#she also disregards the fact that i’ve measured everything in my room so i can put everything in the space where i would have the most open

[fandomitor]

it seems that my mother doesn’t understand basic math (geometry? but 3d) that you can’t fit a rectangle into a smaller square (even if it’s attached to a longer rectangle (stairs) if you can’t get it past the doorway)

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter Six

(I know it's Henry and not Sy in the photo, but it just fit too well with this chapter.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Six starts after the cut. (Chapter Five can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the last chapter or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

I will post a master list soon and put the link in the comments to make it easier to navigate.

Chapter 6

Chapter warnings: Smut, Christmas themes, mentions of therapy, embarrassing moments.

Ada didn't mind being woken up with soft fluttering kisses on her neck. She definitely didn't mind starting the day with the tantalizing rub of his beard on her sensitive skin and the hard press of his torso against her back, their legs entwined and his morning erection nuzzled against her butt.

What she did mind, however, was when any of this happened at the butt crack of dawn. Ada opened her eyes just enough to read 6:50am on the alarm clock.

"Sy," she groaned, stopping his wandering hands with hers, trying to trap them beneath her breasts. "Hold that thought for later, okay?"

She heard him chuckle behind her, his chest vibrating against her body as he freed his hands from her weak grip. "Later is for putting up the Christmas tree and the decorations," he teased, his right hand now drawing circles low on her stomach.

Ada groaned again, wanting to fight his tempting touch but unwilling to move away from his body heat. "I'll get up at 7:30." Those were the last words out of her mouth before she had drifted off again.

When she woke up once more, forty minutes later with the blast of her alarm clock, her back was cold and the smell of breakfast wafted through the air, filling her nostrils. Damn Syverson and his military sleep schedule! She had taken all her days off to spend them with him only to wake up even earlier than when she was working.

With barely open eyes, Ada threw on his shirt that hung on the chair and slowly made her way downstairs, following the scent of pancakes. She found Sy in front of the stove, just finishing up the last one before setting it on the huge pile of pancakes that looked fluffier than clouds. Ada had quickly learnt that while Sy was a disaster when it came to the art of cooking, he was the master of pancakes and barbecue.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he greeted her and then smirked when he noticed her attire.

"Morning captain," she mumbled, walking up to him before patiently waiting until he leant down so that they could share a kiss. It always made him laugh when she did that: the adorable pout on her face when he didn't bend down for a kiss fast enough was worth waiting the extra second every time.

They ate in relative silence, mostly because Ada definitely wasn't a morning person, but the fact that Sy had a habit of stuffing his mouth full of food also played a role. When she was done eating, Ada pushed her plate and glass away, and brought her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs on the chair. She eyed her husband intently, waiting for him to finish eating with a grin on her lips.

"Why are you looking at me like that, darlin'?" Sy asked, eyebrow raised suspiciously before taking the last sip of his morning coffee.

Ada blushed, suddenly looking bashful. "Well… I was hoping we could go back upstairs and continue what you started earlier," she admitted in a tiny voice.

Sy laughed, a booming sound that filled the entire room before a shit-eating grin spread on his lips. "Tough luck, darlin'." He got up from his chair, standing in front of her across the narrow table. "Should have thought about that before falling asleep on me earlier."

Ada's mouth fell open. The cheek on this man! And what made it worse, was his huge smile that made him look like a very amused bear, with his hairy, tempting chest. He was toying with her. "Are you really saying no to sex?" She asked, cocking her brow. Sy wasn't really the type to turn down-

"Yes, no sex." He stated, suddenly looking very serious. "We have to head to the store to buy decorations, then put up the tree and hang the lights outside." Ada tried her best not to laugh. He sounded as if he were explaining a major, life or death, mission to her – not Christmas preparations. "You’re dismissed but I expect you back here in fifteen minutes, dressed and ready to go." With that, he turned around and started gathering the plates and silverware to put them in the dishwasher.

"Yes, sir."

Ada knew better than to talk back. First, when he had something in mind, it was nearly impossible to talk him out of it. Second, she hoped that the sooner they were done with this, the sooner she could get laid. Third, he had used his Captain voice that somehow always managed to make an obedient little soldier out of her.

Though, rationally, she also didn't want to make it any more difficult for him. He had confessed to her a few nights ago why he'd felt so uneasy when they had gone grocery shopping: the gondolas were too tall which led to lots of blind spots and the amount of people meant he couldn't rely on his hearing sense to detect potential danger. 'It just screams ambush,' he told her.

Ada couldn't quite imagine what he must have experienced that a supermarket or a store would translate into danger, but it was not her place to question him. Instead, she had kissed his forehead in bed and offered to start doing their shopping on her own. Sy had promptly refused, suggesting they simply go early in the mornings, when there were less people and less distracting noises.

Now at Target, she was immensely glad she had gotten out of bed, the sight alone was worth it. It wasn't everyday you'd see Sy pick up a bunch of Christmas tree baubles and inspect each one of them carefully before determining which ones were worthy enough to make it to their living room. Ada sneaked a picture for safekeeping and then decided to send it to his mom as well. Family dinner was fast-approaching, and she'd seize all the cookie points she could get.

"Darlin'," Sy called, catching her attention. He was holding up an inflatable Santa who, instead of carrying gifts, dragged a bag full of liquor bottles and sported a drunk grin on his face. It was tacky beyond words. "Do 'you think we should get this, or will it just upset the neighborhood kids?"

Ada grimaced but tried to disguise it with a smile. She’d die before letting that thing on their lawn. “I think a neighborhood dog would tear it to bits within a second," she lied, trying to appear apologetic.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

°°°

The lights were up. It was a much quicker process with Sy's help. It was also the occasion for Ada to just sit back and relax because he was adamant, she shouldn’t step on a ladder to help. Instead, she had a glass of bourbon waiting for him for when he finished. It was 5pm somewhere after all.

"You said we had a tree!" Sy's deep voice reached her from the basement.

Ada threw her head back, sighing, before hurrying downstairs after him. "Yes, it's in that box over there," she pointed at a white cardboard box behind a couple of spare tires.

"Woman, it's tiny!" Sy complained, picking up the box and setting it down between them. It was about as tall as her. It was not that small.

"It's the one I've used every year since I moved in. It's pretty enough and doesn't take up too much space,” she defended.

In front of her, Sy exhaled loudly through his nostrils before rubbing his beard. She knew that move. It's what he did to remind himself she was not a soldier under his command, but his wife, and that he better measure his words unless he wanted to sleep on the sofa.

"Look, darlin'," he said calmly, enclosing her small hands in his much bigger ones. "This is my first Christmas home with my wife. I refuse to put up a minuscule, fake sapling in my home and call it a Christmas tree."

Ada was slightly taken aback. She didn’t know Christmas was this important to him. Though it was true he had been overseas on Christmas the past two years, so she could understand where he was coming from with wanting this Christmas to matter. Besides, it was endearing when he put it like that.

With a nibble on her lip, Ada gave in. "Okay. They're selling trees in that parking lot by the pharmacy."

Sy slowly shook his head, a mischievous look on his face. "No. We're going to get our own pine tree from the woods."

You gotta be kidding me, she groaned internally.  

°°°

Ada had no idea where they were. It hadn’t been that long of a ride, but there were no more houses or streets to be seen around them, just endless fields and a forest. It was only when Sy took a right turn, that she started spotting cars and what looked to be a very colorful barn which had been converted into a cozy boutique.

“Where are we?” She asked, staring out of the window as Sy looked for a place to park his truck.

“The Dallagher’s ranch,” he replied. “They do a corn maze and a pumpkin patch in the Fall, and in the Winter, you can pick up your own Christmas tree. My dad used to take Claire and I here every year.”

Oh… This was a family tradition. No wonder Sy made such a big deal about having a real tree for Christmas.

Once out of the car, they walked hand in hand through the dirt road until they reached the makeshift counter made of hay where you could get a handcart before heading out into the man-made pine forest and select a Christmas tree. Most people she saw, however, were already returning the handcarts and happily carrying their trees to their parked cars.

The old man by the cash register seemed to recognize Sy instantly, smiling warmly as he greeted him with a one-armed hug. Ada realized it was the ranch’s owner. “I haven’t seen you in years, Jack!” The old man exclaimed with a laugh before turning to Ada. “And who’s this pretty lady?”

“This is Ada, my wife,” Sy said, introducing them. He watched with amusement as Ada stumbled as the old man hugged her without a warning, taking her by surprise.

“Well, it’s great to meet you, Ada,” the man nodded once he had retreated, and then turned back to Sy. “Should I be offended I wasn’t invited to the wedding?” He teased.

Sy was already wrapping his arm around her shoulders, chuckling. “To be honest, Dallagher, there were no guests at the wedding,” he replied, amused at the way the old man frowned in a confused manner at that piece of information. “Actually, we came here to get a tree.”

“Of course!” Dallagher immediately turned and ordered the young boy in overalls to fetch them a handcart. “What size did you have in mind?”

“Something around seven feet,” Sy said, looking pensive as Ada looked up at him suspiciously, trying to figure out how much seven feet converted to in the metric system. Once she’d done the math, she pulled at Sy’s flannel sleeve to protest – that was way too big, it’d take up the whole living room – but the Dallagher’s grandson was already handing them the cart and leading them to the entrance.

“Trees that big are at the very back of the forest, you’ll have to walk a little.”

This turned out to be quite an understatement. Ada felt like they had been walking for literal years. While they had still come across other people at the beginning, mostly families, they were on their own now – that is if you didn’t count the many squirrels that kept appearing out of nowhere.

She stopped, grabbing the back of Sy’s red tartan shirt so he would be forced to pause as well. “Can’t we just take one of these?” Ads suggested, gesturing at the countless trees all around them. They were all pretty enough and considerably taller than her.

Sy huffed, biting his lip in amusement as he looked at her dispirited face. He’d told her she should probably get changed and wear more comfortable shoes before they left home, but she had insisted she wasn’t going to change clothes just to get a goddamn tree. “These are only around six feet, darlin’. And,” he paused, eyeing the trees more closely, “they’re not Nordmann firs. I want a Nordmann.”

Ada sighed defeatedly, but nodded all the same, starting to walk again when Sy took pity on her. “Do you want to sit on the handcart?”

The change on his wife’s face was instant, the frown lifting into a smile as she climbed on the cart and sat down in the middle, evening out her weight for him. “Is that better, darlin?” He asked teasingly.

She turned her head back just to make sure he saw her rolling her eyes.

By the time they reached an area with Nordmann trees that Sy considered nice and big enough, her butt was sore from the conjunction of the hard, wooden surface and the uneven ground. She wasn’t even sure she had made the better call or whether it would have been better to suffer in her new ankle boots instead.

“Which one is better?” Sy asked, pointing at two pine trees that looked virtually identical to her.

Ada shrugged, almost saying that he should choose before realizing how much time that would take. The man wasn’t picky about food, bedlinen or even the pillow he slept with, but apparently, he had to make sure he brought home the most perfect tree. She still couldn’t wrap her head around that. “The left one,” she said finally.

“Which one? Your left or my left?”

Breathing in deeply, she decided to just point at the tree she was talking about. Sy nodded thoughtfully and grabbed the saw he had brought with him and started to work on the tree. While she had been most eager to get this whole thing over with, it became an entirely different story now as she dreamily stared at her husband getting to work.

With most of his back facing her and one knee on the forest’s soft ground as he started sawing off the Nordmann fin, Sy looked absolutely delicious. The red flannel shirt unbuttoned over his white t-shirt and the jeans made him perfect sight with anyone with a lumberjack fantasy. Ada had never considered herself as having such a kink. A uniformed soldier, or even better, a captain? Hell yes. A strong, rugged husband capable of her breaking her in half? Also a big yes. A lumberjack? The thought had never crossed her mind in the past but there was no point in denying it now as she sat back on the wooden cart, watching Sy carefully saw down the giant tree.

She was wet. Horny. Aroused. You name it. It also didn’t help that they hadn’t had sex that day. Yet.

"Sy," she whined, just loud enough to get his attention, while swinging her legs in the air like a child.

"I'm almost done, darlin'," Sy responded, not bothering to turn around to look at her. "I want a nice, clean cut."

Yeah, and she want a nice, dirty fuck. Pouting, she watched him for a couple more seconds as he knelt in front of the base of the tree, deciding from which side he should bring the saw to the trunk next in order to make it even.

That was when Ada decided she was tired of waiting. Shuffling quietly, she slipped off her wet panties from under her dress and rolled them into a small ball before throwing it at her husband. It hit his left shoulder and rolled down his chest. Grinning wickedly, she leaned back on her shoulders and enjoyed the view, the muscles on his back shifting as he picked up the garment off the ground. If this didn't get her laid, nothing else would.

"Ada Metz Syverson," Sy groaned out her full name slowly, his voice even deeper than usual. He got back up on his feet and turned to face her, looking stern.

Suddenly she didn't feel so brave anymore, not when he had crossed the distance to her in two determined strides and went to tower over her small, sitting frame. His jaw was set, and his eyes were a darker shade of blue than usual. Ada moved her eyes down his body, her eyes pausing at the defined pectorals on his chest before sliding lower. He was definitely hard, the bulge on his jeans prominent.

"Just remember you asked for this."

She wanted to ask what this was supposed to be, but he didn’t give her the chance. “Legs,” he ordered, patting his shoulder as he came to stand just inches away from her. Almost unconsciously, she obeyed his order, her ankles coming to rest on the front of his shoulders, her feet framing his neck. “That’s a good girl,” he praised her with a quick kiss to her right calf before his large hands moved to the front of his jeans, just over the protruding tent and began undoing the belt and snap.

From this angle, Sy’s cock looked even bigger, the shiny glans flushed a deep pink. Ada swallowed tightly, her legs already shaking with anticipation and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Pumping his shaft with his right hand, Sy brought his left one to her core, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb over clit once or twice before sliding it between her folds. She was a dripping mess. Sy smirked when she keened eagerly at his touch, enjoying his ministrations until he pulled his hand away and brought it to his mouth, licking off her slick. “It’s good you’re so wet already because I just can’t wait to take you, darlin’.”

He wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t wait. The next thing he did, was grabbing hold of his throbbing, hard cock and guiding himself into her. Ada moaned loudly at the intrusion, drowning out Sy’s own growl as her walls clenched around his cock, trying to get used to the abruptness and depth of the penetration.

“Fuck, Sy!” She cried out, not even sure what it was she wanted. “Don’t stop,” was all she could muster as he ploughed into her like there was no tomorrow, hitting her pleasure all at once.

He knew they were being too loud. They might be alone, but they were still out in the open air, and yet he just couldn’t find it in himself to care – not when she felt this good around his cock and her noises only heightened his fervor. If someone happened to stumble upon them, then they’d simply be in for a premium show,

It wasn’t long until her legs started shaking almost uncontrollably up in the air, prompting him to remove one hand from his steely grip on her hip and wrap his arms around her legs to keep them steady as he continued with jackhammer thrusts. “Are you going to cum for me, darlin’?” Sy panted, groaning out the question between clenched teeth even though he already knew the answer.

Ada didn’t manage to reply, the first waves of her orgasm already coursing through her when she moaned his name. Her hips canted up, her body tensed up like a bolt, and Sy knew he was done for right then. Her warm walls squeezed him impossibly tight inside of her, milking the cum right out of his cock while he fought to keep his balance as pleasure overtook him.

They came down from their heights slowly, chests heaving. Sy lazily removed her legs from his shoulders, massaging the strained muscles on her inner thighs before he set her legs down. This woman would be the end of him. “That was…” he panted, bending forward over her body to kiss her forehead, unable to find a proper adjective to describe what had just happened.

“Yeah,” Ada breathed out, nodding slowly.

Sy ended up having to carry her and the tree on the cart back to his truck because there was no way she was able to walk straight after that.

°°°

They finished decorating the giant tree. Ada had to admit it looked pretty although the red and gold decorations clashed with the color theme of their living room. She handed Sy the newly purchased baubles one by one – he was the only one capable of reaching the top.

On their way back home, she had somehow managed to convince Sy to stop at the therapist’s office – the one she had found had the highest ratings on Google. They had booked the first available appointment, which was just after the New Year and Sy had made it very clear to their secretary it was just a ‘testing appointment’ and that there was no need to set aside time slots for follow-up sessions yet because there was no guarantee he’d be back. His reluctance was palpable, but Ada was glad he was giving it a try at least. And if he didn’t like, then they’d figure out something else.

In the background, their wedding video kept playing and she wondered for how much longer she'd have to hear the sound of camera flashes as the chapel assistant took way too many photos of them in the most cliché poses you could imagine. Sy has insisted they put on their wedding video since they’d never gotten around to watch it and it fit the season, according to him. Slowly, the annoying sounds began fading away and Ada sighed with relief. Watching herself on TV sparked too much embarrassment in her.

"Hand me the big one with Rudolph, will you, darlin'," Sy asked from behind her, still meticulously decorating the tree.

Ada nodded, searching for the bauble he had in mind. It was still in the shopping bag, she remembered, lifting it off the floor to dig inside it.

Ada froze as a female chuckle was heard, unconsciously gripping the glass ornament too tightly in her hand. "Not that fast, Captain."

Behind her, Sy frowned. "What did you say?"

"Tonight, I'm in charge," she heard her own voice say - no, it was more like a purr.

"Shit!" Ada cursed loudly, letting the bauble fall back inside the bag and she hurried to the TV, her worst fear confirmed.

Sy followed her quickly, stopping just behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Is that from our wedding night?" He asked slowly, his eyes locked on the screen as he watched his younger self being tied up to the bedposts by his wife.

"Yes," Ada cringed, her face a painful grimace. "I didn't even remember the sex tape."

"Me neither," Sy swallowed loudly, admittedly rapidly becoming aroused at the sight of his Ada doing a striptease on camera. She wore that red ensemble with the garter belt.

"I think the assistant never really ended the video after our wedding, only paused it and we later continued filming in the hotel instead of starting a new video," Ada commented, now understanding what had happened. How they’d even came up with the idea of filming a sex tape on their wedding night, she didn't know. Alcohol had probably played a part in it.

Sy was still staring in awe at the TV, enthralled by the sight of his wife deviously edging him, her hips swaying slowly, when her words slowly registered in his head. "Didn't we send copies of the video to our families?" He stammered, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and hesitant.

Silence fell between them as they both realized they had been dumb enough to send copies before watching it themselves. "Fuck!" Ada barked, seizing the remote to pause the video. "We sent that to my parents, your parents, your sister...," she listed, her face losing all color.

Suddenly, the sound of Sy's deep laughter filled her ears. She turned to him, aghast. How could he find this funny? This was peak cringe! She’d be one needing therapy after this!

"You know, darlin', watching this video was the first time my parents ever saw their daughter-in-law, before even meeting you in person." Sy explained, shaking his head with amusement.

Ada was mortified. No wonder Mr. Syverson had seemed on the verge of laughter the first time they'd met and Helen had given her the side eye. The woman had a USB stick in her home with an hour-long video of Ada fucking her son. "You know, Sy, this wedding video is also the first thing my parents saw of you." He stopped laughing abruptly, his face red, all amusement gone.

They both sat down on the couch next to each other, slowly coming to terms with the fact that pretty much their whole families had seen this, and never said anything, probably keeping it as an inside joke.

Sy broke the silence, his large hand reaching to rub her naked thigh. "You know, I don't think we should be embarrassed," he said, prompting her to stare back up at him, eyebrow raised dubiously. "The way you tied up my arms really enhanced my biceps and you looked adorably hot like a vicious kitten from hell."

°°°

@colourmeinblue​ @hail-horror-queen​ @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl​ @kmuir1​ @madbaddic7ed​ @coffeebreathy​ @purplelove75​ @summersong69​ @helenaellie​ @rn7rocks​ 

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

If you have time, could you please do about Fred, on his penultimate year on Hogwarts, falling for the new Slytherin student, who is the daughter of Regulus Black and is also demisexual. Also, George is shipping them hard 😂

You got it dudeee

“And remember, if someone mentions your last name--" "Tell them Uncle Sirius will kick their ass." Sirius said making you snort. "Guys, it's not like it's my first year." You said. "We know lass, we just love you to pieces." Sirius said, hugging you. You smiled in your Uncle's arms. "Alright, I've got to go. Love you dad, love you too Padfoot." You said before walking onto the train. "They wouldn't stop hugging you aye?" Ginny asked. "It was the hug that WOULDN'T END!" you whined. Neville smiled and you hugged him. "Where's Luna?" You asked. "Here!" She said making you smile. You hugged the girl, walking with the group once you parted. "Hey, my brothers wanted to talk to us by the way. Some weird ass experiment with their products." Ginny said. "This is Fred and George right?" You asked. "Still can't believe you haven't met them, I thought everyone knew the Weasley twins." Neville said. "I guess I just never made it on their radar." You shrugged. "Oh no, they know you." Ginny said. "They do?" You asked. "Yep. I talk about you all the time and they have seen you around." Ginny assured. "Ah." You nodded before Ginny slid open the door. "Aye. You brought them?" A boy asked. "well shit George, who the fuck is standing in front of us." Fred snorted. "Fuck off." George said making Ginny said. "Aye who's the one in the middle?" George asked, referring to you. "Oh that's Y/n." Ginny said. Fred looked over, dismissing the new face at first before truly looking at you.

