from you slightly to place a kiss to your neck that made you shiver, “I’m practically a pro.”

---

Thank you for requestingggg--!! Thank you for reading! 💕😘

#Anders Harris #The Land of Steady Habits #Anders Hill #Holiday Fic #Linzi Writes #Linzi Writes Requests #Ben Mendelsohn #Preston Harris #ALWAYS put Preston representation in an Anders fic #because I loooove him #201 #Anya #Ahhh... the close out to the year has begun!#Thank you for making me love him again - it got a bit tense but he's back and thats nice #through no fault of his own of course

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debbiechanclub · 4 years

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“Personal Snow Globe” - Brandon Cutler x OFC

Title: Personal Snow Globe

Theme: @12daysofchristmas Day 4 - Snow

Fandom/Character(s): AEW/Brandon Cutler x OFC

Warnings: None! This fic is a big ball of fluff.

Word Count: 1,537

Notes: @champbucks wanted a Brandon fic, so I had to deliver. I must say, this is probably the SOFTEST thing I have ever written, but I’m quite proud of it. I hope y’all enjoy!

Find more of my fics here.

Tag squad: @hotyeehawman @freshlysqueezedmox @gabbynorth98 @comeasyoudar @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @librathepheonix13 @exe-sadboi-exe

For the first time in a long time, Olivia wasn’t excited for Christmas. Ever since she and Brandon had started spending the holidays together, they’d traded off which side of the family got which holiday. This year, it was supposed to be Thanksgiving with Brandon’s family and Christmas with hers—but while they had spent Thanksgiving at Brandon’s parents’ house, given the state of things they’d chosen to be responsible and not travel for Christmas. Which meant they were staying in Southern California rather than going to Olivia’s parents�� place in Western New York. And, while she was upset that she wouldn’t get to see her family in person, she was probably even more upset that she was being robbed of a white Christmas.

“It’s supposed to snow in Buffalo again tonight,” Olivia groused as she looked at the weather app on her phone.

“And probably tomorrow night, and the night after that,” Brandon pragmatically pointed out. “Didn’t you say Buffalo gets three times the national average snowfall per year, or something ridiculous?”

“It’s not ridiculous, it’s what’s supposed to happen in winter,” she returned. “Meanwhile here in seasonless Southern California, it’s in the seventies three days before Christmas.”

Brandon smiled and shook his head. He was used to hearing her complain about the weather in Southern California. While she absolutely loved it during spring and summer, by the time September rolled around she would inevitably get homesick for a chilly bite in the air and the actual need for sweaters and coats and scarves. Being able to walk around without so much as a jacket during Christmas was just wrong.

“You’re the one who decided to move here,” Brandon teased.

“And for two-thirds of the year I love it! But that other third…” she trailed off. He let out a laugh.

“It’s just the worst.”

She pouted at him. “I’m really bummed, Brandon. Seriously.” She didn’t mean to sound childish or ungrateful; she knew how lucky they were that Brandon’s family lived close enough that they could spend the day with them, and she was doubly lucky that she loved his family. But there was just something special about a snowy Christmas—and if there was any year that Olivia could use a dose of that magic, it was this one.

Thankfully, Brandon understood. He was the most understanding person Olivia knew. “I know you are, Liv. But we’ll make the most of it. At least we won’t have to spend it by ourselves; most people don’t have that luxury this year.”

“I know,” Olivia sighed, suddenly feeling bad for complaining. He was right, she knew he was. He always was.

But the New Yorker in her couldn’t help it. She wanted her white Christmas.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Alright, this is the last one.”

Brandon grabbed a box from underneath the Christmas tree and crossed the room to hand it to Olivia. She accepted it with a warm smile. They liked to open their presents for each other on Christmas Eve, so it was something personal for just the two of them. Had they been in Buffalo, they would have snuck up to Olivia’s childhood bedroom after dinner with her family and opened them there. Admittedly, it was a lot nicer to get to do it by their tree instead of next to her marching band competition trophies.

“This is heavy,” Olivia remarked, weighing the box in her hands. And then, her eyes widened. Somehow, she just knew what it was. She tore open the wrapping paper in two swift motions and let out a gasp. She’d been right—it was the Canon camera she’d been saving up for for months.