He couldn't explain what happened. It was like your eyes just made him freeze in place. All sound temporarily drowned out and Fred swallowed hard, looking at you. There was something about you that just was amazing to him. Maybe it was your eyes that almost seemed to glow as you looked into him. Or maybe it was the fact that you were beautiful. Maybe, just maybe it was the soft voice you used when you said hello to him. It took him a few seconds to comprehend the fact that you had extended your hand for him to shake. He slowly took your hand and shook it, still looking into your eyes as if they gave him purpose. "Uhm... Guys? You good Fred?" Ginny asked, snapping you two out of the trance you two seemed to fall under. "Yeah..." Fred nodded, slowly letting go of your hand. "Yeah, we're fine." You cleared your throat. Both of you listened to George as he explained the product, Fred glancing over at you before George cleared his throat, looking at Fred to speak. "Y/NNNNN!" someone yelled making you jump before everyone turned to the window of the train. You facepalmed seeing your Uncle James. You opened the window and Lily smacked James. "I wanted to give you something!" He said, making you raise a brow as you took parchment from him. You gasped, realizing what he gave you. "Really!?" You asked, the group confused over the fuss over a seemingly blank slip of parchment. "Good luck!" He said. You chuckled and turned around, the group looking at you confused. "Uhm... What the hell was that?" Neville asked. "Oh... Uhm... Promise you guys are as devious as Ginny say you are?" You asked Fred and George. They both exchanged a look before nodding.

You closed the door and smiled. You held up the parchment and pulled your wand out of your pocket. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." you said, sudden burst of maroon, splashing onto the pages and forming the words "The Marauders' Map". "The hell is this?" Fred asked. "Well shit, it says its a map, I wonder if it's a MAP FRED." Ginny said, earning a flick to her arm. "What does it do?" Luna asked curiously. "You can see everyone's movements in real time with this. It's able to be used on the train, in Hogsmeade and Hogwarts." You explained. "....This is brilliant." George gaped. "Wait, so how does it go back to normal?" Neville asked. You cleared your throat. "Mischief managed." You said, the map clearing away. "Oh God, Fred and George are going to have a field day with this." Ginny said. "DUH." both brothers said in unison.

You carried on through the week though, by yourself. That's usually how it went. First day with friends, but outside of listening to their problems you usually only hung out with Luna. She understood you. She saw the hatred for your own family and how people rarely recognized you for yourself but that damn last name that was your curse to bare. Regulus was a good man to the lower class of wizards who shared the philosophy that all wizards are equal. However to the upper class he was a fucking moron who didn't understand tradition. Some would even bring up your "disappointment" of an Uncle.

Regulus for the most part while in school ceased contact with Sirius for the sake of your grandparents. But the second he moved out, a letter was sent to Sirius begging to be in his life again, which of course he accepted. In fact, he introduced Regulus to your mother. They were married for three years before she had you and my god was Sirius proud to be your Uncle. However the rest of the house of Black bowed their heads in shame as Regulus married a muggle. Your mother was a wonderful woman, however she got sick a few years ago, passing away and leaving you to your dad and Uncle. You didn't hate the arrangement by any means but you missed her. Luna, recognized that pain but also recognized how you pented up your grief, your most common excuse being that if Regulus knew how depressed you truly were then it'd be an issue.

Luna, of course knew better. She understood that Regulus would want you to be okay and let those feelings out. You were eating in the great hall alone today though, Luna having classes that didn't exactly line up with yours. Someone however, sat in front of you. At first, you disregarded it as some random student, but when you glanced up you saw the red hair and dropped your fork, jumping slightly. "Fred!" You gasped. "Hello there." He said. "... Isn't class still going for you?" You asked. "Yep." He nodded, biting into a croissant roll. "...And you're not going?" You asked. "Nope." He said. You gave him a flat look. "So you're trying to lack brain cells orrr--" "Academics don't necessarily measure intelligence darling, it's just an excuse for adults to supervise our actions." He said. "....Riveting perspective." You said, raising a brow. "I wanted to talk to you though." He said. "About?" You asked. "About some rumors going on." He said. You frowned. "...About what?" You asked. "Your family--" you got up, grabbing your books that were next to you, avoiding the subject by leaving as Luna sat down. "Where is she going?" Luna asked. "No idea?" Fred said. "She seems upset... What did you say?" Luna asked. "I asked her about the rumors going around about her family." Fred admitted. "Oh... She doesn't like talking about it. Actually she hates being vulnerable in general." Luna said. "...Is there something wrong?" He asked. "What rumors were you referring to?" Luna asked. "The ones about her being a Black?" He asked. "it's true." Luna said. "Seriously? She's a pureblood?" He asked. "No. Her mother was a muggle." Luna answered, recalling what she learned about you from Harry. "Was?" Fred noticed the past tense. "She passed away late into her first year here. It's why during the last few weeks she wasn't here."  Luna said. "I've never heard any of this from Ginny." Fred said. "Neville and Ginny don't exactly listen. Neville does but he gets easily distracted. But Ginny, while she is a good friend has other things she worries about." Luna said. "...I see." Fred muttered. "You want to get closer to her, right?" Luna asked. "Wha--" "I saw how you looked at her on the train, I think you'd be a good match." Luna said in a "matter of fact" voice. "...Not a word to anyone else." Fred said. "The only things I say that are secret are to Thestrals." She said softly. "...What?" Fred asked. "Nothing. Y/n probably went to the library." Luna said. Fred blinked but nodded slowly.

He proceeded to the library, almost walking past you. Neville had emerged though, jacketless and walking to the great hall. Fred walked into the section Neville emerged from and found you on the ground with a book, reading and wrapped in Neville's cardigan. "Y/n--" "Jesus!" You jumped. "Sorry! Sorry." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry about earlier... I didn't realize it bothered you." He said. You rose a brow. "...Why do you care what I think?" You asked. Fred blinked. "...What?" He asked. "Why do you care if I'm offended or not?" You asked. "Because I want us to be friends." He said. You looked as if he asked a confusing question. "...Why?" You asked. ".. Because you're interesting?" He said confused. You blinked a couple of times but Neville reemerged with an apple. "Hey, I know you said you weren't hungry but I got an apple from the kitchens." He said, sitting next to you. "Thanks..." You answered, still looking at Fred. "Mind if I join you?" he asked. "Sure! Come sit with us Fred- or is it George?" Neville asked. "You got it right the first time buddy." Fred said, looking at you. He slowly drifted his eyes to Neville as he had a small smile. "Or did you?" He added making Neville look up and you snorted.

From this point on, Fred had decided to just be around you, whether it was in the library with you and Neville, walking the grounds of school with Luna or sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Ginny, Fred was always present. It bugged you slightly at first. But as the months continued you gradually got used to him being there.

Everything changed though, when you all went to Hogsmeade together. The rest of the group went off together, you however decided to go off on your own. Almost, on your own. You were sitting on a bench, letting out a slow breath before Fred sat next to you. You looked over and sighed. "You." You sighed, looking at the shrieking shack. "Me. Always me right?" He asked. "It is always you. But I'm meeting someone so if you could go, I'd appreciate--" "Who are you meeting?" Fred asked. You sighed. "My Uncle and dad now--" "Why can't I meet them?" He asked curiously. "Because I said so!" You whined. "If I followed the rules, I wouldn't be in detention so often, now would I?" He asked. You huffed and groaned, getting up. "You're always such a pain in my ass Weasley! Why do you have to follow me around like a lost puppy or something!?" You asked. "Because I think you're cute." He said. You blinked. "But if I'm really bothering you, I'll go." He said, getting up and walking away. You looked at him surprised as he walked. "NOT. FAIR." You blurted out. He stopped. "What?" He asked. "That's not fair!" You huffed once more.

He turned around "how is it--" he was met with a snowball to the face and he blinked at you. "Did you just throw a fucking snowball at me?" He asked. "YES!" you huffed before he bent down, scooping a handful of snow and shaping it. "Oh shit-- I didn't think this through--" "You really didn't." Fred agreed before launching the snowball at you. It hit you and you grumbled, grabbing a handful of snow, throwing it at him. "What about me--" snow hit Fred. "Telling you that you're cute--" you threw another snowball at him. "Is unfair!?" He asked, dodging the latest attempt of a throw. "Because it's like you expect me to give you some sort of answer back!" You huffed. "Well I was more expecting a peaceful interaction!" He said, dodging another snowball. "I don't experience attraction to people I don't know you idiot!" You snapped. He paused. "Wait what--" snow hit his face. "I don't play well with others Fred, you should know this. You know more about me than I know about you! Stop expecting some sort of reaction from me when I barely know you!" You yelled. "I didn't know that considering when we first met you seemed awfully fixated on me!" He said. You blinked. "Wait you thought... No-- Fred I had never seen someone 6'3 before. Compared to my short ass you're a giant-- I was gaping at the height difference!" You admitted making him blink. "Though I could see how that could be mistaken for attraction... I'm so sorry Fred--" Fred snorted before laughing hard.

You blinked at his reaction to the rejection. "...Are you laughing?" You asked. "Yes! Oh my God that's hysterical!" He wheezed. "...Was this a prank--" "Merlin's Beard-- No! But out of all of the reasons a girl has locked her sights on me, my height was not an expected answer!" He admitted while laughing. You tried to bite back a smile before laughing. He smiled as he heard a true laugh from you for the first time. After you finally stood up straight, you extended your hand. "Friends?" You asked. "Alright Y/n. Friends. But the second you feel even the SLIGHTEST attraction to me, please let me know, I'm dying here." Fred said earning a chuckle. "Alright. Alright." You nodded.

"So... Do friends get to meet the tall men standing behind you or should I scram?" Fred asked making you turn around and jump. "who is this boy and why were you holding his hand?" Regulus asked. "We were just--" "Coming up with a handshake dad." You answered quickly. "...Like a secret club thing or--" "Yes!" Both you and Fred nodded in unison. "See, I figured we go with the one from The Parent Trap but she's insisting we go with the one from Boy Meets World." Fred lied. "...Like Shawn and Cory's?" Sirius asked, earning a confused look from Regulus. "What? Me and James have too much free time." Sirius shrugged. "Clearly." Regulus said turning back to you. "Let's go to the Three Broomsticks. Get you something warm to drink, you look cold." Regulus said, wrapping his arm around you and walking. "I'll go find--" "Nope, kid you're coming with us. I want to hear honest answers from you." Sirius said, yanking Fred forward.

You sat at a table, Fred sitting across from you, Sirius and Regulus on either sides of you. "So who are you?" Regulus asked. "Fred Weasley sir." He answered. "Weasley? One of  Molly's sons?" Regulus asked. "Yes sir, I'm a twin, in fact--" "Freddieee what in God's green earth are you doing over here?" George asked, sitting down next to Fred. "Well--" "Making a good impression on Y/n's Dad eh? Asking for his blessing?" George nudged earning a facepalm from Fred. "Y/n... Care to elaborate?" Regulus asked. "No- No I can." Fred sighed, his head in his hand as he rose the other to speak. "I like your daughter sir. She's aware of that but we're just friends." Fred assured. Regulus's eye twitched. "I fucked up didn't I?" George whispered to Fred. "Royally brother. Royally." Fred said with a sigh. George gave a smile to the men, it being slightly deranged as he was clearly screaming internally as he bolted out the shop.  "My daughter... Who's two years below you?" Regulus said. "We-well--" "My daughter. Who is not only two years below you but is also in a separate house as you--" "Dad, come on." You sighed. "My daughter?! Really?!" Regulus asked. "Regulus... Breathe. Y/n's grown. Plus she could do worse. Remember that Goyle kid?" Sirius reminded. Regulus let out a long sigh and you looked at Fred. "Look. Dad. Fred's a good guy. Let's face it here, he's probably the best outcome." You shrugged. Fred gave you a shocked look. "What?" You asked. "Nothing I just... Didn't expect that. I thought you weren't interested." He shrugged. "I never said I wasn't. I just said you misread things. Which you did." You shrugged. "Not. A. Good. Conversation. To. Have. In. Front. Of. Dad." Regulus groaned.

"Calm down dad. It's okay. Let's just change the subject!" You suggested. "How's school going?" Sirius asked. "Fine." You said as a waitress sat butterbeers down in front of everyone. "Is everything fine?" Sirius asked Fred. Fred looked at you and then Sirius. "Yes." He answered. Sirius rose a brow. "Regulus, why don't you go with Y/n and get to know her other friends, I'm noticing six different veins showing here." Sirius sighed. It wasn't long before he got up and left, Fred unsure if he should move.

"Uhm should I--" "What is she not telling us Frederick?" Sirius said. Fred swallowed looking down. "It's the rumors. They tend to really bother her." Fred admitted. "Rumors?" Sirius asked. "About her... And you... And her heritage." Fred admitted. Sirius sighed, running a hand over his face. "I knew it." Sirius sighed. "Can I ask a question?" Fred asked. "Yes, some of the rumors are true." Sirius sighed. "Then... Her grandparents are--" "cruelhearted people. What are you getting at boy?" Sirius asked. "N-nothing, I just... Will she be alright?" Fred asked. "What?" Sirius asked. "Will she be alright? The rumors seem to really bother her I just want to know if she'll be fine sir--" You really care about her, don't you?" Sirius asked. Fred took a deep breath. "I do." he nodded. "And you know that she can't experience attraction to someone she doesn't know? That she needs time to experience that attraction and then decide?" Sirius asked. "I learned that today, but yes." Fred nodded. Sirius sat back in his seat and sighed. "Regulus is all bark, kid. You'll be fine." Sirius said. Fred let out  a little breath of relief but Sirius yanked him forward by his shirt. "But if you hurt my niece, my brother will be the least of your worries." Sirius said to him. Fred's eyes widened. "Do you understand me, boy?" Sirius asked, his voice very low. Fred nodded and Sirius let go. "Now..." Sirius began. Fred geared up for another dark conversation. "Tell me about yourself." Sirius said. "Uhhh... Okay?"

"Think you might like the boy later?" Regulus asked. You looked over at your father. "I don't know yet dad" You answered, your sights returning to the window. Regulus sighed. "If he invited you for Christmas... Would you want to go?" Regulus asked. "He's not going home for Christmas dad." You answered. "Why?" Regulus asked. "His parents are visiting his brother again." you answered. "I see..." He said before letting out a long sigh. "So all of his siblings are stuck at the school? Including that friend of yours? Ginny?" Regulus asked. "Uhm... Yeah. Well not Ron... He's hanging out with Uncle Prongs and Aunt Lily with Harry." You answered. Regulus sighed and you looked over. "Why?" You asked. "Invite them." Regulus sighed. "What?" You asked. "Invite them over. You're making friends Y/n, that's good. So invite them." Regulus told you. "But what if your mother comes--" "Then I'll rely on those two boys to cause trouble... I've heard stories." He shrugged. You looked out the window at the Three Broomsticks. "Alright.. I'll be right back. " You said.

You walked back in to Sirius and Fred laughing and joking with each other. "Hi guys." You said sitting down. "Ayee! Y/n, nice of you to join!" Sirius said with a laugh. "What's got you all giddy?" You asked. "Exchanging mischief stories." Fred chuckled. You smiled. "What brings you back in here?" Sirius asked. "Dad has invited the Weasley's over for the holidays. all of them." You answered, earning a shocked look from both of them. "I'll let mum know where we'll be." Fred said after a while. "Cool." You shrugged, getting back up and walking back.

So there they all stood, the estate being more massive than expected. "I don't recall hearing this estate being so.." "Off with their heads?" George suggested. Fred nodded and Ginny rung the doorbell. The door immediately opened to a house elf. "Mistress Black, your guests have arrived." Kreacher announced. You walked over. "Thank you Kreacher, go get some cocoa from the kitchens, you look absolutely freezing." You said to him. "I'm not permitted to--" "Kreech. What have we talked about?" You asked. He sighed and nodded, walking away to the kitchens. You pulled back the door and sighed. "Welcome!" You finally said. "This place is huge!" Ron gaped making you raise a brow. "I thought you were with Harry?" You said confused. "I am." Ron said, Harry raising his hand. "I thought you were with Uncle--" "HE ISSS!" James shouted, scooping you up into a hug. "Gah! Aunt Lily-- help-- breathing--" "James, release the poor girl." Lily's voice said. James let go as they all walked in. "Why are you all here?" You asked. "Your father invited us." Remus' voice said. You perked up. "UNCLE MOONY!" You squealed, jumping into the man's arms. Fred smiled at your excitement. "They're here!" Regulus called and Sirius popped out from behind a door. "MY GUYS!" Sirius said, nearly tackling James down into a hug. "Where is Wormtail?" Sirius asked. "He's--" "Here!" Peter emerged. You were nearly knocked down by the sudden group hug from the men and you rolled your eyes. "alright, you guys, you're with me." You said to the group that wasn't the Marauders. They all followed you with their bags and you escorted them to their rooms. "And Ginny, you'll stay in my room." You finished, the group still reeling from the size of the house. "I know it's a little large... But if it helps, we sometimes take in the homeless." You admitted.

Jesus. A good heart and a beautiful face, could you get any better? "Kreacher makes really good food too. But I was thinking we make some holiday cookies, what do you say Fred?" You asked him, Fred looking at you surprised. "...Yeah sure." Fred nodded. "Explore you guys! Seriously, as long as you don't break anything we'll be fine." you said to the group before nodding for Fred to follow. He did, walking with you and looking around, seeing the family portraits on the wall. Fred stopped, staring at a beautiful woman. "Who's this?" He asked. You turned around and smiled softly. "My mother. Persephone." You said. "Is she..." Fred asked, recalling that he never saw your mother. "She passed away in my first year." You said. Fred looked at that face. You seemed sad but you sucked in a breath, walking down the hall. You walked down the stairs but stopped when you saw Luna and her father. "Luna!" You gasped, rushing down the stairs and hugging your friend. Fred followed and Neville walked in as well. "What on earth are you doing here!?" You asked the two of them. "Your father invited us!" Neville answered. "Lovely home you have Y/n!" Neville's mother said. You smiled. "Kreacher!" You called. The house elf walked over. "Would you mind showing the parents around? There's a galleon in it for you!" you said. "Miss Y/n, there is no need for payment." Kreacher said. "Kreeeeaachherr." You sighed. "Be more flexible. Understood ma'am-- Y/n." Kreacher stuttered making you smile. "Right this way Mr. Lovegood, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom." He said, escorting them off. "Me and Luna are going to the library, see you at dinner?" Neville asked. "Yep." You nodded before walking off. Fred opened his mouth "Fred, come on!" You called, still walking.

You opened the door, walking into the kitchen. "ever bake cookies before?" You asked, rummaging through a cupboard.  "Uhm, a couple of times with my mum, Y/n no offense but... Why am I here?" Fred asked. You sighed, pulling out a bowl. " I want to get to know you Fred." You answered. "...Oh. Oh! okay!" He nodded. "There's cookie mix next to you. Can you get it please?" You asked. He grabbed the box, and walking over. "SO. Your childhood. What was it like?" You asked. "Uhm... Nice. My mum is a stay at home mum and my dad works for the ministry, he knows your dad actually." he answered. "How many brothers do you have?" you asked. "Well there's Bill, he's nice you'd probably like him, then there's Charlie, Dragon obsessed, Percy, stick is constantly shoved up his arse, then there's George, you know him, Ron, super whiny but we love him, and the one sister is Ginny." he listed. "lot of siblings." You noted. "Oh yeah. Never a dull moment with us." he chuckled. "Are you an only child?" Fred asked. "Yes. Though I think my grandparents are still praying my dad finds a nice Pureblood to marry to 'fix our lineage." You said. "... Was your mother not a pureblood?" he asked. "No, she was a muggle." you answered. "Hmm. Grandparents didn't like that?" He asked. "they loathe my existence." You answered. "I'm sure--" "No Fred. They loathe me." You said, looking at him. He blinked a couple of times, noticing the pain in your eyes.

Fred cleared his throat and you sighed. "Sorry, it's just... They might be coming this year. And if they do..." You shook your head. "What do you want to do with your life?" You asked. Fred noticed the sudden change in subject. "Uhm. Well I know it sounds dumb but I want to run a shop with my brother. Which I'm already doing... technically." Fred answered. "Oh the underground joke shop?" You asked. "You know about that, eh?" He asked. "Gryffindors tend to use the items on us. So yes." You answered, dumping the mix into the bowl. "Ever been used on you?" He asked, slightly concerned. "Once, but it was actually funny. Neville wanted to wake me up so I hadn't slept so he used an exploding ink pen next to me so the noise would wake me up." You chuckled. He smiled, you cracking a couple of eggs. "My dad is my best friend. I might give him a hard time but I know he loves me." You said. "What was... Your mother like?" He asked. You stopped for a second. "Sorry--" "No it's okay I'm just thinking of a good way to describe her." You admitted. "She was kind. A bit of a goofball but that's why dad liked her." You answered. Fred noticed the sincere smile you had. You favored your mother, the way you had that same soft smile as the woman in the portrait

"You have her smile." He said without thinking. You looked over, slightly surprised by his observation. "...Dad agrees." You said before turning back to the bowl. You heard the door open and you rose a brow. "Expecting more guests?" Fred asked. "No... Unless-" "Where is that useless house elf!?" You heard. Your face dropped and you swallowed. Fred noticed that look. Pure terror.

"Mother?" You heard your father say. "There you are. Don't you know that there is a use for a house elf?" She replied. "...Right. let me see if I can find him." He said before walking into the kitchen. "Back door. Now." He said to you. You nodded, grabbing Fred's hand. "Where are we-" "SHH!" you and regulus hushed before you opened a back door, walking out of the house. You dragged Fred with you, walking as fast as you could before running into Neville. "Y/n? Why'd you take the backdoor?" He asked. "My grandparents are here." You said. He winced and Fred looked over. "No- Mother I really think you should lie down!" You heard Regulus said say. "Fuck!" You sighed. You pulled out your wand, grabbing Neville and Fred before Apparating to your room and locking the door.

"....Wait a damn minute, only Seventh years should know how to do that." Neville said. Ginny and Luna looked up. "She reads ahead in her textbooks." Luna said. You sighed. "We heard your grandmother downstairs so we came up here." Ginny said. You sighed, running a hand over your face. Fred looked over at you and put a hand on your shoulder. "Y/n it's alright-" "Dad is stuck with them!" You realized. Ginny stood up. "What do you want us to do?" She asked. You pondered before sighing. "I'll be back."