“Merry Christmas, babe.” Brandon’s smile was dazzling and infectious as he watched her unwrap it the rest of the way. Olivia was beside herself.

“Brandon… this is… wow.” She ran her hand over the glossy cardboard box, still in awe. That camera cost thousands of dollars. Suddenly, the Dungeons & Dragons dice set and wooden dice tower she’d gotten him—which had not been cheap—seemed paltry in comparison.

“This is too much,” she said.

“What?” Brandon gave her a look like she’d said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “No. I know you’ve been saving up for it for a while, but I had the money, so I figured why not?”

Olivia’s brow knitted together. “Are you sure? This is a really expensive cam—”

“And your photography is worth the cost.”

Tears immediately sprung to the back of her eyes. Brandon was too good to her.

But she couldn’t help but look a gift horse in the mouth. “Wait, you didn’t buy this to make up for us not being able to go to Buffalo, did you? Is this why you were gone all day yesterday?”

It wouldn’t be unlike Brandon to make a sweeping gesture like that; it wouldn’t be the first time since they’d been together. Plus, she hadn’t noticed this particular present turn up under the tree until late yesterday evening.

But Brandon shook his head. “No. I bought that for you a while ago,” he explained. “And I was gone all day yesterday because of traffic. There was still a last-minute Christmas rush even though people should be staying home.”

Olivia didn’t say anything in return, taking his word for it. But, as grateful as she was for the gift, she still felt a little guilty that he’d spent so much on her, even if he did have the money.

“Liv,” he gently squeezed her knee, drawing her out of her thoughts. “It’s not too much. I wanted to get it for you, and now you can use the money you’ve been saving for a rainy day.”

A smile crept onto her lips. “Right, because it doesn’t snow here.”

Brandon good-naturedly rolled his eyes. “I can take it back.”

“No!” She playfully snatched the camera away from him. “I love it, and I love you,” she said, and she sealed it with a kiss.

* * * * * * * * * *

Christmas morning, Olivia woke up later than she’d intended. After exchanging gifts, she and Brandon had stayed up late watching Christmas movies, drinking eggnog, and eating cookies—and she’d probably indulged her sweet tooth a bit too much. Thankfully, they weren’t going over to Brandon’s parents’ house until a bit later in the afternoon.

As she stretched and climbed out of bed, she was unsurprised to find herself alone. Brandon was an early riser, no matter how late he went to sleep. He’d probably already made breakfast. She hoped he hadn’t pulled out all the stops; she still felt a bit full from the night before.

She trudged into their master bathroom, still half-asleep, and turned on the light. But what she saw outside the window immediately woke her up.

Snow.

For a second she stood there, dazed and confused, not trusting her own eyes. She rushed to the window and pressed her face against the pane, peering out into the backyard. The “snow” seemed to be coming from one corner of the house, falling into the backyard. She looked down at the ground and spotted Brandon, looking up into the faux flurries. He saw her and waved, that giant smile of his on his face.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Olivia rushed to slip on her house shoes and hurry downstairs, her heart thumping excitedly in her chest. She felt like a kid again as she burst out into the backyard. “Are you kidding me?” she repeated her question to Brandon.

He held out his arms. “Since we can’t go to the snow, I figured I’d bring the snow to us.”

She looked up and watched in awe as the snow burst out from the roof and floated down onto them. It felt light and cool on her skin. She was almost tempted to open her mouth and catch a few flakes on her tongue, but she thought better of it.

“How in the world did you pull this off?”

A conspiratorial smirk appeared on Brandon’s lips. “This is why I was gone all day yesterday. I got the idea not long after you started complaining about it snowing in Buffalo again,” she rolled her eyes, but he kept talking. “It was quite a task finding one of these things two days before Christmas, but I wasn’t gonna stop until I did.”

Much like the Grinch’s had, Olivia felt like her heart grew two sizes right then and there. She had no idea what she’d done to deserve someone as sweet as Brandon, but he’d just singlehandedly made this Christmas better than any other Christmas she’d ever had.

He walked over and pulled her close, snowflakes falling all around them. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Olivia beamed. “It’s like our own personal snow globe.” She gave him a kiss. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he returned—and then Olivia had a thought.

“Stay here.”

She pulled away from him and hurried back toward the house. “What is it?” he called after her.

She paused with her hand on the door handle and sent him a smile over her shoulder. “I’m gonna get my new camera. I can’t think of a better first picture to take than in your Southern California snow.”

#12daysofChristmas #brandon cutler #brandon cutler fanfiction #brandon cutler fanfic #brandon cutler fic #brandon cutler one shot #brandon cutler imagine #brandon cutler x ofc #aew fanfiction

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quirkswriting · 4 years

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whipped cream cats and christmas magic

Overview: Life has been hard this past holiday season, so your local Rescue Hero (sidekick) Uravity decides to take Christmas Eve into her own hands (Pro Hero AU). Pairing: Uraraka Ochaco x GN!Reacher Wordcount: 2.6k Warning(s): Tons and tons of fluff Author’s Notes: MERRY CHRISTMAS MADDOX!!! From your friendly neighbourhood Secret Santa! I was so so so happy that I got you for Secret Santa this year, and I really really hope you like this!! Ily a lot and you’re such an amazing friend, I hope you love it!!!

***

Working retail during the holidays was a nightmare. You knew this, you really did, but honestly you didn’t expect it to be as bad as it is this year.

All through December more and more people were coming through your store as the days passed. You couldn’t blame them, really--you know you worked in a cool store with a lot of really cool pop culture and fandom items, and you were usually pretty good with helping well-meaning parents and grandparents, and the kids who wanted to get small trinkets for their friends. And you may have even gotten some very cute things there yourself while doing your own holiday shopping when you weren’t busy dealing with customers left, right, and centre. But you do love your job! You swear you do! But by the time your shifts finished, after helping people find gifts and dealing with the nice and not-so-nice customers all day, you never had much energy left by the time you got home. Even with Christmas fast approaching, all you wanted was some peace and quiet. You barely had time for your girlfriend Ochaco, which was something you did feel bad about, let alone time to go out and do a lot of the Christmas things the city had to offer. There was a cute Christmas market downtown, and the wonderful lights display in the local park that was always nice to see every year (among other things) and while the two of you had talked about going to see those things together, it just never ended up happening. But you knew she was understanding about the whole thing because really, how many date nights or lazy days in together had to be rainchecked because of hero emergencies popping up? Enough that the two of you really enjoyed the time you had together, whether it was five hours or five minutes.

The two of you had been living together for a few months now after dating for just over a year, and you’d settled into a comfortable routine. You worked your job in the mall while she worked as a Sidekick (but things were looking good in regards to joining a Rescue Hero Agency as a full-time hero!), and though your hours didn’t always line up exactly the way you wanted, the two of you were living a very nice, cozy life.

The two of you had been to one Christmas party together so far this year--your friends had thrown one way back at the beginning of the month, and you and Ochaco had plenty of fun looking cute and hanging out with your friends at a nice little party. Some of her old classmates from when she had been at UA had a little get-together too, but you hadn’t been able to take time off work to be able to go with her. She’d sent you plenty of pictures, and Iida and Deku had promised to throw a New Year’s party that you were definitely looking forward to. You wanted to see the fabled ‘Drunk Bakugou’ who enjoyed cuddling everyone in sight.

Thankfully, come Christmas Eve, all stores closed early across the city. You’d been looking forward to that for weeks. It felt so nice to be able to close up shop and bid your co-workers a cheerful, “Merry Christmas!” before you all went your separate ways. You’d see them on Boxing Day, bright and early, but until then you were planning on relaxing for the next day and half. Sleep sounded like a very good idea. So you drove home and made your way from your car up to your apartment, bundled up tight against the bitter chill in the air and the thick snow that was falling from the sky.

As soon as you’d unlocked the door and stepped inside, you could see Ochaco’s boots sitting by the front door. You slipped your own off, calling out an, “I’m home!” before hanging up your coat and keys and making your way from the front hall and into the living room.

“Welcome home!” Ochaco said, a big smile stretching out her round cheeks. She was sitting on the couch, legs tucked up underneath her body as she watched TV. You came over to sit beside her on the couch, pressing a kiss to her cheek and grabbing one of the blankets off the back of the couch to wrap around yourself to get nice and cozy after being out in the cold. One of Ochaco’s hands came up to rest on your shoulder and start to draw lazy patterns on your sweater. “Long day?”