Regulus looked around the halls as Sirius was walking around with James. Regulus yanked him back. "Mum and Dad are here." He said. Sirius frowned. "James, we need to make ourselves scarce." Sirius said. "Yeah I saw Walburga." James said. "Have you seen Y/n?" Regulus asked. "Pst!" You whispered making all the men jump. You took off the invisibility cloak. "Here, you'll need it more than me." You said, handing it off to Sirius. "What about you?" He asked. "Don't worry about me. I just learned to apparate, I'm okay. You however need to leave, my suggestion is that you go to the gardens behind the house, you at least wouldn't be too bored." You said.

Lily walked out of her room confused. "Why are you all standing around?" She asked. "Mother and father are here." Sirius said. "Yes, why do you have the invisibility cloak?" She asked. "To leave!" Sirius said. "Oh for Godric's sake!" She sighed. "Look, you both will have to see them at dinner-" "Lily no offense but you have parents who love you. I don't. You don't understand how it feels. You never will." Sirius said. "They loathe our existence. But Aunt Lily does make a good point..." You muttered. "You mean-" "We were here first. If anything we can... Just kick them out if they act out." You muttered. Everyone gaped. "Y/n, do you hear yourself?" Sirius asked. "... It's better than hiding." You said.

Fred popped his head out from the door. "Y/n, we good?" He asked. "....Yeah." you muttered. Neville, Fred, Luna and Ginny stepped out. You sighed again, already seeming exhausted. Luna put her arm around you. "You've got us Y/n. We're going make those cookies!" Luna said. "Wait wha-" before you knew it Neville and the group was dragging you off to the kitchen.

"ALRIGHT! WHERE WERE WE!?" Fred asked. You chuckled, lifting the half stirred batter in the bowl. Ginny snorted.  Kreacher sighed, cracking his neck as he walked by and you noticed a red mark. You set down the bowl. "Kreacher, are you alright?" You asked. "Yes ma'am." He said. "Kreacher." You said. He sighed. "Mrs. Black reprimanded me for trying to help with her belongings." He said. You frowned. "She did what." You asked. "Miss Y/n it is fine--" "No Kreacher. It is not." You said. Fred looked at you. "What do you want to-" you exited the kitchen and Ginny looked over. "You guys, finish the cookies I'm going to stop a homicide." Fred said rushing after you.

You walked into the main hall before freezing at the sight of your grandmother and grandfather. She turned and scowled. "Oh. It's you." She said. You opened your mouth but nothing came out. "I-..." You struggled to speak. Fred soon arrived next to you. "Who are you?" Orion asked. "Fred Weasley. Y/n, we should-" "Weasley?" Walburga asked. "Yes." He sighed. You swallowed. "... Don't hit Kreecher again." You finally said. They turned to you. "Excuse me?" Walburga asked. Fred shot you a look. You were shaking but still you stuck with your guns. "Kreacher is here to assist you. H-he's not a punching bag." You said. Walburga scowled and Fred cleared his throat. "I'm a twin by the way!" He said.

You looked over at him. "Yep. George is skulking around here somewhere! Looks exactly like me! He 'says' he's the older one by five minutes but that's totally false." He said. "what is this bloody idiot going on about?" Orion asked. "Well that was all we needed to say! Off we go!" Fred said, dragging you off.

When you returned to the kitchen you sighed. "I am a child." You sighed. "You were terrified!" Fred said. "Well at least I told them." You said. "Barely. But yes you did." Fred nodded. Kreacher sighed. "Miss Y/n, that really was not necessary. I know they frighten you." He said. You shook your head. "Kreacher you help us all the time. I just... I don't like to see you hurt." You said. Fred blinked, looking at you. Kreacher nodded. "...This may sound out of line... May I have some tea?" He asked. "Oh! Sure. Earl grey?" You asked. He nodded and you walked off. Kreacher poked Fred for his attention. Fred kneeled to him and Kreacher whispered. "Please keep Mistress Y/n safe. She's a good woman." He said. Fred nodded and you turned around with the tea. "Kreacher your tea is ready." You said softly. He nodded, taking the small cup and sipping it. "No one makes it like you do Miss." He said with a small smile. You chuckled. "Thanks Kreach." You said with a smile.

Dinner creeped upon you, everyone changing into better clothes. You sat between Ginny and Fred, sipping on water and staring off into space as your father spoke. Sirius constantly readjusted his tie. "Sirius, you can take it off you know." Regulus said. "It is proper to-" immediately Sirius took it off, staring at his father as he did. You tensed up, looking at Regulus. "beautiful home you have Mr. Black." Arthur said to him. "Thank you Arthur. Designed it myself." He said with a smile. "Really?" Molly asked. "Oh yes. You know there's quite a few secrets in these walls, you just have to look around." He said. "Secrets?" Alice asked. "we have a secret study." You said. Regulus smiled. "Is that it?" George asked. "Oh no. There's the training room, the pool, the game room and..." You cleared your throat. "the... Art room." You said. Fred rose a brow but Ginny chuckled. "Say... Who was the portrait of in the hallway?" Frank asked.

Every family member tensed as Walburga slammed down her glass. "A disgrace." She said. You gripped the hem of your skirt. Fred looked over as did Arthur. "Y/n go to the other room." Regulus said. "No, I'm fine." You said. "She was a disgrace. And so is the child." "Mother we are trying to have a nice dinner-" "Honestly. Why her? Why? A muggle? Regulus we raised you better!" Orion said. "here we go." Sirius sighed, getting up and walking out with a flask. James trailed after and Peter looked at you. "Are you okay?" He mouthed. You shrugged but Kreacher almost entered, you shaking your head to let him know that now was a horrible time.

He stepped back and Walburga continued. "Your daughter isn't even living up to our name! She is hanging around these people, she is spending time with mudbloods, God only knows what she's doing at school!" Walburga said. Fred glared at Ginny looked at you. "She is a disgrace, just like her mother" "stop." You muttered, so low that only Fred heard you. "Just come home Regulus, this is a fruitless attempt at adulthood." Orion sighed. "Excuse me, but that is my daughter you are talking about!" Regulus said. "She doesn't have our blood Regulus, she will always be a half-blooded-" "SHUT. UP." Fred said, everyone looking at him. "Excuse me?" She asked. "Fred." You halted. "Y/n is one of the kindest people I know. She's patient, she's smart and she's a beautiful human being, if you had half a fucking mind you'd see that! Instead you come into their home, you make them feel uncomfortable, you drove your own son away from the table, you had THIS conversation in front of guests and you acted as if you're above us all. How is it a family that isn't even noble has better manners and composure compared to actual nobles!?" Fred asked.

You gaped, Regulus blinking. "....Dad I think I'm gonna check on Sirius now." You said getting up. Fred sighed but you gripped his hand, forcing him to get up. You dragged Fred with you and he sighed. "Y/n I didn't mean to yell at your grandparents I just... I-" "I felt it." You said. He blinked. "What?" He asked. "....I felt an attraction to you. When you... Stood up for me." You said.  He stared at you. "....Fred?" You asked. He wasn't saying anything. "Fred? Are you okay-" "Can I kiss you or is that off limits?" He asked.

You blinked. "No, you can kiss me-" he slammed his lips against yours, you holding him close and him pulling away for air. "....That wasn't... Too much was it?" Fred asked. "No! No... Freddie that was perfect." You said softly. James walked out and sighed, causing you to immediately back away. "Your mother is yelling at Orion." James said. Fred rose a brow. "...Molly is what?" You asked.

You entered the dining room to see Molly yelling at the man and Luna eating a bread roll and talking to her father as if nothing happened. "AND FOR YOUR INFORMATION, Y/N IS THE BEST DAMN THING THAT'S HAPPENED TO THE BLACK FAMILY. SHE IS WORTH THE WORLD AND MORE." Molly defended. You smiled. "I will not be spoken to in this manner-" "Then leave." You said. Everyone turned to them. Orion glared, as did Walburga. "Excuse me?" She asked. "Then. Leave. You will not come into my father's house and yell at him for his life choices, make me feel inferior or make our other guests feel uncomfortable. Sit down, shut up or LEAVE." You said. Orion reached for his wand but found it missing, Kreacher now standing at your side. "Your bags have already been removed from the premises." He said. Fred looked at them. "Get. Out." You said.

Sirius leaned against the doorway. "You heard the woman." Sirius said. They huffed, getting up and leaving. The second the front door closed you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. "Y/n, are you alri-" you picked up the bottle of wine, uncorking it and drinking it. "I've earned this, don't even start." You halted your father. "...I was going to offer a glass..." He said. "Nope." You said before continuing. Fred attempted to grab your hand away from the bottle but you smacked it before finishing the entire bottle. "She learned that from you." Regulus said to Sirius. "Damn right she did." Sirius chuckled. "Are we continuing this dinner?" You asked. "Yep, Neville finished the cookies." Ginny said. "Nice! I love his baking!" you said, sitting down. Kreacher walked but you halted him. "Why don't you join us Kreach?" You asked. "Oh yes! do join us!" Regulus nodded. "But who's going to get-" "Oh I'll do it! I wanna know if there's any secrets in the kitchen!" Ginny said. "But-" "Kreacher" You and your father chuckled.  

Dinner continued, you all laughing at jokes and sharing stories. Eventually they all dispersed and you stood on the back patio with your father, leaning on the railing. "They were wrong you know... My parents." Regulus said. You looked over. "You and your mother were the best things that ever happened to this family. Don't ever second guess that." Regulus told you. "I know dad." you said. He chuckled, hugging you with one arm. "So, that kiss." Regulus said. You turned red. "W-what!?" You asked. "James caught you." Regulus said. "Oh Godric's balls- Dad I love you but I'm never having this conversation with you." You sighed. "Alright alright!" Regulus chuckled. "...Was it bad?" He asked. "Dad!" You whined. "Whattttt? I wanna know just a little information!" He sighed. "Nope, nope- I'm out, bye dad, love you!" you said, walking out.

You walked down to the study noticing the false wall had been opened. You swallowed. You hadn't been in there since...

You walked in and found Fred looking out the window. "it was your mum's right?" Fred asked. "What?" you asked. "This room? The art room? You got quiet when it was mentioned earlier and I thought maybe this was the study... But judging by the paint... I was wrong." he said. "Yeah... Mum was... She was something else." you said. Fred looked over with a small smile. "Y/n, you really do make us all proud.  and.. If you'll let me I'd love to watch you succeed from the sidelines as... More than a friend." He said. "like.. Boyfriend?" "Yep." He nodded. "Boyfriend." You said. "me." "Girlfriend." "You." He said. "Hmm. I think I like that Weasley." you said. "Really?" Fred asked. "Absolutely. Plus you defended my honor, that kind of says boyfriend." you said. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, looking out at your friends through a window.

Regulus sighed, leaning on the patio. "She's growing up." Sirius said. "I know." Regulus sighed. "She's become quite the woman." Sirius said. "I know." Regulus said. "She looks more and more like her mother every day." He said. "Absolutely. Same personality too." Regulus said. "Not quite." Sirius said.

You walked out with Fred, laughing at something he said. "That spark of hers is all you brother." Sirius said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Regulus smiled watching you as you stole Neville's hat and ran, laughing at Neville scooped you up and took it back. "She is indeed my daughter." Regulus said softly. Sirius smiled, watching you. "What are you two doing?" Lily asked. "Watching the coolest girl in the world." Sirius said. You threw snow at Harry who returned the favor.

You built this family, you made it better. You were a force of nature that was strong but built to withstand even the toughest of storms. You had this love for everyone that was backed by your fierce need to protect. Many paint a negative picture of the Slytherin house. But when another Slytherin looks at themselves they see someone who is quick on their feet and is very protective over their own. To others they see snakes. To them they see people who have the resilience of a snake. They are strong. They are tough. And if you try to come near them they have a venomous bite.  

But by no means are they heartless.

And you are a beautiful example of that.

[popurikat]

Ruin Teresa Agnes career. Aka: the Teresa analysis. Take all the time you need >:3

Okay I’m saying this right off the bat in case someone who stans this character misses the point above, but well I hate Teresa Agnes’ character in the maze series, both movie and book. However, in my analysis I will try to explain why her character misses the mark both as a villain and as a sympathetic character. So, to analyze her in depth, I’m putting this into parts under the read below. HEADS UP! As of now this analysis will exclude Death Cure Novel review as I have not finished that one, though it will mention one major spoiler I have been informed of from that book that I need to add for the sake of her character; other than that I will be discussing the other three novels before it (yes that is including the prequel Fever code) and the three movies from the series in broad ideas as I am not about to scavenge for quotes like I did in my last long post… well at least not as many.

Part 1: Teresa the master manipulator

No matter which way you look at it, Teresa has a way to bend others to her will, whether we blame WCKD for teaching her so well; or she used it as a means of survival, the idea still stands. Though she is extremely skilled in combat, especially at using spears and knives, Teresa’s biggest skill is her silver tongue, she can lie her way out of anything. Most evident is her betrayal in Scorch when she has such a good poker face that she not only convinces group B that Thomas is the problem they have to eradicate to get WCKD’s good side, but she also doesn’t hesitate to maim Thomas to the point of threatening to kill him: “Get in the room or I’ll hit you again. I swear I’ll keep doing it till you pass out or bleed to death” (Ch. 51). /sarcasm/ Charming ain’t she? /end of sarcasm/ The thing about lying though is that sometimes it backfires, for instance in the case of Group B, Harriet and Sonya hear Thomas out on why they shouldn’t kill him like Teresa asked, and when they listen and observe him they realize that Teresa is the worst and side with him; which in turn makes Teresa have to take drastic measures which involve getting Thomas alone with her to finish her duties to WCKD. Anyways, she even goes as far as to cement her betrayal by kissing Aris and crushing Thomas’ feelings by saying they were never a thing; she does this mind you without so much as breaking this character she builds up even though later she tries to say she still cares for Thomas. She is so convincing that Thomas has stated that: “Thomas had never heard such arrogance from her. She was either a really good actress or had started going crazy. Gained a split personality or two” (Ch. 45, Scorch). So yes, Teresa is too good at lying to the point I can say she can align as a Pathological Liar because she’s deceptive, goal-oriented in order to get HER way meaning she will not tolerate anyone interfering with her methods, she disregards the feelings of everyone around her, and she is constantly tweaking her excuses to adjust to the situations at hand. She is so good at lying she oozes self confidence when elaborating her defense by staring directly at the person she is talking to, unblinking, and will lash out in defense if someone calls her out on any inconsistencies. 

Mind you this isn’t the first instance we get at how well she turns the story to her favor. In Fever Code, she is the one to help put the Gladers in the maze and erase Thomas’ memories, which transfers in Maze Runner with how she openly gaslights everyone by pretending she doesn’t remember much about WCKD’s doings even though her memories are the only ones implied to be in tact based on that email she wrote in Fever Code: “I’ve just said my goodbye to Thomas, and he’s now in the Glade, safe and sound. Tomorrow, it will be my turn. Dr. Paige has asked me to send a final note to everyone, sharing my thoughts. I’m more than happy to do so. I feel good about the plan to leave my and Aris’s memories intact. You need someone in each group with whom you can communicate and plan during the phases of the Trials”(FC epilogue) and also based on this specific tid bit in Maze Runner where she slips she knows more than she lets on: “Though I guess a Griever can’t squeeze through this window, so I’ll be happy, right?” The mention of Grievers surprised him -- he didn’t remember talking about them to her yet. ‘Teresa are you sure you’ve forgotten everything?”(Ch.37, pg.246). Griever knowledge in general for Teresa in Maze seems to be code talk for “I am here to cause trouble, I kept my memories'' because during the sequence with the fiasco with the invasion of the species in Group A’s field, Teresa casually wakes up after the event’s commotion subsides earning Newt’s suspicion that maybe the map fire was not done on accident. Anyways, in keeping things down low and having an advantage in memory recollection, she ensures Thomas and co. don’t recall events correctly unless it's vital to her mission. And yes, Teresa will use violence and anger if necessary; she is perfectly fine with murder...”So we’re just going to kill them all? [...] They’ll die anyway [...] No, Tom, It’s be tough now or everyone dies later”(Ch. 47, Fever Code). Or even this small aside on her stance on death overall: “This is kind of fun,’ Teresa whispered to Thomas. ‘Walking along with my new friend.’ He looked at her in bemused disbelief. ‘Really? You drop that bombshell about kids dying and now you act like it’s no big deal? You’re so weird.’ He tried to make a joke out of it to hide just how horrified he’s been by her second question” (Ch. 9, pg. 55, FC). And she has killed, mind you, yes they were cranks, but they are still humanly conscious. Thomas in comparison shows pity about the fact that they were still human, Teresa didn’t bat an eye. And now, you might say “Hey Popuri, you know, she’s just willing to kill if it means saving everyone else right?” to which I go, sure she’s stated that if it means saving the rest it doesn’t matter if thousands or so die. However, she is also clear that she only cares about Thomas’ survival in specific, no one else; which immediately gets falsified by her “lie” in Scorch, thus she will kill anyone if need be no matter how close they are. What I’m saying is that not even Teresa has a clear path in why she manipulates everyone when she can so easily be convinced to make elaborate murder scenarios at the snap of WCKD’s fingers. She claims it's to save her “crush” but will not hesitate to shed his blood and drag him across the desert. 

She claims it's to help WCKD, that WCKD is good, but she has bore witness time and time again that the facility makes countless errors and knows there's no REAL cure available … and Teresa is a smart kid, so why continue believing a hopeless façade? Because she's desperate to cling to some hope? No. Teresa doesn’t do the whole hope thing, she's convinced WCKD is good period, there's nothing else. So, even if there is no evidence anymore she will fight tooth and nail for something she herself is trapped in because no one will want to be there for the girl who treated her only connections as poorly as WCKD treated her. Therefore, is it because she can’t help it then? I can only imagine that's the case. She’s willingly this puppet for WCKD, she could’ve escaped them any time she liked like Thomas and co. did, but she prefers to stay on the burning train even if it means her own demise because she refuses to admit any of her actions were wrong, the truth will NOT set her free because she cannot confront it. 

Moving forward, I wanna delve more into the whole telepathy dealio she specifically shares with Thomas and we actually never really learn if she can talk to others as she evades the question when it does arrive in book. The only certain thing is that if you have a chip, you can talk using your mind. Now this would be a fine plot device, but in the hands of someone who wants to control your every move and thought, well....”Thomas, this is Teresa. He was going crazy. He was actually going crazy. It was the oldest and most common symptom -- hearing voices in your head. ‘Uh...’, he said aloud. Is this working? Is this working? The last words landed between his eyes like a thunderbolt. The pain knocked his legs out from under him and he collapsed onto the floor. Never had the world felt so fluid beneath him, as if nothing solid existed, no form, no substance“ (Ch.20 , pg. 112, FC). So first things first, Thomas hates it when he gets a mind message, he feels extreme pain when someone tries it, this is recurrent throughout the series. He has told her a few times not to contact him through that method, but it's their little secret and besides, if he told anyone who would believe him? “Teresa shrugged. ‘You didn’t tell anyone, did you? They’d think we’re crazy“(Ch.36, Maze Runner). So we have a situation where Teresa has a huge way of overpowering Thomas, she can send images to his head without his consent and yell into his mind even if it means it hurts him. And the kicker? She doesn’t teach him how to use it on purpose. And when he tries to contact her? Well depending on her mood she can either be flirty or... well this: “Teresa? A pause. Teresa? A longer pause. Teresa! He shouted it mentally, his whole body tensing with effort. Teresa! Where are you? Please answer me! Why aren’t you trying to contact me? Ter- /GET OUT OF MY HEAD!/ The words exploded inside his mind, so vivid and so strangely audible within his skull that he felt lances of pain behind his eyes and in his ears. He sat up in bed, then stood. It was her. It was definitely her. Teresa? He pressed the first two fingers of both hands against his temples. Teresa? /WHOEVER YOU ARE , GET OUT OF MY SHUCK HEAD!/ Thomas stumbled backward until he sat down once again on the bed. His eyes were closed as he concentrated. Teresa, what are you talking about? It’s me. Thomas. Where are you? /SHUT UP!/ It was her, he had no doubt, but her mental voice was full of fear and anger /JUST SHUT UP! I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE! LEAVE ME ALONE!/ But, Thomas began completely at a loss [...] /LEAVE ME ALONE, OR I’LL HUNT YOU DOWN AND CUT YOUR THROAT. I SWEAR IT. “ (Ch.8, FC). *sarcasm* ah yes, nothing says true love like a death threat that actually comes to near fruition later in that same book and pretending to not know that person only to later, upon meeting Thomas acting like a sobbing mess, kiss him and disappear...she sure knew him then huh? *end of sarcasm* Having a power imbalance in a relationship is, you know, not good, especially when you’re making it so you gaslight the person anytime they know something you don’t want them to or to have control over the situation. Teresa does this OFTEN. To the point that it makes Thomas so emotionally attached to her he finds it hard to admit he doesn’t need her, even when he’s been badly hurt. 

 Part 2: Your past does not excuse your bad actions in the present. Period.