“Long month,” you said. “It was so nice to close at noon today. It finally feels like I can breathe.”

The two of you settled together on the couch, with you telling her stories about customer interactions you’d had that day, and her peppering in little anecdotes about her recent work at Pro Hero Ryukyu’s agency.

“You’re seeing your family tomorrow, right (Y/N)?” Ochaco asked, and you voiced the affirmative. You were spending Christmas Day with your family this year (like you normally did), while Ochaco went to visit her parents. And then the two of you were meeting up to have a nice little birthday celebration for her on the 27th. There may or may not be a surprise party involved. It was going to be fun. “Did you have any plans for tonight?”

“The only plan I have is to take the most amazing nap I’ve ever had,” you said, wrapping the blanket closer around yourself. Her giggle, soft and having just a little bit of a snort mixed in, caused you to smile as well. “Why?”

Ochaco’s cheeks started to flush a light pink, but she shrugged. “Just wondering! I was thinking maybe we could spend some time together,” she said.

“Sure! Do you wanna watch Haikyuu and order food in?” you asked, and she nodded. You’d already seen all of the episodes out so far, but you’d gotten her hooked on it a few weeks back and the two of you were slowly making your way through the seasons together. Currently you were halfway through season 2, and you couldn’t wait to see her reaction to the matches once Karasuno had finished the summer training camp.

“We can see what we feel like when you wake up from your nap!” she said, and you nodded. After a few more moments, you got up from the couch and went to the bedroom so that you could close all the curtains and take a nice, much needed nap in the darkness.

***

True to your word, you had such a good nap. You even woke up feeling refreshed, which was a very nice change from most naps that just left a groggy, soup-y feeling after waking up. It had to be a Christmas gift from whoever was watching over you. Bundled up in your favourite sweater, you left your bedroom and made your way to the kitchen for a nice glass of water. Your girlfriend was already in there looking at something on her phone as she sat at the small kitchen table in the corner. She did look up, though, when you walked in, and smiled.

“Hey (Y/N)! You look like you slept well!” You nodded.

“Yeah, best nap I’ve had in ages,” you told her, getting a glass from the cupboard above the sink and fetching the water pitcher from the fridge. Once you’d finished pouring the water and putting the pitcher back, you took a nice long drink and set your glass on the counter. You looked at Ochaco, noticing her wearing her favourite pink and white winter coat with the soft white knit hat you’d given her last year for her birthday and the cute frog themed scarf from Tsuyu. “Did you just come back from somewhere?”

“No, actually I’ve got an errand I need to run before we sit down and watch Haikyuu. I have to go pick something up and it would be really nice to have some help. Please?” In the cold? After you’d already been out earlier? You were very sorely tempted to say no, but one look at your girlfriend’s puppy dog eyes had you sighing.

“Fine, but I get to choose dinner then,” you told her. You moved your glass from the counter to the sink as she let out a little cheer. You then went to go gather your things and get dressed for the cold weather outside while Ochaco grabbed her bag from off the table and followed you into the front hall. After you were sufficiently bundled up, you left the apartment and locked the door behind you. It was still snowing when the two of you left the apartment building, and you were quick to get to where your car was parked and buckle up inside.

Once the car had warmed up sufficiently, you shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot in the apartment complex the two of you lived in. Ochaco sat in the passenger seat and connected her phone to the AUX cord. Within a few minutes the car was filled with Christmas music while the two of you drove through the city. She was quick to point out all the decorations set up in front of different houses and in different shop windows. It was so peaceful and beautiful, with very few cars on the streets. That allowed you to drive a little slower than normal so that the two of you could really admire all the twinkling lights amid the snowfall outside the car. You weren’t quite sure how long that went on for, but you followed the random directions that Ochaco would give you as you made your way through the city.

As you got closer to the downtown area of the city, you recognized where you were going. You pulled into the parking lot that Ochaco indicated, which belonged to a small cafe that was sitting just outside the entrance to the park. It was one of your favourite date spots, even though the brunette was known to grumble about how expensive things were there, and it had the added bonus of overlooking the prettiest park in the city. You did as Ochaco instructed, seeing the lights hanging from all the trees in the park as you pulled into a spot and placed the car in park.