Now let me clear something up, PAST ABUSE does not CONDONE you to HURT OTHERS in turn, let alone allows you to use it as an excuse to justify wrong actions. I am aware Teresa, aka Deedee, was abandoned due to an outbreak of the flare at an early age; had her name changed, was confined to a room with Thomas as her only friend who was the same age as her, and openly manipulated by adults to believe WCKD is good. But you know who else goes through the same treatment? LITERALLY EVERY KID EXPOSED TO THIS EXPERIMENT! AND THEY DON’T THREATEN EACH OTHER IF THEY DON’T GET THEIR WAY OR KILL EACH OTHER. And this is not said in order to justify that everyone with the same experiences will have the same reactions, I understand stressors and trauma affect everyone differently and acknowledge everyone needs a different support system. But like, for peeps sake, Thomas who is Teresa’s exact foil as a narrative play to show that they are more alike than they realize which is the flimsiest proof to grab at as to why they need each other to an extent; literally has the exact same story cut and paste from her and he has more empathy and compassion to those around him, than Teresa ever shows. WHY? If the idea is to show Teresa has hardened from her own experiences, she should in theory act more like Brenda, a renegade civilian that isn’t soft for anyone except the boy who will save her. I know in my explanation I compare Thomas and Teresa a lot, but it's hard not to when Teresa, though having Aris as another buddy who is also in on the whole WCKD scheme, still decides to CLING to Thomas to be her saving grace. And the thing is, even if she only ever trusted Thomas in this whole experiment, then why not confide in him or tell him what is happening? She doesn’t LISTEN to anything he says to her in turn. YES, Teresa knows more about the situation as a whole, YES she is capable of doing things by herself, but she never trusts anyone. You’d think she would be more open to talking to the kids her age or be the quiet type because she knows what will happen to them all if they don’t comply; but no, I can’t even describe her personality other than stoic one moment and complete chaos in the next, and she does that switch VERY often. But sure, she prefers to skew half truths and put everyone in danger because ….WCKD? She’s supposed to be the intellectual one and she doesn’t know how to spread her capabilities, no wonder Brenda is introduced in the second book.

It's also incomprehensible to me why she feels it necessary to follow WCKD in general when she was the first to know of all their evil doings? “They were at the door when Teresa stopped and asked Dr. Leavitt a question. Two, actually. And it was enough to change the man’s demeanor completely. ‘What’s a swipe trigger? And is it true that seven kids died during the implant surgeries?’ The questions stunned Thomas. He turned to look at Teresa as the doctor fumbled for an answer. ‘How...’ the man began, then stopped, realizing at the same moment what Thomas did: Teresa had stumbled on something major. Something true”(Ch. 9, pg.54, FC). You’d think she would have the maturity to one up WCKD and knock them from the inside out to save the one she “loves'' but she doesn’t, instead she abides by the facility...even when knowing they are the ones who made the Flare in the first place. Call me naïve, but wouldn’t it make sense that if she wants to help stop the Flare than it would be in her best interest to hold Ava at an inch of her life (and Ratman) until she fesses up how to reverse the Flare, only to then realize oops there never was a possibility for a cure ~, but in knowing this finally be rid of the one thing holding her back? Again, someone can argue that hey, she thinks the people who made it HAVE to eventually find the termination and either way what possible choice does she have when her own manipulators control her? But remember, in the end it's always been a huge experiment to eliminate the human populace, and that's motive enough to rebel and/or snap at the hand that feeds when it's gone too far. EVERYONE has a breaking point mentally and physically, THOMAS BREAKS DOWN SEVERAL TIMES IN THE SPAN OF THE SERIES BECAUSE HE CAN’T MAKE SENSE OF THE EXPERIMENTS AND THE REASON TO CONTINUE SURVIVING ONLY ON WCKDS TERMS. And it drives me insane that Teresa would openly keep the Gladers from knowing about their procedures when she has known the longest from everyone else! Oh? You want evidence that Teresa keeps her memories intact and lies about ever losing them, sure! Here, have a morsel: “Teresa..., he started to say, but then stumbled a void. He had no idea how to respond. Did you....did you already know this stuff? /I’ve heard rumors./ And you never told me? He was stunned. How could she have known this and never said anything? She was his best friend. The first person he went to with everything. /I just don’t see the point. Yes, we have reason to hate these people. But how is dwelling on the past going to help anybody? The solution is what matters./ Thomas had never been so blindsided in his life.../I’m really tired, Tom. Can we talk about it tomorrow?/ She was gone from his mind before he could respond [...] The next day Teresa refused to talk about it, emphasizing that she’d rather focus on the future than the past Dr. Paige also blew it off, saying that those decisions had been made well before her time. it was almost like they were both determined to forget” (Ch. 43, pg. 239, FC). TALK ABOUT BECOMING THE ONE THING THAT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO OVERCOME. Like goodness sake, Teresa was part of the prep and launch of putting each Glader into the Maze and she never doubted it, never fussed over how this was bad. The excuse of “this is for their own good, my own good, and the world’s” can only go so far when you are in an environment that is full of violence and trauma, you expect me to not believe Teresa just never broke down and truly analyzed how she can use her lies to one up her own abusers? She’s supposed to be this “empowering” female character and she can’t even get THAT right. 

Part 3: How come the films did it better?

The film actually humanizes her a lot more and makes her motives at least justifiable in a fit of protecting the one you love. I know a lot of people dislike her character in the movies because it's more frail and sympathetic, but it was a very good way to justify her motives and plan out her actions from point A to point B. What do I mean by that? Let's take a look. Film Teresa enters the Maze without the ability to communicate to Thomas through telepathy, she still has her memories and she is still in close contact with WCKD, that much is still the same. Her motive though is to get everyone out of the maze and into stage 2 where the facility can round up the ones who have been viewed to be immune through the Maze Trials. So far so good, but pretty on par with the book right? Well, here is where it differs for the best. On the last act of Scorch, Teresa tells Thomas WITH SENTIMENT, no more lies and no more hiding that she contacted WCKD because it was needed to keep Thomas alive and well. WOW, notice how she doesn’t emotionally manipulate him and her innocent nature of trusting the scientists of her world to cure everyone actually leads her to be more sympathetic and relatable to the audience? In Death Cure, she doesn’t expect Thomas or ANYONE to forgive her for her actions and in fact takes her actions at face value. This Teresa is more understanding of the phrase “You can change, but those you’ve wronged have no obligation to forgive you” than book Teresa ever will. To the point that when she finds Thomas in the city and has bore witness to the startling realization that there indeed could be no cure cause her patient flares back up; of which is intentionally a little girl to reflect without showing that she can relate to the Flare stripping away her childhood, she then betrays WCKD by allowing the Gladers to infiltrate the facility, thus redeeming her when she dies in the explosion. Thus, making her in the film's eyes an anti-hero. As Skquill once told me, “Film teresa really did want to create a better future, and wanted to help people and that's what I like about film teresa. It didn't work. It literally blew up in her face. But, she tried, and she saved Thomas in the end.”

The only reason I don’t like Teresa even in the film is because she is kind of a wet blanket there, barely expresses any emotion beyond stoic token girl that cries sometimes, and she could’ve saved herself the whole betrayal arc if she just learned to better communicate her intentions instead of sobbing pathetically every time no one wants anything to do with her for her ill doings.Not to mention she still maintains her personality to a degree from the book (just call her diet Teresa really) because once both enter the sequence in Scorch where they ran out of pawns to move around they claim that they did what they had to do and they wouldn’t change a thing, they’d do it again if they could. It is only when both are at death’s door with no other choice that they give in some noble sacrifice at a chance for redemption, which is well too little too late. And in the opposing corner of knowing some people blame Thomas for not just allowing himself to be experimented on since the beginning, my rebuttal to be fair is that Teresa just again, sucked at explaining herself and the intentions of WCKD until it was deserving of a literal showdown bloodbath that evidently Tommy boy had to take defense to and threaten his life if anyone else died due to miscommunications. ALSO, IT'S HIS OWN BODY, HE CAN DO WHAT HE WANTS WITH IT INSTEAD OF HAVING OTHERS DICTATE WHAT HE NEEDS TO DO.

BUT ANYWAYS, book Teresa in comparison has even less characterization, I am sorry to say. SHE'S BARELY IN SCORCH AS IS, only coming out toward the climax because before that she is crying and kissing Thomas before going MIA for 45 chapters. Ouch. And when she does appear? She purposefully causes trouble that leads to essentially no where, we could’ve gotten to the safe haven way sooner without her interference.

Part 4: Is Book Teresa a good female character?

 The simple answer? No.

The slightly longer answer? Even if I were to place her as the villain of the story she’s...not that good? Mostly because again, she acts as a puppet for a rich, governmental organization that basically implants how she should think and act. YET, somehow she is still smart, brave, lethal, and *ahem* UNBELIEVABLY BEAUTIFUL WITH HER LONG HAIR THAT IS BASICALLY DESCRIBED THE EXACT SAME WAY AS BRENDA’S, WHO FYI IS THE SLIGHTLY BETTER FEMALE LEAD THAT STILL CAN’T HOLD A COIN TO SONYA OR HARRIET (the background characters) THOUGH. I also need to say plainly, she has no gradual growth, she remains by her ideals and thinks she's right constantly in all but one book...which is one book too late and thus made meaningless. By no means is Teresa a mary sue, yet she still manages to be a stereotype in Maze Runner: “If you’re going to decipher a hidden code from a complex set of different mazes, I’m pretty sure you’ll need a girl’s brain running the show”(ch.43); then again going most of the book in Scorch missing, and then unceremoniously gets crushed by a boulder in Death Cure as her final hurrah for all the bs she caused isn’t really a means to become a memorable character. This is the female supportive character I’m supposed to relate to and or praise for her dastardly, cunning intellect?  If I were looking for a strong female with various flaws and a tragic end I would saunter over to Hunger Games’ Katniss instead. Teresa fails as a character the moment that her sole purpose is to be so emotionally/physically attached to Thomas that her whole character gets washed down the gutter so badly that Kill Order had to be made to justify her actions through a tragic backstory. In no way or form was I able to entertain this character as a favorite because she is everything I don’t want to be or befriend, and even as again, a “villain” she doesn’t exactly do much as the real masterminds are Ava and her cronies who MADE the disease and the trials. Even going as far as calling her an anti-hero feels off because none of her actions deliberately affect the plot or progress of our main character’s story. But that's kind of the thing with D*shner’s characterization of females overall? They’re either brutish or simply there. I don’t think any of them even pass the Bechdel Test. 

Final thoughts:

I don’t like Teresa, I would personally fight her in a Denny’s parking lot at 3am if I could. I recall saying multiple times how she should just “shut up” as I read Maze and Scorch because most of her quotes are not memorable nor important. But in no way do I blame the character for the angst and tragedy of the novels overall. D*shner just...doesn’t seem to know how to make honest character growth and a decent plot, thus, in turn the story and its leads suffer tremendously as the narrative gets stretched out. (me yelling in the distance about how Crank Palace was made for clout). HOWEVER, In no way should my analysis stop people from finding Teresa as interesting or “cool”, I actually ENCOURAGE anyone that stans her to explain why to me because I personally don’t understand why beyond thinking “I just think she's chaotically evil and her treachery is fun to witness”. COOL IF THAT'S THE REASON OR EVEN IF YOU RE-WROTE HER TO BE BETTER! I just personally don't find her presence necessary for plot progression or as a love interest in general. It in fact sucks that she gets essentially replaced by Brenda almost as soon as the opportunity arises. In turn though, for others who don’t like her either as much as me, feel free to add onto this post any other “Teresa sucks and here's why” moments as I know there's a lot of moments out there to quote or paraphrase. Thanks for reading~

[potteresque-ire]

Is Cho Chang a Racist Stereotype? - [2] Her House

Another very long post (this time Confucius comes to say hello). My thoughts are under the cut.

Once again, this isn’t a JKR discussion. This is my 2nd post on whether I think it’s fair to call Cho Chang a racist stereotype. The 1st one is here.

My short answer is still no.

Another critique I’ve seen of Cho Chang’s portrayal is that she was a Ravenclaw, which fit into the “smart Asian” stereotype.

But what, exactly, is “Ravenclaw smart” and “Asian smart”? I think it’s worth investigating. Intelligence comes in many forms, and the allegation would only be valid if the two kinds of “smart” are equivalent.

Here’s what the books and JKR, via Pottermore, have said about “Ravenclaw smart”:

“if you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind;”

“Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.”

“…our people are the most individual – some might even call them eccentrics. But geniuses are often out of step with ordinary folk…” 

"Most of the greatest wizarding inventors and innovators were in our house…”

The day-to-day illustration of “Ravenclaw smart” was the answering of riddles to enter the common room. A good answer was “well-reasoned”, and it was known that the door would refuse to open until such an answer was provided, which sometimes led to long discussions outside the common room by the locked-out students. Another manifestation of “Ravenclaw smart” was described as going “full-nerd” on a subject that wasn’t necessarily practical or popular (ovomancy was the example given on Pottermore).

Since “wit” was such a heavily used word in Ravenclaw’s description, I looked up its definition as well.

* Intelligence and the ability to think quickly (Cambridge dictionary) * Mental sharpness and inventiveness; keen intelligence; a natural aptitude for using words and ideas in a quick and inventive way to create humour (Google) * The ability to relate seemingly disparate things so as to illuminate or amuse (Merriam Webster) * Wit is the ability to use words or ideas in an amusing, clever, and imaginative way. (Collins)

My understanding of “Ravenclaw smart” from this info is: the ability to connect dots freely and nimbly. Social norms and expectations are noted, but happily disregarded if they get in the way. “Ravenclaw smart” is by nature argumentative and open-ended. It expects the dot-connecting to lead to places, but doesn’t have a specific place in mind; all endpoints are valid and welcomed as long as they’re logically sound. The strength of “Ravenclaw smart” is it leads to revolutionary innovations; its tendency to unbridle itself from social needs and expectations, however, can lead to amoral/immoral behaviour (Lockhart). The wisdom from “Ravenclaw smart” is also in danger of being ignored or misunderstood when its owner makes insufficient effort to make it comprehensible, or accessible to others (Luna, and likely, Rowena Ravenclaw.)

Those who’ve studied under an East Asian education system (especially in the 90s), or those who’re familiar with those systems, probably know by now where this discussion is leading to.

“Ravenclaw smart” isn’t “Asian smart”. It’s … about the opposite of Asian smart.

What is “Asian smart”? Outside this discussion, any kind of intelligence. But here, I’ll restrict it to the kind of smartness that leads to the racist allegation, the kind of Westerners typically associate with East Asian students (such as Cho Chang, who, for the sake of simplicity, I’ll assume is Chinese from this point on; however, the arguments will likely still stand if she was, for example, Korean, for reasons that will be clear later on). The kind of smartness that is good at math, that gets the highest scores in exams and seems to understand everything. Never asks questions, never makes trouble.

"Asian smart” sounds great. But what if I suggest the following “dark sides” to it?

1) Good at math: with practice, lower level maths are likely to require the least reasoning among school subjects, with their unambiguous, close-ended answers. A child who has done 7x9 enough times no longer need to calculate or think through the logic of their answer. They write down what they’ve memorised by repetition — 63 — and get full score.

2) High scorer: does everything as told. Prioritise the wishes of authority (teachers, parents) above everything else.

3) Seems to understand everything, never asks questions: views knowledge as “model answers” to be regurgitated in exams. Whether it makes sense doesn’t matter.

These are very cynical takes, aren’t they? I’ve cast in these students in a very negative light.

But what if this negative light isn’t negative at all if these students have stayed in the land of their ancestors? What if these “cynical takes” were considered virtues for the budding Chinese scholars of old?

What if “Asian smart” is purely a consequence of history and culture?

First of all, if you ask “Asian smart” students and they’re honest with you, most would tell you that their smartness isn’t the product of miracles or extra brain juice. Some would say it’s not even intelligence. It is the direct result of extra hours spent at the desk.

What is their motivation? Are Chinese children simply born to be extra hardworking?

Perhaps it’s their so-called “tiger moms”? If then, are Chinese moms born more … feline?

The answers, as you may expect, are no, Chinese aren’t born any different from other races. Their drive to study can largely be explained by an ancient, nation-wide exam system known as the imperial examination system (Ke-Ju, 科舉), plus a dude with a name of Confucius.

Many are aware that Chinese have long considered scholastic aptitude as important. But how long is long? The answer: 1.4 millennia. The imperial examination system, or Ke-Ju, began in 605 AD and while the system had evolved over time, the gist of it was this: students participated in locals exams and the “winners” moved up to the county, then provincial levels etc, until the students who’d won all previous exams sat for the final one in the capital palace, at times proctored by the Emperor, where the grand winners would be decided. The Ke-Ju system was essential in shaping Chinese’s attitude towards academic achievements, because the final top 3 winners, regardless of birth, would be hired by the Imperial Court (+ in some cases, get to marry a princess!).

Ancient Chinese studied and studied and studied for that reason; Ke-Ju was one of the very few social ladders available to commoners, who mostly lived in poverty. The Chinese folklore-scape has therefore been filled with “inspirational” stories about how people overcame exceptionally challenging studying conditions (like this one) to become successful in some way.

How, exactly, does Ke-Ju shape the traditional Chinese view towards studying and education?

1) Historically, Chinese views studying as a means to a better life. The pursuit of knowledge was secondary. The modern analogy to studying hard in ancient China is working three part-time jobs to pay the mortgage for a house, and there is, in fact, a famous Chinese idiom that reflects this: 書中自有黃金屋 (“In the books, there is a golden house”). According to the poem (勸學詩) where the idiom came from (written by an Emperor, by the way: 宋真宗, ~ 1000 BCE), other things found in books included high wages paid in food, beauties, chariots and horses. All practical stuff.

2) Because of 1), getting high scores, or “winning” the exams, was seen as the paramount goal of studying. Far less emphasis was put on understanding the exam material. The teachers of ancient Chinese schools (私塾) were known for doing little explaining; instead, they made recite passages and expected them to figure out the meanings by themselves later. The attitude that scores are everything was further fuelled by the fact that the Emperor had the final say on the result of Ke-Ju — the Emperor who’d most probably claimed the throne by genetics and was not always the most intelligent or knowledgable. While the ability to formulate well-researched and well-reasoned answers helped tremendously, the most important skill for the final Ke-Ju winner was, therefore, the ability to guess what the Emperor wanted to hear, and sometimes, what they wanted to see (there were instances where the Emperor swapped the rankings because they found the original victor too ugly).  

ie. The most important skill was to know the Emperor’s Answer, and to be able to frame it as the winner’s own perspective even if the winner didn’t, in reality, believe in a single word of it.

3) The tradition of having an “Emperor’s Answer” means its modern equivalent, having an “one and only” model answer, have remained the norm in education systems in many Chinese-speaking communities. Many educators have asked for reforms, argued that model answers discourage independent thinking and creativity, but teachers have also been trained on model answers and they’re often unsure of their own opinions, and at times, fearful that they’ll pass on a “wrong” perspective to their students. The latter is especially true in places under authoritarian rule, where school lessons must follow closely the regime’s propaganda (which can be vastly different from year to year).

You may wonder then: but certainly, the students would revolt. How could children learn in such a stifling environment for so long?

This is where Confucius (孔丘, 551-478 BC) comes in. The education system is only a slice of a culture where authority is not to be questioned, where silence is seen as a virtue even among the youngest of children.

Many may know Confucius to be a philosopher, but he was also a political advisor and not a very popular one. I’ve half-jokingly summed up his slogan as “Make China Great Again”, as he lamented his era for having lost the social etiquette and order of several centuries before, and he was set on bringing them back. He researched on rites and rituals that were already old for his time, postulating that every detail of how people behaved around each other would affect social harmony. Social order, he believed, could be achieved by people respecting and obeying their elders, not only in their thoughts but also in their day-to-day behaviour, which was to be bound with a set of intricate rules that dictated their word choices, actions and even postures according to the situation and kinship between the interacting individuals (a fun video here showing a Confucian rite, including the sheer variety of Confucian bows). The elders would, in return, take care of those with less authority than they had, share with them their wisdom.

Confucius also believed that harmony of the world could be achieved by self-discipline from the base level of the society to the top. In this “discipline pyramid”, individuals sat at the bottom. The discipline of families came above it, in which elder generations of each family reined in the rebellious younger ones, made each family a true unit where its members were unified in thoughts and actions. The nation (government) then exerted its authority on families and cured their conflicts — to drive this point home, the term 父母官 has remained in use in China today, which likens the government officials (官) to parents (父母) and constituents to children who should listen to their parents (imagine someone likening Boris Johnson, or Donald Trump, as your father). Finally, the world, with the Emperor as its ruler, smothers the insurgences among nations to achieve the ultimate order and harmony. (修身、齊家、治國、平天下).

Confucius did put a big asterisk in his theory. For this “discipline pyramid” to work, the asterisk said, the Emperor who’d establish the final world order must be a good one. The problem was: most Emperors thought they were pretty good. Confucius’ philosophy appealed to them because the Emperor sat at the pinnacle of this power structure, and as each level ruled over the one below, the lowest level — the individual commoners — had so many constraints piled on them that their individuality was stripped. This made governing much easier.

And so, while Confucius’ political theories were not particularly popular during his lifetime, Confucianism became the official school of philosophy for Chinese imperial courts after ~100 BC. China’s immense power in the ancient world meant Confucianism also became the prominent school of philosophy in its sphere of influence, which included, among others, the modern nations of Japan, S. Korea and Vietnam, all of which also held their own versions of Ke-Ju.

(Hence, this post would very likely remain valid if Cho Chang was Korean.)

In addition to locating talents among commoners, the Ke-Ju system further cemented Confucianism as the “proper” school of thought because it required the students to learn Confucian texts. These students, who would also become disseminators of knowledge outside the Imperial Court, would bring Confucianism to the commoners who’d practise it as well, as a display of cultured upbringing, in the hopes that their descendants would one day know it well enough to enter the Imperial Court. The discipline pyramid soon infiltrated every aspect of Chinese culture, and Confucianism became Imperial China’s tool for reinforcing social hierarchy and a social stabilizer. It remained revered in all levels of the Chinese society until, during the Cultural Revolution (1966-76), the Red Guards, with the blessings of Mao Ze-Dong, made an all out-attack on Confucian values and while remnants of them have survived in China’s social fabric, they’re largely in tatters (As a result, the best places to observe the legacy of Confucianism nowadays are in Japan, S. Korea and Taiwan.)

Back to the “Asian smart”. “Asian smart” was an impression built from students who were (children of) recent immigrants from Confucianism-influenced communities. Students who’d been educated in the tradition of those who’d sat in the ancient schools, their backs ramrod straight and spoken only when called, their mouths opening only to satisfy the teachers’ requests because teachers were the authority in the classroom and never to be questioned. Students who’d expected an Emperor’s Answer to every exam question, the answer that was, always, the final word. Students who’d studied hard because golden houses could be found in the books.

This “Asian smart” is as different as can be from “Ravenclaw smart”. Asian smart is quiet and unquestioning, while Ravenclaw smart challenges and argues. Asian smart views knowledge as a servant of society, while Ravenclaw smart sees knowledge, and the pursuit thereof, as lording over social expectations. Asian smart is about reinforcing social order while Ravenclaw smart is about breaking the mould. Asian smart has groomed the establishment for over a thousand years while Ravenclaw smart has nurtured eccentrics.

Of note, this disparity between the two “smarts” doesn’t mean one is superior to another. Our current pandemic has made a case for Confucian collectivism; individuals in E. Asian countries have shown themselves to be more willing to sacrifice personal freedoms and aesthetics for the sake of their communities, more comfortable at obeying new rules despite the questions of their need have yet be answered satisfactorily by science, and the benefits of these attitudes have been reflected in the case and death counts. The pandemic has also reminded us of the importance of knowledge that serves society (for example, epidemiological research, vaccine development, contact tracing), even if it’s not always the most exciting. Healthcare is a discipline that requires a “no ifs and buts, no matter how well-reasoned” attitude towards certain rules (how to put on and remove PPEs, for example).

Anyway, I digressed! The conclusion I have, after so many words, is this: Cho Chang being assigned Ravenclaw isn’t racist stereotyping, as some have alleged. I can appreciate where the allegation comes from. The common association with intelligence aside, many sorting tests have also tied academic achievements to Ravenclaw, even though Ravenclaws were never described as book smart in the series. But the allegation doesn’t hold up well after an investigation into the way Ravenclaw House was written, and the kind of smartness Cho Chang was expected to have if it was, indeed, race-based.

It doesn’t mean, I’d like to note, that some Asians aren’t being unfairly judged because parts of our society still hold the false impression that our racial group are somehow born to excel in academics or any work where maths are involved. I understand—I truly do—the frustrations of having one’s accomplishments belittled, attributed to a quirk in the DNA that doesn’t exist. I’ve, too, had to certify that my Mom is 100% human, free of the tiger too many times.

But the HP books cannot be blamed for that, and the longer the blame is placed on something that doesn’t deserve it, the longer the focus, and effort is shifted away from the actual problem and its potential solutions. The time and words spent on such “call-outs” can be better spent, I believe, by explaining how the misconception of “smart Asians” can affect real people like you and me.

And like Cho Chang, perhaps, if we love to think about the HP world. If her classmates wondered why she wasn’t the top of her class for her year, why she wasn’t famously book-smart like Hermione Granger to win them some house points. Why did she sign up for Quidditch? Why would any Asian, never mind a tiny, fragile E. Asian girl like her, even think about touching sports? Shouldn’t she be studying? Learning advanced arithmancy even though their OWLS were still a year away?

And Cho would come back to the common room hours later, flushed with sweat and smiling, and announced that she’d made seeker.

[mikauzoran]

Love Square: Four-Fold Blessings: Chapter Four: Adrienette: Lips

On AO3: Four-Fold Blessings: Chapter Four: Adrienette: Lips

“I’m not trying to sneak up on you,” Adrien announced as Marinette shut her locker door, causing Marinette to unintentionally slam the door and yelp.

Adrien grimaced. “But, apparently, I’m just that good, I don’t even have to try.”

“One of these days, you’re going to give me a heart attack,” Marinette sighed, slumping back against her locker.

“But, for now, I’m just helping you sneak in an extra bit of cardio,” he countered with a saccharine smile. “Not that you need it.” He threw in a wink for good measure.

She rolled her eyes even as she spared him an indulgent smile. “Flirt.”

“Only with you,” he promised.

“So, what’s up?” Marinette chuckled, tucking an errant bang back behind her ear. “Did you just scare me half to death because you wanted to say hi, or did you need something?”

“Actually, are you available for an hour or two? I need your help with something,” he lied, mentally crossing his fingers.

“Today is your lucky day,” she informed him. “I did have plans with Alya, but she unexpectedly dropped me at the last minute without a good explanation, so I’m not only free but also considering shopping for a new best friend, if you want to apply.”

Adrien wrote himself a mental reminder to make it up to Alya at some point.

“I am supposed to meet up with another friend later,” Marinette added, “so I can’t be out too late, but I don’t think he’ll be dropping by my place until this evening, so I should be okay to help out for an hour or two.”

“Perfect,” Adrien agreed, figuring she meant the other him and that her calendar would clear up once she found out he and Chat Noir were one and the same. “I guess the only question is: What are you looking for in a best friend?”

She pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “Hm. Unconditional emotional support, someone to explain to me how I’m being illogical when I freak out, and someone who I can talk about boys with.”

“I think I’m qualified for the job,” Adrien reported with a proud grin. “Sign me up.”

Marinette quirked an eyebrow at him, putting a damper on his smile.

“What? You don’t think I can do it?” He jutted his bottom lip out into a pout.

“I’m just having a hard time imagining you talking about boys,” she admitted.

“I am perfectly capable of discussing how dreamy Luka’s smile is or how hot Chat Noir’s butt looks in leather, thank you very much,” he huffed indignantly.

Marinette’s eyes momentarily went wide, but she quickly got a handle on her surprise. “Apologies. It seems I underestimated you. You can be my best friend until I inevitably forgive Alya for flaking on me.”

“Deal,” Adrien replied with a resolute nod. “So…shall we?”

“Let’s,” she agreed, slipping her arm through his. “Lead the way.”

 A quick drive found them at Le Grand Paris on their way up to one of the suites occupying the top floors of the hotel.

“What exactly did you need help with here?” Marinette wonder as Adrien used the keycard to swipe them in.

Adrien paused with his hand on the door handle. “I don’t, actually,” he admitted. “That was just an excuse. The truth is that I have a surprise for you.”

She blinked, trying to process Adrien-hotel room-surprise.

He intercepted her line of thought and headed her off before she could go there. “Please disregard the fact that I’ve brought you to a hotel and that there’s a bed behind this door and everything that that could possibly implicate,” he rushed to assure her. “It’s nothing like that. Chloé’s just doing me a favour letting me use the space. All this is is a private venue that I didn’t have to use my credit card—which my father tracks—to reserve.”

Marinette considered him for a moment, trying to fight down the urge to panic because she was pretty sure that Adrien Agreste was about to ask her out using an elaborate romantic gesture, and she wasn’t sure what she was going to say because just yesterday she had told Chat Noir that she wasn’t sure where she stood and what she wanted.

“What exactly is this surprise?” she tried to hold it together as she asked, tried to tell herself that maybe she was jumping the gun.

He pushed the door open and bowed dramatically, motioning for her to go first.

She stepped past him and gasped at the suite covered in rose petals, lit by the hazy glow of fairy lights. Soft instrumental music was playing in the background. A picnic was spread out on a blanket on the floor, and by the massive TV were four different kinds of video game consoles and a stack of assorted racing, fighting, and multiplayer games.

“I hope this is okay,” Adrien chuckled nervously as he closed the door behind them. “This is kind of my dream scenario as far as romantic settings go. With the rose petals and the picnic and the soft lighting. There’s even a balcony we could stargaze from. I know it’s the middle of winter, but we could wrap up in blankets, and…”

He stopped talking and gulped, both scared to continue and anxious to get it over with. “…I know this is similar to the surprise you saw two years ago that I prepared for Ladybug, but I want you to know it’s not just a recycled idea. I did change things up with you specifically in mind, so…I hope that’s okay.”

Marinette sucked in a sharp breath, feeling like her lungs had forgotten how to use air.

Her knees felt like they were about to buckle, but she kept ahold of herself enough to whisper a shaky, “Chat Noir?”

Adrien’s heart leapt at the same time that the bottom dropped out of his stomach. “Hi, Princess.”

She whipped around, launching herself at him, pulling him to her and squeezing him tight as she cried. “It’s you.”

“It’s me,” he confirmed, returning her crushing hug. “I take it from your reaction that this is a good thing?”

She pulled back only to surge forward into a kiss, crushing her mouth to his eager lips.

When she broke away, she shook her head, unable to control her wide, dopey grin. “You have no idea how happy I am. I was dreading choosing between you. I didn’t know how I was going to do it. Either way, I would have had regrets.”

“Well, now you don’t have to choose,” he hummed happily, practically delirious from her kiss. “Though, I’m really glad that you would have had such a hard time picking. I’m glad that you fell in love with both sides of me. Sorry to put you through that, though.” He grimaced. “It seemed like a lot to dump on you yesterday, so I waited until today to do the reveal. You know. In case you reacted badly or something. I didn’t want to leave you to finish the rest of the gingerbread ninja order by yourself.”

She laughed breathily. “Oh, you don’t know the half of what you’ve put me through this weekend.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Enlighten me.”

She took a deep breath. “Friday night, when you told me you were in love with someone, I was heartsick over losing you.”

Adrien’s brow furrowed as he played back his Friday, trying to remember when he’d told Marinette he was in love with someone.

“Then,” she continued, “after I’d accepted that you’d never be mine, Saturday night you told me that you were thinking about asking me out, and I was so, so happy Adrien.”

Adrien’s frown grew deeper in his attempt to call up memories of talking to Marinette on Saturday.

“Then,” she snorted, “yesterday, you tell me that I’m the one you’re in love with, and I have a meltdown about choosing between you, but today you’re the same person, and I’m the same person, and everything is going to be all right.”

Adrien’s eyes went wide as his breath caught in his throat. “When…did I tell you that I was going to ask you out?” he asked, voice quavering.

He thought he knew the answer, but he was scared to hope. Historically, his luck had never been that good.

She smiled warmly. “When I fell into your garden like the klutz that I am,” she whispered.

He gasped. “My Lady.”

“Chaton,” she started to chuckle, but Adrien swallowed the ending, pulling her lips back to his.

It was a sloppy, unskillful kiss flavored with bouts of laughter and the salt of their tears as they released a wide range of emotions.

When they finally calmed down and slowed to a stop several minutes later, Adrien was the one to break the silence.

“Just to be clear, this means that you will go out with me, right?”

Marinette burst out laughing, holding onto his shoulders to keep from toppling over.

Adrien winced. “Princess, I actually need a yes or no response here.”

“Yes!” she giggled. “I’m sorry, Adrien. Yes, yes, yes.”

“Okay, good,” he breathed in relief, his body relaxing. “In that case, did you want to get some snacks first, or would you rather skip straight to kicking my butt at video games? I was thinking we could save the stargazing until a little later.”

“Snacks and then video games sound wonderful, Chaton,” she hummed happily, melting into her boyfriend, her partner.

The

      End

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Sixty

Finally: cotton candy. Held in my hands, stacked high, almost a mile wide. Or maybe like a foot long. Or some odd centimeters (but not the even ones). Such sweet, cottony candy.

“There’s something bittersweet about finality, isn’t there?” I asked the guy at the cafeteria who gave me the cotton candy.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he grunted.

I shrugged and told him, “yeah, me either. I mean, it’s bittersweet when things come to an end no matter the outcome. But when it comes to cotton candy, it’s just sweet. That’s why I love it. That, and fruit snacks. Say, which would be better: fruit snack flavored cotton candy or cotton candy flavored fruit snacks?”

“Cotton candy isn’t a fruit. It’s just sugar.”

“Oh yeah. What would you call sugar, anyway? It’s a crop, right? So, is sugar a vegetable? Or a seasoning? Could sugar be considered a spice? But then again, spices are bitter and sugar is sweet.”

“I don’t have time for philosophy. I make food and serve it.”

“That’s fair!” I snapped my fingers. “For me, I can’t even be sad even if I wanted to. My whole cotton candy journey was a long and arduous one. It must have taken the length of two characters’ arcs just to find the cafeteria. Can you believe that?”

He groaned. Jeez, tough crowd. I took a bite out of my cotton candy and the taste was so good that more cotton candy formed from out of the space where I took my bite. As long as eating cotton candy made me happy, I’d get an unlimited amount of cotton candy, which was guaranteed to be unlimited, because being full only made me happy when I felt like being full, and I never got upset stomachs, because it has the word ‘upset’ in it and being upset didn’t make for a happy Blanc.

“Say, what makes you happy?” I asked the cotton candy maker, who I was sure made other food, but everything else paled in comparison to cotton candy. Well, cotton candy paled in comparison to fruit snacks. It’s all relative.

“Making food,” [insert guttural adjective here] the cafeteria worker.

“Great!” I waved finger guns at him. “Then that’s all you’ll be doing for the rest of your life! Hope you at least get a chance to eat what you make, but I don’t make the rules!”

“Yeah,” his face crinkled into a smile. “MAKING FOOD MAKES ME HAPPY!” He bellowed.

I took a bow.

“You’ll do great. I probably won’t see you again. I gotta meet up with a couple of friends, though there’s no telling how long that will take. Then some things will happen. Probably. Happy things I’m sure, because those are the kind of things I like to happen!”

I skipped off, cotton candy in hand, in search of Velvet and Coriander. As much as I wanted to cross their names off of my happiness list (which I never really conjured up, it was more of a mental list. Sure, I could have, but I wasn’t a big fan of work, and writing things down on a piece of paper was just too much work for this human-shaped happiness), something told me that they weren’t quite out of the woods. I put my finger (not the index finger, the happy one (obviously, the pinkie)) on my chin and got to thinking.

“Now, that whole artist thing sure created an ethical dilemma. One that I don’t want to boggle my mind with, but I’m going to have to figure this out one way or another.”

I had to think of that artist. Dr. Katsushika. She didn’t go by that name, at least not often, but that’s what it was. Or that’s what it would be if she went by that name. To be honest, I would have felt bad for Velvet, and doubly bad for Coriander. Sure, there were folks like that in The Flashbulb. Many more than those two faced, but there was only so much time in the void, even if time in the void didn’t quite exist. But I didn’t feel bad for them, because feeling bad wouldn’t have made me feel good. But that would have made me feel bad, if I could feel bad.

All that said, Dr. Katsushika didn’t quite make me feel good either. Retract that. Dr. Katsushika would have made me feel bad, if I could feel bad about anything. She wasn’t what I’d call someone who made others happy. Even if she liked that word almost as much as I did. When it came down to it, she was the ethical dilemma: if dying didn’t make her happy, but it put Coriander at peace, was that OK? On one hand, it was probably better if she had died, but on the other hand...happiness comes first.

“I knew it! I fuckin’ knew it! You can’t make everyone happy!” I stamped my foot. Then my left hand formed a mouth. Y’know, like a hand puppet.

“SURE YOU CAN! BOTH PARTIES DON’T HAVE TO BE HAPPY RIGHT AWAY!” My left hand told me. On the other hand...cotton candy.

Ah, yes. My Left Hand was right. It was all clear now that the pieces would soon come together. I just had to disregard any sort of ethical dilemma, disregard logical conclusions, and let things run their course. That course being a corrected one.

Hey! Would it come off as a surprise to say that I’ve had a hand in everything this whole time? Specifically, My Left Hand. More specifically, Euphy! Maybe a better question was: would it ruin the impact of everything that’s transpired? Hmm...probably. But it wasn’t like it was anything major, really. Euphy’s hands were long and could find their way anywhere. That said, most of my friends’ actions were their own and for the most part, I was hands-off. The best explanation I could give was that I tossed around a few metaphorical breadcrumbs here and there.

So with that out of the way, let’s just say that a few more breadcrumbs were about to snow down like dandruff.

Tick-tock, knick-knack, knock-knock.

Those were the sound effects made once my little bug found the correct door (and no, they were not behind door number three, but game shows really were the pinnacle of television). Of course, neither of them answered. All the better. As far as I figured, neither of them wanted to see me. Especially not the spice rack. Which, given what I put her through, was understandable.

All the same, thanks to all my spare time locked away from all the other Flashbulb employees, I once learned the fine art of lockpicking. Not to say that I could have just broken free of my enclosure any time I wanted to, but I sure was glad I learned the craft all the same. If not, I might not have gotten into their room.

Like a thief in the night (not that there was any sense of day or night in our headquarters), I slipped into their room. To my surprise, they both must have been heavy sleepers. There they were, hand in hand, holding each other close. Like still life models. It brought forth the urge to chuckle, something I had to surprise in order not to get caught. Even asleep, they continued to be an inspiration.

Oh. There would be questions.

“How did you survive? Didn’t I slam you into the floor and kill you?” The outraged, or horrified Coriander (the art formerly known as Mavis) would ask me.

I would smirk all smug, close my eyes, with my index finger (a very smart and astute finger, the one finger who puts the most work into every craft) pointed up, and then tell her:

“Simple: I created an android of myself to pull the strings while I watched in a hidden space. You really should have paid better attention. Not that it would have done you much good, as I had packs of blood stored up in the android set to spill out upon a fall. It’s true: I really do think of everything!”

She would probably yell and/or scream, “I HATE YOU,” and I wouldn’t know what to say to that. I had no smug remark. As far as I was concerned, she had every right to hate me, to wish me dead. Hell, I’d wager that she’d try to kill me all over again.

But alas, I was alive, and I’ve had my fill of both of them. I’ve painted so many paintings, and sent one of my little flies (microscopic robots) to scout out the area and find them for me. All in the span of time that they spent lovemaking. Yes, I knew about that too. But rest assured, I had my fly leave the room as soon as it went in. Say what you will about me, but I respected others’ privacy.

Case in point, I slipped underneath the bed. I was in no rush and the cold, metal floor was really quite comfortable. Those two also had all the time in the world. The problem was that their world didn’t have much time left. That was A-Okay, though. Because I told them I would help them and damn it, I meant it!

It wasn’t like I woke up between a rock and a hard place. In fact, the bed I was on was quite soft, and Coriander’s back was also quite soft. But even still, I felt like I was between an unstoppable force and an unmovable object; the unstoppable force being the comfort of being on a bed, and the unmovable object being my cute girlfriend who was currently asleep on top of me.

Well, if my time awake was time wasted, so be it. I couldn’t be any more satisfied knowing that I held in my arms both the one I loved, and the one who loved me. There was still a world to save, somewhere out there, with however much time it had left, but let’s face it: I was too tired. So I smiled as I stroked her back, then turned my head to fall asleep once more.

Whether sleep was for the weak or I was weak without sleep, one thing was clear: I didn’t get enough of it. Then again, how could I even tell? Trick question, I couldn’t. It was all a wild-ass guess based on how tired I still was. I was so tired that when I lifted my head, I didn’t have the strength to get up all the way, so I lowered my head back down onto Velvet’s chest. Big mistake that was. As soon as I did so, I felt a wet spot on my cheek and for a hazy moment, I thought nothing of it. Until I did. And started to freak out.

“Oh no! That’s drool! I drooled on her boob! She’s always saying I do that and I always say that I don’t do that but I just did! What am I supposed to do?” My words spilled out in a panic. Spilled out like drool. Ew. No. Stop.

I stared down. She was still asleep. I poked her cheek for good measure. Nothing.

“Okay. Good. I can use this to my advantage,” I mumbled. I could get a tissue from the bathroom. Wipe her boob down. Wait. What if that woke her up? Well shit, too late to consider that, I was already up and out of bed.

Ugh. What if she wakes up and notices and points it out and I wouldn’t have anything in my defense! I’d be caught drool handed. Ew. At least I’ll wash my hands.

I got into the bathroom and washed my hands. To my surprise, there was a stack of folded clothes on the counter right next to the sink.

“Was this here before?” I muttered. Well, I was too tired to think about it too hard. Maybe if I was less tired, I could have asked questions like, “is this an automatic feature of The Flashbulb’s technology?” or “was this here this whole time and I just didn’t notice?” and of course, the most important question would have been, “did someone sneak in here?”

But no. Call it stupidity, tiredness, or a lapse in logic, because I just took the clothes and put them on. They fit quite well. Not too tight, not too baggy. Really, if there was any complaint, it was how generic they looked. Plain white shirt and pants. Nothing much else to say. I wasn’t even sure why describing them at all was worth mentioning.

Once I left the room, clothed and cloth in hand, I froze in place. Lucidity took hold and all the thoughts I should have had weighed down on me as I stood face to face with the one I thought I had killed. The same one who put me through such torture.

“You…” I forced the words out. My blood was boiling, but I just couldn’t bring myself to move. “You can’t be here…” I was about to say, “...you aren’t real. You’re not here.” But the rest of my words didn’t come. I closed my eyes.

“Surprise! Bet you thought you’ve seen the last of me!” Her words rang through. No, there was no mistake: it was her.

I opened my eyes and looked around for something to use as a weapon. Not that it would have done me much good. I should have just kicked her face in and whaled on her, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Worse yet, I started to tremble where I stood.

“Really, this wasn’t how I expected our meeting to go down. I wanted to wait until both of you were awake, but maaaan, that Velvet is one heavy sleeper! You’re welcome for the clothes, by the way. Did you know that I’m quite the seamstress? Quite the tailor? It’s true! Just one of the many art forms I’ve learned throughout the years!”

I growled. That was all I could bring myself to do. I wanted to lose all control and beat her to a bloody pulp. I should have been allowed that after all that was done to me. She shouldn’t have been alive, she should have been dead. All the pain, everything she caused, and there she stood, without so much as a scratch.

“Huh? What’s going on?” Came a voice beside me. Hoarse and droned, but unmistakably Velvet’s. I looked over and when she saw who was there, she too got on the defensive.

“You! How...how did you get in here? For that matter, how are you alive?” Her voice changed to that of more serious and harsh in tone.