“An errand, huh?” You gestured towards the cafe and the park, and she clasped her hands together in front of her chest and smiled at you.

“Surprise! It’s not really an errand, but I wanted us to do something fun together tonight,” she told you. “And what’s more fun than spending time together in the park looking at all the lights?” Which, okay, you did have to admit that she was right, but she could have just told you that. But it was a nice surprise.

Ochaco smiled at you and reached back behind her to grab her bag out of the backseat, and then she proceeded to take a thermos out of her bag, holding it out to you. “I brought our own hot chocolate to keep us warm while we’re walking, too.” Which was fantastically sweet of her, and definitely something she did regularly, but you couldn’t help but look at the cafe you were parked beside. They had the most amazing holiday hot chocolate and you had thought that the two of you would be getting some of that. As if she knew exactly what you were thinking--which she most likely did, because for someone with a gravity quirk she was scary good at reading people--she shook the thermos at you. “C’mon! Do you really want to pay $6 for a small hot chocolate from some overpriced cafe and waste your money, or would you rather have a whole huge thermos of hot chocolate made with love?”

You made a show of sighing and looking longingly at the cafe, but there was a smile on your face. “But they can make a cat out of whipped cream and candy cane pieces.”

Ochaco was not impressed. She pressed the thermos into your hands as she unbuckled her belt. “I will literally get Sato to make like ten of those for you. And he can teach us how to make them! Wouldn’t that be cute? We can save money and make it a date.” You shook your head, laughing just a little as you unbuckled your own belt and got out of the car. You locked it once the two of you had gotten out, and you held out the hand not holding the thermos to take hers as you entered the park together.

The two of you walked together through the snow, admiring the soft lights set up on the trees. There were all different colours, from the traditional Christmas multicoloured and white lights, to blues and purples and greens all twisted through the leafless branches. It felt almost magical, being out together in the dark evening among the trees in the softly falling snow. It was cold, really cold, but the hot chocolate did help. And just being with Ochaco was enough to keep you warmer than you would have been on your own.

The two of you didn’t really see many other people walking around, which was fine by you. You got to walk hand in hand with the brunette hero, talking about anything and everything and nothing at all as you made your way along the path through the park. Really, this was a much better Christmas Eve than you had imagined it would be.

The two of you made it to a small clearing near the middle of the park, off of the pathway that you’d been walking on, and Ochaco gently tugged you along with her to stand in the centre of the clearing. You could tell she was up to something because she was very obvious, but you let it happen.

“Close your eyes!” she said once the two of you had come to a stop, and you obliged. You could hear her boots crunching in the snow as she ran around doing… something. You couldn’t really imagine what it would be, but you dutifully kept your eyes closed anyway. It took a few moments, as you rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet, before you could feel her gloved hands grab your own and hold them. You could hear her soft giggle from close to your face, and you couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face.

“Okay… open your eyes,” she said, her voice breathy and soft. You slowly opened them, and that’s when you saw what she’d been doing. A gasp left your lips as your mouth hung open. All around you, bobbing lightly in the air, were clear balls filled with what looked like softly glowing golden fairy lights. You looked around, seeing them circling you, and those lights reflecting on the two of you mixed with the lights from the trees was ethereal on that cold winter night. It was your own private little winter wonderland. You loved it. You loved it, and you loved that Ochaco had done that for you. It was simple and sweet and you couldn’t help but love the soft glow it cast across the whole clearing.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N),” Ochaco said, leaning forward to press her lips against your cheek. They were warm against your skin, and you wrapped your arms around her in a tight hug. You said your own, “Merry Christmas,” in return, holding her close as the two of you looked at the lights floating all around you.

There might be parts of the holiday season that you could do without, but this small, magical moment between you and Ochaco was something you’d treasure for many more Christmases to come.

#ILY MADZ #A LOT #bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha fic #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha #mha fic #mha imagines #mha scenarios #uraraka x reader #uraraka ochako #uraraka ochaco x reader #uraraka

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