“Finally!” Dr. Popsicle grinned. “I’ve been waiting for someone to ask that! It’s simple, really, I –” The mad artist never got the chance to finish. Velvet shut her down quick.

“You know what? I really don’t care. It doesn’t matter how you’re still alive, but I won’t forgive you for what you’ve done to me or my girlfriend. So I’ll make sure to kill you this time.”

“Your girlfriend? Oh, congrats! You made it official!” Popsigirl chuckled. I managed to break free of whatever mental restraints were placed on my physical being. I began to charge at her and gave her a swift kick in the shin.

She seethed, but even in pain, managed to keep a smile. “Right...I deserve that,” she winced.

“Velvet!” I yelled. “Grab something to throw at her! No mercy!”

She gave me a nod in response and felt around, then grabbed a knife. Blessed. I continued the beat down as I shoved the artist to the floor and began to kick her repeatedly.

“I’ll kill you!” I yelled. After a few kicks, sure to at least bruise up her sides, she put a hand up in the air.

“Wait! Wait!”

I didn’t want to wait. How dare she tell me that?!

“You guys can kill me if you want, but you might want to think it over!”

“What?!” I stopped for whatever reason.

“OK. So. Imagine: you kill me, I’m on the floor. My body rots. The smell gets real bad. Either someone notices my body, ups the security and finds out who killed me, or, let’s say hypothetically, you manage to defeat the whole Flashbulb, which I can’t imagine you guys doing without my help. You’ll probably have to kill many others along the way, too, of course. All of those bodies, that smell, it all tends to add up. If you’re going to be stuck here for the rest of your lives, is that really what you want to walk around smelling all the time?”

Such drivel. As if she really believed she could weasel her way out with some loose logic that anyone could poke a hole into.

“Of course,” she went on. “You could dispose of the bodies. The question is, where and how.”

“Enough,” Velvet interrupted once again. “First off, what is this wet spot on my chest?”

Really? You’re really going to focus on that when we have more important things to worry about? Even still, I guess it would be bad on my part if I told her it was drool.

“It’s probably sweat. We were going at it pretty rough,” I told her.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Velvet replied, and I was saved.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t watch!” Popsigirl chimed in, much to my disgust.

“Second off!” Velvet hushed the intruder. Although I suppose as a whole, Velvet and I were the intruders. “Bold of you to assume I have a problem with the stench of death. Sure, I’d probably vomit every time I passed by a dead body, but I’d rather make that sacrifice than know someone like you would still be around to hurt the one I love.”

“Oof. Well, you raise a find argument. Some sacrifices may be necessary, after all. Gee, I’m getting a kick out of discussing these things with you! We could have some really creative debates!”

“Screw that,” Velvet spat. “It’s bold of you to even be in our presence right now!”

“That it is!” The art fanatic proclaimed. “And you two have every right to hate me.”

“Good, because we do,” I found my voice once more. Velvet nodded along.

“But even if that’s the case, I’d like to make it up to you guys. The way I see it, neither of you have much time left before your version of Earth is kaput. And if you just flail around the headquarters randomly, you’re never going to save anything. Hard truths, y’know?”

“Here’s a hard truth: you can’t make it up to us. I can only speak for myself, but even if it takes longer, even if I fail, I don’t want to stoop so low as to accept help from someone like you. Besides, you’ve already claimed to want to help us before, and I remember all too well how that went.”

Both of us were on the same page, but I started to feel a little mixed about it all. The whole reason I wanted to get to the headquarters was to exact revenge on the ones who made me who I was. Yes, I knew that the world was ending, but that wasn’t my main reason. But I knew there were better reasons to defeat them besides revenge, which Velvet had those better reasons, and yet she was willing to sacrifice them for my sake. Not only did I not deserve that, but if we had a chance…

No. I knew better than to think about that. The one in front of us was the one who had traumatized me, used both Velvet and I for her amusement. We had no reason to trust that someone like that could help us, and even if she could, I didn’t want to be in her presence. It hurt so much just to stand there. Worse, I was wearing clothes that she had made for me. Total red flags right there.

“I...I feel sick,” I said at last. “I’m going back into the bathroom.”

“What about dealing with the other person in the room?” Velvet pleaded.

Really, what about it?

“I trust you to make a decision,” I replied.

“But I don’t want to make a decision without you!” She called for me, but I already closed the door. I sounded so bitter even though I knew I wasn’t mad at Velvet. I just didn’t know what else to do. So I locked myself in until I felt safe enough to come back out.

Gee, things were going to be harder than I thought. Well, according to the ancient art of boxing, “sometimes you just gotta roll with the punches.” So that’s just what I did: I reached into my shirt and pulled out a pile of clothes. Voila! I threw them at Velvet and got into my most Serious Person impression.

“Put these on. You’re not modeling for one of my drawings, and besides, you two don’t wanna be running around the headquarters naked,” I commanded.

“I bet you have it rigged so the clothes have some kind of mind control or body control thing, or it’s got some explosives attached, or there’s tracking devices, or –”

“All good ideas,” I stopped Velvet from listing other things. “See? Even now you give me such good ideas! But no: they’re just clothes.”

She eyed me, but gave in all the same. As she did so, I decided to sit on the floor. Not to worry, it wasn’t to better enjoy the view, I just figured the floor was a good place to be. Once she was all dressed, I got back to business.

“Now, I don’t doubt your guys’ resilience, you two displayed it quite well back there,” I chuckled. “But as I said, you can’t just run around and hope for the best. That’s even worse than how others have tried to overthrow us in the past, and their organized efforts didn’t pan out well. Do you know why?”

She said nothing, but continued to glare.

“It’s because everyone could see them coming, so just as the groups were prepared, so too was the company. Which meant they could hire all the guards, janitors, death squads, you name it. Traps and gadgets, weaponry beyond your comprehension. No offense, of course, but the only thing you two got going for you is that no one sees you as a threat. Sure, you had guards after you, and they saw you as intruders, but after you fell down and into my domain, everyone just walked on and figured I killed you guys.”

Still no response. Well, I had more to say, so good.

“But really, it’s a matter of time. The more it seems you have a chance of winning, the less of a chance you actually have. I mean, you don’t think there’s cameras in this room? And listening devices? You’re lucky I’ve disabled them, but still, there’s bound to be other cases where such things weren’t disabled, and you two were caught sneaking in a room or two. Hmm?”

“I get that evil monologues are what you guys are good at, but can you just get to your point?” At last! Velvet spoke! Hurrah!

“What you guys need to do is simple: just run up to the front of the ship, say that it’s been taken over, and do so before your guys’ world is destroyed. Easy enough, right?” I may have skipped a few steps in my head, but she did want me to get to the point, so really, that was on her.

“How did you get to that conclusion?” Velvet sounded baffled as all heck, which was baffling to me, to be baffled at all.

“Because I’ll take care of the rest! See, once you get up to the ship, either they don’t take you seriously at all, or they see you as an actual threat, and if it’s the latter, they’re going to want to throw everything at you. But if they can’t get a signal to contact any guards or anything, they won’t have anything to throw at you. Meanwhile, I’ll be organizing various Flashbulb members to revolt and we’ll open up portals and kick the guards into those. It’s really funny that we had a Morale Department seeing as worker morale here isn’t very high.”

“I see. And the guards won’t overpower the workers because…? I doubt the ones in front care all that much about killing their own in order to maintain power.”

“Ah! Yes! Power! See? That’s something I didn’t think about! Aren’t I glad I have you around?”

She growled. Sheesh, I expected that from the other one, not the velvety person.

“The Flashbulb’s hierarchy goes as follows: the workers, the scientists in the departments, and then the Grandmaster Flash. Everyone answers to Grandmaster Flash, except I’ll let you in on a little secret: there is no Grandmaster Flash. There never has been a Grandmaster Flash.”

“So what? It’s a conspiracy within an organization shrouded in conspiracy theories?”

I snapped my fingers. “Bingo! But also, it’s not the wisest of decisions! See, it was born from a rumor spread by those at the front of the headquarters. Apparently they got together and wanted to get out of work, so told the other departments something like, ‘Grandmaster Flash says I don’t have to do anything.’ At first, the others must have been confused, but as the rumor spread, the ones at the front cleared up the manner by saying, ‘Grandmaster Flash is secretive and makes all of the decisions. Maybe if one of your departments is really good, you will be recognized and one of you will become the next Grandmaster Flash.’ But yeah, it’s a con to keep everyone working hard and to allow the ones at the front to do whatever they want!”

Her eyes widened. Good. She was catching on.

“So basically, if we want to defeat them, we just gotta get them to admit that there’s no leader?”

...Swing and a miss. I rolled on the floor.

“No, silly! Instead, just say ‘we’ve taken out your leader’ or something. That will make them take you guys a little more seriously. And then, when they call for backup and nothing comes, bingo! You’ll have them pissing their pants and I’ll be laughing at them from afar!”

“That still sounds really far-fetched and way too convenient. And besides, how can we even trust you to follow through on your end and do all those things?”

“Good point! You can’t trust me! For all you know, I could rat you guys out and watch your downfall! That’s the poetic nature of all this! Such revolutions like this really are a work of art!”

Velvet shook her head. “This doesn’t sound good, no matter how hard you explain. The fact that you’re even alive…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I sighed. “You want me rolling in my grave instead of on the floor, which, there are no graves here, so why would I be?”

“You did all those things, unrepentant –”

“What can I say? An artist should never apologize for their art.”

“Good,” Velvet crossed her arms. “Because here’s another hard truth: I will never forgive you. No one is obligated to forgive you for the things that you’ve done to them and the sooner you learn that, the easier life will be.”

“Duly noted. But don’t you worry! You don’t have to actively work with me or anything. Just run to the front and say that you’re overthrowing the whole organization, and I’ll do the rest.”

“You say that, but…”

“...Or...you two can run around naked and get killed a horrible death and fail miserably in your mission. Choice is yours, really.”

“I don’t want to do this. If I do, it will feel like I’ve gone against Coriander. If I can find another way, with her, I will.”

As she said that, the one and only spice girl (in the void. Not to discount the infinite amount of spice girls out there across an infinite amount of universes. Also not to discount the infinite amount of Spice Girls, either. I was particularly fond of the version of them where they put out an EDM Folk Death Metal album. Truly ahead of their time) stepped out of the bathroom.

“Let’s just do it, Velvet,” Coriander announced in a dull and lifeless tone. “If there’s more of a chance with this, I’d rather go with it.”

I put my hand on my chest and smiled. So it seems I was forgiven after all! Good! Even though when I looked over at Coriander, her face looked like it was filled with hate and sadness, but I’d take what I could get.

“Now!” I took one good look at the both of them. “Before you two start running off, perhaps you’d like to know how much time you have left.”

“Don’t we have plenty of time, though?” Velvet objected. “Seeing as time doesn’t flow the same here, plus all those time travel devices. I think we’re allowed to take our time, given all that.”

“You’re going to apply logic to a sci-fi setting? What’s wrong with you?” I countered. “I’m sure you can understand how things work if you think about it for more than a few seconds.”

Velvet groaned, Coriander grunted. They must have understood once I said that: time still flowed down on their version on Earth, and maybe even at a faster rate than in here.

“For all you know, your Earth could already be destroyed,” I added. “And you can turn back time, that would just make an alternate Earth, which means there would already be a Velvet occupying there, and…”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Velvet grit her teeth.

“So in order to figure out how things are going down there, I’ll send my little bug to see if there’s anyone I can talk to! That way I can confirm that there’s at least some people still alive, and that they can tell me what the situation’s like!”

I put a little earbud in my ear, then sent one of my little bugs out from my pocket and watched as it warped away, using a built in fragment of a time cube, and waited until it found someone. After a little while, I heard the bug beep. That was my cue.

“Hey! Is anyone still alive on this planet?!” I yelled, as I had no idea how loud I should have been.

“Oh, just little old me,” a voice on the other end came up. I just about jumped for joy! There was life! And with a pleasant voice like that person’s (a soothing mix of baritone, treble, and alto), it seemed like my two muses were in luck.

“Hi there! Yes! This little thing I sent down was one of my art projects! Good to see it was a success!” My heart was racing so fast I could have entered it in a horse race, except hearts weren’t horses. Not unless you did some genetic experimentation, but that was neither here nor there.

“If only I got to hear this conversation from your memories,” he crooned. It really got me thinking: did he know who I was already? Well, I didn’t even know if the voice was a ‘he’, but I just figured such a disembodied voice being a ‘he’ would have been a nice thought, and then I started thinking about how I might have gone about drawing that. Oh, but I was getting distracted once again.

“Then I could see who you are and what your motive was. I could even taste you, just a little,” ‘he’ continued. While some may have found that to be just a bit creepy, I imagined ‘he’ must have thought of me to be a mix of paints.

“Yes! That would be so artistic! Maybe it could mix together at once like a collage!” My excitement might have been showing a little too much. Restraint, too, was an art.

“Where did you send this little bug down from?” ‘He’ asked, which seemed obvious enough to me where I sent it from. Maybe obvious to ‘him’ as well, if ‘he’ called my art project a ‘little bug.’

“I think you know already!” I replied, still with as much cheer as before. Restraint never was my strong suit.

There was a pause before either of us said anything else, so maybe I should have just cut to the chase.

“Are you really the only one left?” I asked. “How’s the situation on Earth?”

The voice on the other end came in once more:

“There were many booties a clappin’,” spoken in a sing-song voice. “But yes, I may be the only one left. There might be a few others. Not sure. Probably won’t last long, though. I’d give it...what? A few more months? A year? Then everything, so happy it could all die.”

“Oh, that sounds so beautiful!” I would’ve been this person’s biggest fan had I been down on that version of Earth and in that specific period in time. “Say it again!”

“It does, doesn’t it?” My next source of inspiration agreed.

“But! And this is a big but!” I had to get myself back on track, else I’d be in awe the entire conversation.

“...You cannot lie?”

“I can’t! One of the greatest artistic achievements! Aha! I am among a true scholar! Oh! But I didn’t go on! See, I’ve got a couple of muses with me who would like to possibly save Earth. Think there’s any way they can do that?”

“Let’s say I could pull a few strings. Buy some time.”

“Great!”

“But, and this is a big booty, I can only delay it for so long. If your pals can’t do anything soon, then I’m afraid my hands are tied.”

“Sounds good! I’ll let them know! They’ll be so excited! Hold on just a sec!”

I put my hand over my ear and said to Velvet and Coriander.

“So someone on Earth says you’ve got time, and could even buy you guys some more time! Isn’t that great!?”

Whether they were excited or my imagination was telling them that they were, I was excited enough just to tell them the good news. Then I uncovered my hand and spoke once more to the jolly fellow.

“Hey! Hey! I’m still here, are you?”

“Indeed, good friend. I have a feeling you and I would get along quite well. Which means I would probably not get along with you at all. But if only I could have found out.” Gee, what a friendly person. Like a star-crossed friend that I never would have met, because if there was anywhere on Earth I’d have wanted to go, it would have been back in Japan, with my father.

“That’s okay! There’s artistic merit in mystery! Leaves some for the imagination!” I assured the good-natured spirit.

“Well, before you depart, I just want to ask a favor of you.”

“Sure!”

“If you could give me an audience, that would be great. I think I’m done being in the shadows. It’s gotten quite boring. So, I would like it if I could speak with others.”

I thought about it. I could already do quite a bit with disabling communications, so opening up a line of communication didn’t seem too hard, either.

“Not a problem!” I assured ‘him’.

‘He’ laughed hysterics. “It’s good to know I had your permission, given I already had the ability to do so.”

“Oh, you sly devil!”

Then, without so much as a good-bye (although I’ve had worse phone conversations), my little bug left and within a few moments, had returned to me.

With that out of the way, I took the earbud out and grinned.

“So basically, you’re already pretty close to the front of the headquarters! I suggest you get going, because it’s hard to tell how long you guys have even after all that! All I can tell you is that there is still hope!”

Velvet and Coriander looked at each other, put on their shoes, then were about to get going. But before Velvet left the room, she turned to me.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I just started thinking that even though art has been my life ever since I was a child, if I have to hurt others to make art, then maybe I should find a different path.”

“That’s good, but that still doesn’t absolve anything you’ve done,” she spoke in a low tone.

“I wouldn’t count on it!” I grinned.

“Maybe the right question I should be asking is this: just who were you before you joined The Flashbulb?”

I shrugged once again. I wasn’t good at being concise, but I’d try.

“Also an artist. Someone’s daughter. Something like that. Hey, I have a favor to ask you and you don’t have to accept, but I just thought of it!”

“Yes?”

“If you ever figure out who I was on Earth, please don’t think of the other versions of me as evil. My actions are my own.”

Velvet nodded. I wasn’t sure if that was her agreeing to my favor or not, but both Velvet and Coriander left at that, without so much as another word. I looked out the door and watched the two run off, then I went back in. It was time for me to do what I did best.

[icharchivist]

The organization around this quarantine thing is such a disaster tbh. 

About two weeks ago, two of our teachers were the ones who were especially worried. 

There was the first case of covid19 in the nearby high school, and our uni, being a linguistic one in a region nearby the Italian border, has a lot of connection with centric pandemic regions in Italy, before they even shut down themselves.

Two of our teachers were concerned bc, as we just came home from holidays, a lot of people connected to the Italian branch came back to the uni as well, and nothing was really done about it. 

One of my teacher was especially mad bc there was no soap in the bathrooms of the uni for a week at that time. She told us then that she will no longer note our presences for classes (mandatory esp for those with scholarships), and encouraged us if we were scared, knew we would be weak to the virus (asthma and such), or if we knew people who were, to not go to school anymore. Told us specifically to take pictures of the soapless bathroom so if the administration bothered us, we’d send them picture going “you’re endangering us”

I’m asthmatic. I have a lot of breathing problems in general, due to a nose malformation that makes it hard to breath and flow normally. and i have allergies. Hell my seasonal illness involves coughing, headaches, nothing flowing from the nose, and lung pains, feeling tired, all those stuff. I can’t even bring up how paranoid i am. Latest cycle of said sickness kicked in with a fever which worried my mom and I had to go see a doctor in urgence a couple of days ago. I’m fine. But i feel extremely paranoid. (and it’s not like France is getting us tested wth bloodtest or something - hospitals are overbooked with the pandemy so they only take in people with very urgent symptoms. Even if you get the virus unless you’re going very bad you’re encouraged to stay at home. There’s probably a lot of cases that we don’t know of because of that.)

But anyway school still didn’t stop back then, two weeks ago. We had two teachers who took the time to sit us down and discuss it with us. How the uni was not prepared to handle it. How they both thought the uni should have closed by now, that they’re discussing it, but they don’t want to yet. 

For two weeks all we got as info was that everything was fine. Only need to clean your hands and cough in your arms. But we also had massive announcement just 5 days ago about how it was not even thought of to close schools. To close places with high work going. That we can’t let it stop us and all.

Last Wednesday, there were still clear announcement that there will be no stopping schools or work or anything. Last Friday, we were issued with a message announcing the massive closing of every schools and we were encouraged to stay at home.

Our uni, is, of course, not prepared for it. We got a few homeworks or class by mails with clear messages from our teachers telling us they’re not prepared and we will need to improvise - us students involved. Our exams, that were to happen in April, will be pushed back to May or June. For now.

On Saturday, they encouraged us to still go vote for the Mayor Elections on Sunday. Obviously, more than half of the population didn’t show up. But we were encouraged to do it still.

On Saturday, we were told to no longer go in groups in places. Something that is obvious of course, but a couple of days ago was not even issued. People stayed up late, disregarded the announcement. In the same breath we were told to not go out anywhere with many people, but to go out to do the election on Sunday still.

Mid Sunday, i get a mail from my uni residence saying that people living in those are encouraged to leave their room, whenever definitly or temporary to return to their family during the shut down of the schools.

I didn’t want to, considering my relationships with my family, but this was getting scary. We were still /encouraged/ but not obligated yet. 

I had seen my mom on the Saturday for the doctor so we discussed the possibility, and while not obligated yet, i was a bit scared. I ended up askign my mom to come pick me up. I couldn’t move out *everything* obviously, but i took already 7 bags with me. My mom originally wanted to help me move out on Monday, but the announce scared me enough i wanted to get it done then immediatly.

Sunday evening, they announce they’re going to restrict moving around. Every shops would close. My mom works in administration soe she had to go work monday still. 

Monday my mom’s employer basically tells her to take “holidays” so she doesn’t have to pay her, all while planning to pass all the mails and phonecalls to the agency to my mom’s phone. She’s sent home on Monday.

Monday evening we got the announcement from the gov that we were in complete lockdown. No longer allowed out without a permit. Only allowed to be out for reasons like grocery shopping, going to the pharmacy or doctor, or if you have jobs that are obligated for the good functionment of the country and crisis. (although they did issue you’re allowed to take your dog out but not for long)

We have to go on the gov’s website to ask for a permit. Like Italy i’ve heard. 

We also have a curfew, no longer allowed out until a certain hour.

So now, today, Tuesday, the whole thing is in place. I’ve heard policemen in my street earlier today ask for people’s permit for being out. 

And my uni residence just sent us a mail saying they no longer even tolerate people being inside the residence for the quarantine. We are obligated to move out ASAP, to a family member or such, or leave definitly.  Today, while the gov has issued you can no longer be out without a permit you printed - while, also, we don’t have printers in our residences. 

I feel glad i followed my gut feeling on Sunday to move out bc i have no idea how i could have asked help to move out today with those measures in place.

What i’m trying to get accross is how quickly those measures were taken in the past few days while it’s been a few weeks we’ve been many to worry enough to think dispositions should have been taken earlier. We’ve been thinking about it for weeks at the uni, but suddenly in less than 5 days we went from “we’re not changing a thing” to “quarantine yourself at your parents’s”.

Not to mention our President doing lots of lectures about how we’re At War, A Health War Sure, But At War And We Have To Consider It As Such. Obviously extremely reassuring to hear while you hear about the amount of death and sickness on TV.

Not like the sickness is any better either. I have a friend who’s a nurse in a part of France that is badly affected. Cases with young people starts to degenerate very quickly, even if they had no prior reasons for it to happen. 

We discovered ibuprophen worsen the virus and it brought people who would have no prior situation into critical states to be taken care of.

/young people with no prior situations/, which i think is important to mention since so many people are brushing off the virus in a “it only affect the elderly or people with weak immune system”, as if this wasn’t reason enough to worry, as if we don’t all know multiple people like that around us, as if the 14days incubation period wasn’t terrifying, as if even if we get minor symptoms we don’t get to spread around a sickness that can be deadly for people with a weaker immune system. Well, if it’s so bad to understand the issue yet, i guess thus “young people with no prior situation get into critical situation” should be a wake up call. We don’t know that virus. It’s frightening. 

People get recontaminated too. Which means we don’t get an immunity from healing. We can catch it again. Who knows how that may even go.

My friend, the nurse, says people keep stealing their equipment. They’re shortstaffed, short in materials, they can barely handle the crisis, not helped by the fact it’s been years that the gov keeps cutting health center’s ressources down. We’re not prepared for  a pandemic that way.

Like... I read everyone talk about the panic buyer making it much more of a problem than it is. And while it’s true, it’s overshadowing that this is a Bad Situation, that we know nothing of that virus and it’s scary, and that the gov’s quarantine had been rushed into so much no one knows how to organize themselves around it. 

For now it’s planned for 15 days. god knows how long it will take.

I, asthmatic currently sick with issues breathing, am stuck back with my mom who smokes all the time at home. Both quarantined. I feel lowkey cursed tbh. For years i tried to escape my family, dealing with all the issues that goes with it, and when i finally manage to do so, i get two lawsuits up my ass bc my dad is a douche and then my residence closes up bc of a massive sickness forcing me to go back to my mom’s. 

I don’t know how to focus on my classes bc the organization is chaotic. I’m scared hearing the news. I have trouble breathing all day and while i know it’s nothing, i remain anxious. I don’t know how long i’m gonna stand my mom. Internet gets slower bc of the influx of people locked home to work. 

i don’t care much for being quarantined itself, i can spend days in my home without problems. I don’t like being stuck with my mom and i just don’t like how we’ve been pushed into it in a complete lack of preparation for it. 

I miss my home. 

And it’s just France. Italy and Spain have been in those situations for a while too. 

In a way that makes me even more angry that they didn’t take precaution before while the Italian gov had been warning us for weeks to be careful and take stuff into account before it’s too late. And we still waited, and we still rushed, and now we will blame everyone who is not understanding how thhe gov went from “it’s only a little flu don’t worry, keep going with your life just wash your hands” to “how irresponsable are you not to be in quarantine” in two days. You wonder then why people are panic buying, it’s not like the gov did any work to be crystal clear about the situation. You wonder people are being careless, a couple of days ago they were still told they had no reason to worry and to look down on those who panics.

EDIT: and lmao, i have been saying those stuff for weeks, for about two weeks i say it should have been taken into account, and my mom was pro-keeping-the-mayor-election-going (bc she wuld perhaps get a job out of it) and i told her then i thought it was a very bad idea to keep them going. My mom tried to convince me about how noooo, it was fiiine, we had to have those municipals anyway, “if people can go grocery shopping they can go vote” as our prime minister said, which i found horrifying (buying good is vital, electing a mayor can wait). And my mom kept insisting that it was important. And now, everyone says it was a bad idea to carry them on. Our own election house didn’t take any health precaution. Even my mom is saying “it was a bad idea.” Call me Cassandra bc i Keep Telling Them This Is Gonna Happen and no one ever listen to me and Too Bad. Ffs.

This is a mess of a situation. It’s making me extra anxious. 

But well that’s how it is now I guess. Sighs.

[chrystening]

Silent Elegy | Daenerys Targaryen / Female Reader

Title: Silent Elegy  Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV) Rating: M Words: 2.4k Summary: There’s only so long you can suffer in silence. Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, viserion is your kid too

commissions open :^0

You skirted through the corridors of Dragonstone. Its cold, hard floors echoed under the urgency of your heel.

Not in her quarters–

not in the the throne room–

not with any of her advisors, not even Missandei–

Your brow furrowed slightly.

In your search for Daenerys, you had come across everyone despite the queen herself… and only a single other person.

Your stomach churned with unease. You knew you were correct, but did you dare think it?

You all but jumped down the steps of Dragonstone, briny air hitting your nose. In your hurry, you stumbled into the path of three Dothraki screamers, landing against one’s bronzed chest. Dany’s khalasar.

You muttered an apology in the common tongue. He looked irritated for a second, before vague recognizance of who you were hit their eyes. Few were spared from the wrath of the Dothraki under their khaleesi’s rule – Daenerys made sure early on that you were one of them.

“Finne ajjin khaleesi?” you spoke.

The Dothraki clucked his tongue, before returning a curt reply. You jaw tensed.

You didn’t know enough Dothraki to be fluent, but you could recognize a few words: Cave. Foreigner. Alone.

You froze, letting them brush past you. You continued, more dread in your step.

When you arrived at the mouth of the cave, Daenerys was leaving. You felt the acidic burn of jealousy sear its way through your veins. At her side, and the possessor of her attention, was Jon Snow. They conversed fluidly.

Daenerys didn’t look hostile. She was courteous, even if her eyes lacked the rosiness you had see when you spoke to her but still – you noted the small breadth of space between them both as they strode.

But, still!

Oblivious to your internal screaming, Daenerys finally saw you. Her face softened, and the ghost of a smile graced her face as she strode more quickly towards you. Jon was left in her wake as she came closer. Your heart twinged with delight. You wished you could muster up any sorts of smile in return, but your spirits were too low.

“There you are. I haven’t seen you all day,” she said, lines of pleasure at her eyes.

That’s my line, you thought hopelessly.

You smiled weakly in response.

“Well… here I am,” you said lamely. You inwardly cringed at the pathetic chuckle you made in order to seem unaffected.

Daenerys tilted her head to the side in confusion. Her smile was withstanding, though, telling you that she was oblivious to the reason behind your odd behavior.

You heard a low clearing of the throat. Right behind Dany was Jon, suddenly.

“Your Grace,” he began, looking to Daenerys, who looked back. “If we could continue our conversation?” Daenerys’s eyes sobered with recognition. What conversation? You desperately thought. Why can’t you just say it in front of me? Daenerys nodded after a pause. She looked at you.

You swallowed drily. You couldn’t burden her. Not with all that was on her plate.

She was staging an invasion , spearheading an entire war… it wouldn’t have surprised anyone that you nodded along, shifting out the way to let Daenerys pass.

She gave you a passing glance, smiling in apology, before she strode off without another word. The murmur of their voices was lost in the washing of the waves. The farther they got, the more they shrank in your view.

Suddenly, you felt forgotten.

Suddenly, you felt small.

-

Whenever you closed your eyes, you could see Viserion. You could see him soaring through a cold, blue-gray sky, and you could the large spear of ice that ripped his throat open. Pools and pools of blood rained down. It was more blood than you’d ever seen pour out of anything .

Oddly enough, you could also see yourself. Your face was frozen in terror, your mouth agape but no scream spilling out. You were in so much disbelief and shock that you couldn’t make a sound. All that moved of you were your eyes, trailing after Viserion’s plummeting figure. His wings failed to catch the wind, weakly beating like the wings of an angel cast out of heaven.

Viserion landed in a lake frozen over by winter, skidding and cleaving through ice until the friction slowed him to a stop. He stopped… and then he sank.

-

Your eyes shot open.

Feeling alone… It was perhaps bearable back on Dragonstone. Just almost bearable .

You felt yourself grasping at the dregs of your sanity.

Now, it was not – not after everything that had happened.

“Without him, my lady, you would not be alive,” Brienne spoke. The room was tensely silent besides the crackle of fire. And of course, besides the voices of people talking. Talking, talking. So much talking, politicking.

Who cared? Who could care when… You fingers found their way to the three-headed dragon pin on your breast. Three dragons on her banner, yet one gone. You shook silently with grief where you sat.

Viserion. That was his name, but to you he was Prumia – heart. Heart, because he was so loving and so affectionate, compared to his brothers. You could remember the first time he dipped his head by you, allowing you to climb atop his scales. Riding him was as natural as walking. You had always felt like a second mother to Daenerys’s children but that… that was when you knew you were.

Your eyes rose from your seat amongst the Northernmen. You were in Targaryen black, red flint-like jewels sown in the hems – and yet you were not up there, not with Daenerys. Not by her side. Instead here you were beside Bran, a Stark. You cast a passing glance at him. He was seated, as he had no other alternative. He was composed. If not a little empty , you thought, curiously. You looked up at Daenerys, who felt so far away.

Your eyes slid from Daenerys’s strong, graceful figure to the brooding one beside her. Your mind spiraled, swam with despair.

“What does the Warden of the North say about it?” You saw her look to Jon, searching for his answer. Trusting his judgement.

You hated him. Well, of course you didn’t – you found it hard to truly hate anyone – but you wished you did.

You bowed your head, solemnity creasing your face.

If Jon was to say Daenerys pardon Jaime, then the kingslayer was to be pardoned.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Jaime replied, bowing his head.

Everyone in the Great Hall stood, now that the nobility were excusing themselves.

“He’s with him, you know,” you heard. It was low and quiet, so no one could’ve but you could’ve heard. Your head snapped to the boy beside you, the only one who wasn’t standing.

Bran stared not at you, but far off, like he was seeing something no one else was. He seems... to do that. You made to disregard him but your heart quickened at his next words, so quick and rapid it was painful.

Bran turned to you calmly. His brown eyes, dark and as lifeless as coal, bore hollowly into yours.

“Viserion.” At the name, your blood ran cold. “He’s with him – the Night King.”

It felt like your throat closed, because suddenly you couldn’t breathe.

You whipped your head towards Dany, eyes wide with fear and terror, looking to her as if she had any idea of the news you had just received. Daenerys’s eyes flickered to you. Her expression morphed from confusion to controlled distress, alarmed at the utter horror on your face. Her visage swam as your eyes washed over with stinging tears.

Your Prumia, now an living-dead slave… Your Prumia, now your enemy...

Even if he was lying, even if Viserion wasn’t the pawn of humanity’s worst enemy, the wound was still fresh. And worst of all, you were alone in knowing it. Daenerys was all but gone to you, dancing around Westeros to secure her seat to rule. You were alone, full of grief and no one to share it with. It was too much. You had to leave.

Before you had known it, you were clipping through shoulders, feet speeding to the nearest exit. The gruff noises of indignation from Northernmen were all you left in your wake.

Daenerys watched you go, about to take a running step towards the door before she managed to contain herself into a hurried stride.

I can’t handle this – I can’t handle this –

Outside, you were running blind, narrowly brushing past corners. You were atop the battlements of Winterfell when you heard your name called out.

“Wait!”

Your eyes squeezed shut.

Suddenly, the floor turned to butter and your legs flew out from under you. Your eyes opened quick enough to see the snowy ground come up to meet you. Your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of the impact – but there was none. You registered thin arms wrapped around your waist holding you up.

You tried to turn your head, but it was hard to with Daenerys’s face in the way.

“Are you okay?” Daenerys asked incredulously.

You gathered your bearings and shrugged her off. She fidgeted at your cold shoulder.

“I’m fine,” you muttered. You turned away and tried to shield your face from her view. If you met her eye, you’d break.

“You’re not,” she pressed, stepping closer.

You didn’t respond, crossing your arms and stepping away.

Daenerys called out your name, distraught. When you didn’t turn around, she called it again, her voice hard.

You stopped in your tracks, before reluctantly turning.You still didn’t raise your eyes.

“Why are you…” she said, dumbfounded. She eliminated the distance between you both. She tried to compose herself, tempering her frustration. “You’ve been… distant… to me,” she finished, matter-of-fact. You balked at her in disbelief. Seeing her oblivious face brought out the worst in you.

“I’ve been distant lately?” you erupted. You couldn’t contain it. “Me?”

Daenerys flinched at your raised voice, before standing a bit straighter. “You’ve been avoiding ever since we got to Winterfell.” Her voice was measured and composed, but with an icy bite. Icy. Cold. That’s what she was all the time, wasn’t it…? Or how she wanted to appear.

But not with me. Never with me, you thought.

Your lips tightened bitterly. Somewhere inside you, you knew you were being cruel, utterly unlike yourself. “I’m surprised you cared enough to notice.” As a wind swept by, you bid yourself not to shiver. The cold of the north was unrelenting, but you refused to show weakness.

Daenerys bristled. “What does that mean?” she asked, exasperated.

There it was. You could see it on her face – she was disengaging from you, as she had been for the past few months.

Something in you flared.

“It means you can see to Jon if it’s company you desire,” you gritted.

Daenerys was taken aback. She narrowed her eyes. “I suppose it’s my fault for daring to care–”

“Well, you didn’t care to be with me before!” you cried. “You were just fine before. You were fine for months. ”

You could see on her face that she finallyrealized what this was all about. She looked at you indignantly, her voice rising as well. “I apologize that I was too occupied organizing an army to coddle you.”

Suddenly you felt like a child. Coddling?

Your eyes grew as cold and hard as coal. “And I apologize for being the only one of us who bothered to grieve for Viserion.” As soon as you said that, you could feel the pain you inflicted, and it hurt you as well. Her face faltered, hurt flashing across her features. Suddenly it was her who looked like a child.

“How could… how could you say that?” She stepped forward, fuming. “That’s not true–”

“Isn’t it?” you cried. You wrapped your arms around yourself. “You didn’t stop for a second and I grieved alone . I grieved alone because you were...” You sighed, fatigue showing in your visage. Your voice pitched. “Occupied.”

Daenerys was crestfallen.

“Occupied with trying to rule Westeros,” you croaked. Then in a whisper, “Occupied with Jon.” Daenerys looked guilty. Even if nothing had happened, she had caused you such turmoil.

“I love you.” You didn’t look up until she grabbed your hands. “I love you ,” Daenerys asserted.

She was deathly serious, her eyes bidding for you to understand. Believe me , they said. Of course, you did. You always had.

“I know.” Your body shuddered, tears starting to sting as you babbled. All your vitriol dissipated. “I just didn’t want to worry you, you’ve been so busy–  and now Viserion is with the Night King– And I was just going to handle it by myself– but… it’s... been hard.” Daenerys’s eyes widened with horror as her hands brought you closer. “It’s been so hard,” you whimpered. Once Dany’s gloved hands brushed against your cheek, you felt the dam inside you burst.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and you could hear that she meant it. “I’m so, so sorry,” Daenerys croaked. Her eyes were wet.

The clammer of smithing and the bustle of people down below, preparing for the long night, caught your ear. You nudged Daenerys away from clear sight. No one could see her like this. You felt shame. Daenerys wasn’t allowed to be vulnerable.

“It’s fine,” you breathed.

“No, it’s not,” Daenerys whispered in the embrace. “It’s not fine.”

“You’re trying to reclaim a throne ,” you said softly. “You’re trying to re-establish a dynasty.”

“And you’ll be by my side when I do,” she declared. She swiped at her eyes, recollecting herself.

You smiled even with wet cheeks. “I envy you. You’re always strong.”

Daenerys took a moment to look at you, truly look at you. She looked at you in disbelief. Daenerys played at being strong.

But you… she thought.

She clasped your hands, warming them instantly. “You are true strength. My true strength.”

She embraced you again, holding you close. It was cold out here. But you still didn’t want to move. The fur of her coat caressed you and her hair tickled you. It was hard to want to move while listening to the steady pat of her pulse and smelling the scent you had come to associate with home.

“He’s with him, Dany,” you muttered, pain twinging your chest.

Daenerys shushed into your ear, something she knew would calm you. And even though it couldn’t take you away from reality, it did calm you.

You blinked away the bleariness of your eyes, looking to the pale blue of Winterfell’s sky. In the distance, Rhaegal and Drogon seemed to float on the winds. You closed your eyes, but your heart still hurt. You smiled weakly into her skin.

It hurt, but it held a duller ache and you were here, in her arms.

It hurt, but it felt like healing.

[hisgirlwonder]

East to West - Part One

Length: 4.1K words Warning: Sadness, angst, Michael being an asshole, etc Synopsis: Palos Verdes called your name from the moment Michael suggested the move there. Would it live up to your expectations or would it be the beginning of the end? You were soon to find out. Notes: Since getting a tug at my heartstrings to write for Duncan and Jim the idea of this popped into my head. Fair warning about this series and that Michael is the antagonist. Jim is a precious little lamb who has graduated from school and he will get the life he deserves. PS. this is going to have a few parts because I have admittedly been struck with a plethora of ideas for the story. // (FYI: The name is more than just a play on the direction they moved in. If you can guess correctly what it’s about then you get a gold star.)

This had been a long time coming. You were growing sick of the concrete jungle you lived in and wanted to be closer to the ocean; the place where you belonged. Michael suggested making Palos Verdes your home and you agreed without hesitation.

“There you are,” you mutter when you spot Michael in the living room; head down, completely immersed in his phone and those slender, ring-adorned fingers sporadically tapping on the screen. You drape arms over his broad shoulders and whine like a child about the fact you’re bored. His attention remains mostly unbroken but he pipes up with a smart ass remark, “Hi bored, I’m Michael.”

He was beginning to impinge on your last nerve but you knew this is how it was going to be; being forced to deal with that constant regression into a state of immaturity. You push yourself off his chair and amble over to the couch, moping as you move, “Wow, what a great help you are.”

You slump down onto the couch and feel an ache bellow in your chest; unhappiness roaring inside, begging to be released. The lack of deliberation over your deep-rooted feelings recently had become too much and you can’t help yourself from complaining, “Ever since we arrived I feel like all I’ve done is watch re-runs of films and read the same handful of books. I’m going crazy, Michael. You’re at work all day, almost every day, and I have nothing but these four walls to keep me company.”

Why am I so unhappy? I thought moving here would make everything better. Closer to his friends, closer to the beach. Why do I feel so empty and unfulfilled?

He queries what you actually want to do but the words are flecked with apathy; sounding as if the care he was trying to convey was non-existent. If you likened Michael’s attention to anything besides himself as of late it would be a tiny drop of water in the ocean.

“Maybe I could take up an art class, make friends, or even get a job.” You suggest, trying to fight through your hurt with optimism. Michael responds with a mouthful of disbelief, “Get a job? Somehow I can’t see you working.”

Shrugging off the doubt you pick up a pillow and throw it in his direction. It hits and bounces weakly off his shins, falling to the floor. “That’s because I haven’t found anything that calls to my soul. Besides, you’ve never let me work.”

Michael doesn’t understand your need or desire to go off and work. He thought because he gave you everything that that should be enough. It was as if he liked to ignore your need for independence because he wanted you to be like the wife of all of the men in his growing company; a trophy to look at. You were wild at heart - longing for a challenge and for something to pour yourself into.

He disregards the last ten minutes that he’s spent putting your feelings down entirely when he breaks the concentration to look up and grin at you, melting your core into a puddle with those blue eyes. When he was like this, it seemed as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

“Sandy and Phil should be back from their holiday any day which means we can have them over for dinner. Maybe you can go with Sandy to the art classes she’s been attending? Phil said she loves them.”

Sandy and Phil Mason are the married couple who partly prompted the shift to Palos Verdes. Phil told Michael to bring his business here because “Palos Verdeans” as he calls them, would eat up what he was creating. Michael, never one to turn down a challenge or offer, accepted and the rest is history. You went along with it because after all it was near the beach and you were a water baby at heart.

*

Rumbles erupt from your starved belly as a reminder that you haven’t eaten so you stroll to the kitchen and open the fridge. Your hungry eyes peruse over the contents and settle on some fruit; also taking a bottle of water for good measure. You perch yourself on a seat at the counter and pop a few grapes into your mouth to sate your appetite for the moment. Past the sound of your teeth piercing the flesh of the fruit, you overhear Michael talking to someone.

“Hey Phil, it’s Michael. How are you doing? Yeah, I’m good. Getting settled in, you know the drill. Palos is great. Are you two back from holiday?”

There’s a break which you figure is probably Michael listening to Phil rattling off some useless information; a habit which he was all too guilty of apparently.

“Wow, that sounds like that would have been interesting. I was thinking that maybe you two and the kids could come over for dinner tomorrow night? You all can finally meet Y/N. I can show you a few things I’ve been working on.”

Another pause but this time when the silence is broken there’s a change in his tone as if he’s saddened by something Phil said.

“Oh, they can’t come? That’s alright. Y/N has plenty of time to meet them. What time works for you? Ah, That’s perfect. Hey, buddy, don’t bring anything. We’ll see you then.”

The focus drops from Michael and you start to guzzle the water to quench your thirst but are interrupted when he yells out for you to come to him. “God, what is it now?” you mumble under your breath as you’re wandering back over to where he’s sitting.

“What do you want?”

“Can you be a doll and organise something for dinner tomorrow night? Just don’t make anything with olives in it – Sandy hates those.”

Your brows furrow because you can’t believe the way he’s acting; forgetting how you’ve told him many times that olives are the one thing to make you gag. His lack of manners and preoccupation with the Masons were starting to get to you. The annoyance you’re feeling doesn’t stay hidden for long when you subtly drag Michael with a reminder of how long you’ve been together and questioned when you ever cooked with them. He doesn’t flinch and instead smiles, remarking how it will be perfect. You wanted to throttle him but you swallow the distaste and start to walk towards the stairs.

“Y/N?” Michael calls out as he’s headed in your direction. You’re standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding the bannister and you turn back to see that Michael is closer than you imagined.

“You’re going to love them, I promise. Their kids, Jim and Medina, are great. You couldn’t pick a better family.”

“I’m sure I will. But, right now, I have to plan what I’m going to wear tomorrow night.”

You continue as you were, running up the stairs to the bedroom.

-

A hum of excitement sings through your body while you browse through the dresses in your wardrobe. Nothing seemed to be fitting for the occasion until you got to the very last hanger – it held a plain black, mid-thigh length dress. You didn’t own anything fancier because that wasn’t you. Your style was more boho-chic – you preferred long, flowing skirts matched with bare feet than to shove them inside a pair of heels and wear a tight skirt.

You’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t cross your mind as to why and how you and Michael were still together – he thought with his brain, you with your heart; his style was sophisticated and suave, yours was something else; the music and art you love had soul – Janis and Stevie stole your heart and Michael could never understand that because he preferred classical music; you were a vision of natural beauty with your wavy, untamed hair and your sun-kissed skin with freckles adorning your upper cheeks and nose whereas he was always made up and looked incredible. You’d find yourself looking in the mirror and wonder what Michael saw in you. They say opposites attract, but this was “other ends of the spectrum” opposite.

You’re suddenly hit with a longing for the way things used to be, growing uneasy at the thought. Back when the nights were spent kissing every crevice and curve, plaiting his hair in spring right through the summer, singing to him as you play your guitar every Sunday in bed, after making love first thing in the morning. All of these things were slowly disappearing and becoming distant memories alongside your first kiss, your high school graduation, and learning to drive.

There’s a spike in your sadness when you suddenly remember your guitar was broken in the move and Michael is all too indifferent about it. He knew that it was your life and he did nothing to remedy the situation - you were soon to learn that maybe this was a sign from the universe to prepare for Michael breaking your heart repeatedly from this day forward. You think now or never and place the hanger on the hook on the back of the door before running downstairs to Michael.

-

Waving hands in front of his face proved pointless because he was locked into whatever was so intriguing on that phone. You wanted to throw it, break it, smash it into a million pieces but you know that wouldn’t do anything to diffuse the tension that had birthed itself in your marriage.

“You’re glued to that thing, I swear.” You nag; usually you’d lighten that with a sarcastic tone but today was not that day.

“Well, some of us need to work, Y/N.”

There was a taunt in his voice. A tinge of resentment, maybe. Michael was never really that vocal and the air of mystery that once drew you to him was becoming an irritation.

“Did I not just tell you earlier I’d go out and get a job?”

“Now, would you want to go and do something silly like that?”

“Because all of this is driving me insane, Michael. If you had bought me a new guitar like I’ve been asking you in the first place, then I wouldn’t be feeling like I want to rip my hair out.”

He doesn’t want to listen to you any longer and gestures in a direction towards the coffee table. “Take one of the cards and go buy it yourself. I just really need to finish what I’m doing for next week.”

Of course you do.

You grab his wallet and pulling one a card out at random then slipping it into the back of your phone. “I’ll do the food shopping for tomorrow as well,” you mention, throwing the wallet back on the table.

“Uh huh, uh huh, sure thing. Whatever you want.”

He’s not even listening.

“Maybe I’ll run away while I’m at it.”

“Sure, have fun, honey.”

Why do I even fucking bother?

“I’ll see you later, Michael.”

You storm off, snatching your keys from the bowl by the front door and slamming it shut on your way out.

-

Where are the guitars? There are records, there are music DVDs, there are posters.

Out of nowhere, a young man interrupts (probably younger than you) and asks if you need any assistance from him. He called you ma’am to which you laugh; a faint shade of pink painting your cheeks in embarrassment. With your sight on him, you get the feeling that he’s all too familiar but there’s no explanation you can think of as to why.

Your brain ticks over the small list of physical impressions that you notice. Firstly, the two of you both had wavy, brown hair. His seemed virgin and untouched whereas yours had been dyed; you were growing it out and currently were left with bleached tips. Secondly, his eyes are a beautiful blue; they felt from the few moments you looked into them that they could consume you whole with how deep they were. The third and final thing you notice is that, funnily enough, the two of you have the same beauty spot beside your right eye.

“Ah, no need to call me ma’am. Call me Y/N.”

“Okay, Y/N, can I help you?” He asks. His tone is sincere but charming all the same and it seemed like he really meant it when he asked if you needed help. Your eyes drop to his name badge and see that his name is James.

“Actually, you can, James. I’m his looking to buy an electric and an acoustic guitar and I need you to point me in the right direction. Do you have any Les Paul’s?”

“Do we?” he scoffs, “Of course. Follow me.”

The two of you walk across the room until you reach the cash register and he fans his arm across the wall beside; it’s lined with an array of guitars. “Here you are. These are what we have on display but we can order anything you like.”

“Thank you so much. Oh, I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be taking your time up.”

“It’s fine, honestly. It’s not every day I get a woman in here who seems to know what she’s talking about music-wise.” He admits and becomes flustered, switching abruptly to asking if you liked the look of anything in the shop. You’d been married for what felt like an eternity and had forgotten the simple signs of when a man is interested in you; blind to the fact that this guy before you happened to be visibly giving his attraction away.

You’re pulled towards the mahogany coloured one and figure it’s best to go with your gut. He tells you it’s his favourite and commends you on your excellent taste while pulling it down and explaining that it was a new model with a few modifications for easier playing.

Those blue eyes meet with yours and you become awash with calmness, unlike the all too hot to handle glare that Michael would stare at you with. You fall into a fixation on him until you’re snapped back into reality as a result of noise in the close distance.

“Thanks,” you smile, trying not to blush when you realise what just happened. “Can I also just get a Gibson? I like-“  

The sentence is cut short by a phone call from Michael calling to find out what you’re doing. You cover the mouthpiece with a hand, whispering loudly to the assistant that you’ll be one moment and walk off to the side to unwillingly take the call.

A sharp tongue hisses that if he was listening earlier then he would know. He shoots an attempt at a Michael apology (one where he makes it sound like you’re actually in the wrong) but you intervene, reminding him he’s always busy. After a deep exhale you continue, explaining that you’re shopping and you’ll make the vegetarian lasagne he loves so much. There’s a silence followed by a groan because apparently, Michael doesn’t want it.

He rattles off some excuse but you’re not buying it. You stare at the floor and try to massage the tension out from its hiding place in one of your temples. Unaware, he is watching you and feeling the discomfort. “Just send me whatever you prefer and I’ll pick up the ingredients.”

You lift your head back up and draw your phone away from your ear before holding it in front of your face to stare at the screen and flip a middle finger up at the screen. Michael was testing your patience and you didn’t know how long it was before you’d snap completely

As you’re walking back to the counter, you slide the phone into your back pocket and the assistant asks if everything’s okay; not long followed by an apology for listening. Your stomach suddenly feels as if it’s holding butterflies and they’re flying out of your throat when you stumble on the words “you’re so kind” and instead it comes out more like s-s-so kk-k-kind and you want to slap yourself.

You smack the bottom of your palm to your forehead, telling him to excuse your inability to speak. He’s laughing and you can’t help but feel like an idiot. “Smile,” he grins, explaining that you didn’t need to be embarrassed.

“Before you ask, the answer is yes, just be back before closing time.” His tone is half confident and half confused.

How does he know exactly what I’m thinking or how I’m feeling?

You attempt to hide the excitement by gnawing the inside of your bottom lip and hold back the smile but it’s seemingly all too obvious. “Wow, I was right. I knew it,” he clucks his tongue and throws his head in the direction of the supermarket, “Go and shop. I’ll be here, waiting.”

“You’re a lifesaver and who knows, maybe one day it’ll be you I’m cooking for,” you yell out as your feet walk towards the exit. You could have died the moment those words left your mouth. The two of you only just met about half an hour before and here you were almost offering him a meal. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

-

You’re only steps away from the store when your phone begins to vibrate - it’s a message from Michael telling you that to make whatever you want as long as you put meat in it. Suddenly the feeling of fuck it strikes and you rebel; leaving empty-handed and returning to where you’d rather be with an idea.

“That was some quick shopping. Can you teach me how?”

“Change of heart, I guess. Hey, James, do you know anyone who might want guitar lessons? We just moved here and I’m growing bored so I figure one way to entertain myself is by doing what I love; playing the guitar and teaching others.”

“As a matter of fact, I think I may.” He asks, picking a pen and a notepad off the counter and hands them over to you. “How are you liking Palos Verdes?”

“Amazing, beautiful, spectacular. Perfect for where I am in my life.”

“Oh come on, you can’t be much older than me.”

“I’m twenty-five but some days, like today, you need to add a zero onto the end of it.”

“See, you’re barely older than me. I’m nineteen.”

You scribble details on the paper then hand the pad and pen back. His eyes glance down to inspect your handwriting and he jokes about you giving him your number. You playfully tease, telling him only if he wants you to be his teacher. Anyone else would notice how obvious it is that he wants to say something else but he restrains and instead asks when you can start.

“We can start as soon as Saturday if you like?”

“Saturday’s perfect. It’s a date.”

He taps and clicks away on the computer, waving his hand in the direction of the machine to tell you it’s ready. You pull your phone out of your pocket and hold it over the terminal before tapping in the pin number and pressing enter.

Your cheeks heat up from those few words and you hope like hell he’s colour blind. It appears as if it may have the same effect on him when you see him rubbing the back of his neck. He interrupts the moment, providing a distraction from the slip of his tongue and hands you the receipt. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring them to your car.”

-

“Mikey, where are you? I have some great news!”

Michael knew something was up because you only ever called him Mikey when you were in a good mood. He appears and you thought he’d be happy (how stupid could you be) but his expression is confused, and he asked where the food is; lifting his chin and looking towards the car as if you’d tell him the bags were still inside.

“I figured we could order in.”

Michael stays quiet and crosses his arms, looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a look on his face as if to say order in, really? But you knew this would happen – you knew he’d be sassy because he’d done nothing but shoot you down at every corner when he was actually paying attention. You come fully armed, combatting the passive aggressiveness of his body language with some of your own.

“We could get a mix of different meals from that organic place we were reading about. If your friends are so lovely, then I’m sure they’ll understand.”

He throws down his arms, admitting defeat and begrudgingly claims that he thinks it sounds like a good idea. You try to break the cloud of the toxicity in the air, grabbing at his hands excitedly.

“Mikey! I got my guitars and managed to get my first student. I decided I wanted to give guitar lessons. It’s so exciting!”

You’re like a child again on Christmas who’s staring at the presents underneath the tree in bewilderment. Elation flowed through you and you thought Michael would share the same sentiment but he didn’t – he was like the Grinch; snatching every present away with one look.

“What? What is it now, Michael? What have I done wrong this time?” Tears well up to cause your vision to go glassy and fall from your eyes when you blink, spilling onto your cheeks.

“I just thought if you were that serious about getting a job it would be something a little more productive. Do you really need to spend all of your time playing instruments?”

His words sliced straight through your feelings of sadness and cut you deep. You wipe away the wetness from your face, curling your lip up and spit back at him, “I’m telling you right now I’m starting a business and you don’t seem to understand me.”

There he goes again with the raised eyebrow and crossed arms but this time he added in a cocked hip. You wanted to smack the holier-than-thou attitude out of him as he barks at you, “You call that a business? Strumming guitars for twenty dollars an hour isn’t a business.”

This is when you snap and your mouth explodes; causing you to speak what’s really on your mind. You’re edging closer to him as you say, “What the fuck do you expect me to do for work, Michael? Do you want me to tart myself up into a little skirt, cover my face in a thick coat of paint and call you Sir while I bend over and lick your shoes clean? Tell me because I’m all ears.”

You’re standing in front of him with what feels like nothing left to lose and you poke him in the chest.

“You know the kind of person I am and you can’t fucking stand it,” you mock him, laughing in his face. Your voice changes from mocking to stern as you begin to growl, “I really fucking love you but you’re treating me as if I’m a bug you’re attempting to destroy which makes me really fucking resent you. Don’t shit where you eat, Michael.”

You decide to take a breather and go outside to grab your new guitars before you really lose it. Once you’re outside you feel your phone vibrate again but you know this time it isn’t Michael so you’re slightly more relieved.

It’s me, your knight behind the cash register. The strangest thing is I’ve been talking about finding a guitar tutor and then you come along. Safe to say I’m more than excited for Saturday. – J

The sadness and anger dissipate temporarily as you read over the message again and again; completely unaware that this was going to turn into something bigger than anticipated.

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme  @sensitivethot  @sacredlangdon @sammythankyou @taintedaffairs @langdonsdemon @queencocoakimmie @1-800-bitchcraft (PS. if I can’t tag you, I can’t add you to my list so please make sure I’m able to if you’ve asked!!)

[mtvswatches]

Jane the Virgin 1x07 Chapter Seven

Spoilers disclaimer (please read before sending messages or writing comments.)

Stray thoughts

1) It’s nice to get a little more backstory to their first kiss.

NARRATOR: Unfortunately, as Jane described their magical talk, Xo had the distinct impression that…

XIOMARA: He sounds like a playboy, hon.

JANE: I know. I know. He seemed like he would be, but he wasn't.

JANE: He seemed so sincere.

XIOMARA: That's what makes a good playboy. You never feel like you're getting played.

Of course, this was before the cancer, the marriage, Petra’s miscarriage (I’m assuming it was a miscarriage, although this being a telenovela, it could have easily been a fake pregnancy, we’ll see…), and everything that has happened since the show started. Rafael was a different person then, and so was Jane. She seemed to be much more naïve and gullible back then.

The part I’m not buying, though, is how they managed not to run into each other for over 4 years? Like, she was working at the hotel he owned, wasn’t there any awkward encounters like EVER? The show definitely makes it sound as if they had gone by almost five years without seeing or talking to each other…

2) I have to say, I’m with Xiomara and with the stop sign on this one…

It does seem a bit rushed for them to get together, especially considering all the special circumstances that brought them into each other’s lives. And I’m sorry if I’m raining on the shippers’ parade, but they barely know each other? It seems they’re more in lust than in love, and the whole “meant to be” thing is more “meant to be in your pants” than fate. I really hope the show makes me feel different about this because I do enjoy their interactions so far, I like them as characters, and I can see the chemistry there, but I also need some depth to their relationship, you know?

3) Okay, so Rafael showed up and asked her out, and they almost kissed but Jane told him she needed some time and space, which, yes, good for you. But I don’t see that time and space thing lasting too long for some reason…

4) I have a feeling Petra would like to switch places with Jane right now…

5) The fucking nuns are using Jane as a fucking fertility attraction or something. Without her knowledge.

6) Did you know that I love Rogelio?

7) We all know I’m not fond of Michael, but… he did ask Jane point blank if the breakup had anything to do with Rafael, and she lied. Even if there were things Michael did that contributed to her deciding to break up with him, Rafael had a lot to do with it as well. I guess she was trying to spare his feelings, but… she lied. And Michael lying to her was one of the reasons she was broke up with him, so… that’s a bit hypocritical Jane…

8) Rafael is being a bit too pushy for my liking…

RAFAEL: Have you had enough time? Ready to go on a date?

JANE: No. I came to ask a favor, actually, which is totally unrelated to our current situation.

RAFAEL: And what is our current situation?

The girl asked you for some time and space, and it’s been, what? 8 hours? Seriously?

9) OF COURSE, he’s going to be in the club and will continue to push things. That’s so not the way to go about this.

10) Now, these two? They really are meant for each other…

NARRATOR: What you are about to witness is two creatures who are inherently dramatic attempt to behave like they are - not dramatic.

11) Desperate times call for desperate measures…

MAGDA: We can't keep him here forever. We might have to consider…

PETRA: What?

MAGDA: I know people from the old country.They could take care of him for us.

PETRA: Mother, that's crazy!

MAGDA: It is realistic. Now, here are your options: You kill him or let him go, and risk Milos finding you and then you'll wish you were dead. Your choice.

I’m not sure Petra is capable of murdering someone. Magda, on the other hand…

12) AWKWARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

13) Oh my god, is he twelve?!

JANE: Michael saw the flowers you sent, and he was so hurt it was awful.

RAFAEL: Jane, that wasn't my intention.

JANE: I know. But that's why I'm saying it's too soon.

RAFAEL: What, because of Michael?

JANE: Yes, because of Michael. We were engaged.I was I was about to marry him.

RAFAEL: I'm sorry. But, Jane, he's kind of been a jerk to me.

He’s acting like an entitled rich boy, isn’t he? He wants Jane so he must have her now, it doesn’t matter that she’s not completely comfortable and it doesn’t matter that she still cares about her ex-fiancé with whom she broke up a day ago! And how does he justify not caring about hurting Michael’s feelings or disregarding Jane’s feelings for Michael? “Ugh he was a jerk!”

I don’t like this side of Rafael, I hope he understands why this is wrong SOON.

14) OMG

JANE: Do you by any chance know my father?

15) And now he’s taking Jane’s request for time and space a little bit too seriously…

16) I LOVE ROGELIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

17) Get your shit together, dude…

Like, you want to date the girl who’s carrying your fucking baby, maybe don’t get salt licked by “a friend” right in front of her?

18) Well, it seems Petra has what it takes to be a murderer after all…

IVAN: Is that peanut sauce?

PETRA: I don't know. I just ordered chicken from room service.

IVAN: I have peanut allergy!

19) False alarm…

He even thanked her, that’s progress.

20) Hmmm, I’m not sold on how the show got Rafael to “refute” each single of Jane’s arguments. They simply have different points of views, and both of their arguments are valid. The most important one, however, is the fact that they clearly don’t know each other very well. It’s one thing to start dating someone who you don’t know very well under regular circumstances. That’s basically what we all do, that is literally how you get to know someone and find out whether you can have a meaningful relationship with them or not. But… Jane is fucking pregnant with Rafael’s baby… so the dating thing could potentially backfire in the worst possible way, and even if they intend to “put the baby first”, they cannot be sure that’s what they’ll do once their hearts are broken and there’s resentment or bad blood.

21) I guess I was wrong when I said Jane had a good head on her shoulders…

I’m sorry but I’m so not into this. It really feels like they’re in lust, and that’s just not my thing.

22) Rafael’s mom is totally going to come back, right?

23) Yeah, that whole “conversation that goes on forever”? I get it, I’ve had those. But it feels the writers are trying to fast-forward the most meaningful part of a relationship, the getting-to-know-each-other part, the slowly falling in love with someone as you learn more and more about them. It just happened overnight for Jane and Rafael.

I feel like I should like them, like I should be falling for them as they fall for each other, but it seems too… contrived. I’m not into it…

24) Oh, Petra, you deceitful SOB! You got me!

MAGDA: That was smart. Seeing his bracelet. You've earned his trust.

NARRATOR: Ah, yes, the classic "poison your hostage and then save him to earn his trusts" technique. Works every time.

MAGDA: I hope the rest of your plan works as smoothly.

What is the rest of her plan, though?

25) ROGELIO STOPPPPPPPPP

26) And now I feel sorry for Michael? What is this episode doing to me?

27) Oh, this trick again, Petra… it didn’t work with Rafael, though…

I’m guessing he’s going to sleep with her and not give her the money, to get back at her because of how she fooled him before…

28) rrrrrogELIOOOOOOOOOOOO

RAFAEL: Who are you?

ROGELIO: I am Jane's father.

RAFAEL: Oh, uh Oh, uh, it's nice to meet you, Sir.

ROGELIO: I wish I could say the same. Jane's mother was worried all night.

RAFALl: Oh, I am so sorry. We-we just kind of…

ROGELIO: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. I know your game. I used to be just like you. Ridiculously good-looking, with charisma, with swagger, notching girls onto my belt.

RAFAEL: No, that's-that's not what's happening

ROGELIO: I have had sex with a lot of women. Way more than you, I'm sure!

RAFAEL: I am sure that that's true.

ROGELIO: But Jane is different. Jane is special. Remember that. Or face the consequences.

29) “Deferred payment plan.” Yep, you’re not going to see that money, Petra…

30) Nope. I don’t like this, at all.

XIOMARA: And you're not me, Jane. You make smart choices, sensible choices.

JANE: Exactly. Because I was always scared of repeating your mistakes. And, mom, I'm just realizing, because of that, I've been afraid to take risks. Real risks.

XIOMARA: You've been smart.

JANE: I've been safe. And I'm gonna be a mom. And moms put their kids first. You know that better than anyone. So this is my last chance I get to follow my heart. Do what I want. And, yeah, maybe the timing isn't perfect, but I want to be with Rafael. He's a good guy.

There’s nothing wrong with being safe, especially when you’re having a baby. And I really don’t get Jane’s logic here? “I’ve been safe my whole life and afraid of taking risks so now that I’m having a baby and will put it first is the best time to take risks”? Maybe don’t? Especially if you’re taking a chance with the father of your baby who you barely know and you could potentially ruin your relationship as parents and therefore create an unhealthy environment for your child just because you had a whim and you were hot for the guy?

I know that I’m probably in the minority here and everyone loves Rafael and Jane, but I’m just super NOT into this. It feels too sudden?

I just hope the show somehow manages to change my perception of them, idk.

31) If anything, Jane’s and Rafael’s recklessness has helped Xiomara and Rogelio become the grown-ups, so I’m thankful for that. They’re still over-dramatic and ridiculous, but they’ve proven they can adult like the best of them if the situation calls for it.

32) …well, for the most part…

33) I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!

I ship this more than I ship Rafael and Jane hahaha!

34) Okay…

I’m totally indifferent to this. *shrugs*

35) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

[myfeels-havefeelings]

Day 3 - Two Can Play at that Game

Azel regarded Callen cautiously. The young man had been known to cause trouble, with complete disregard for the wellbeing of others. He’s been in and out of the correctional facility many times, now. Too many times for someone of his age. But he supposed it was warranted, considering all he's said to have done. What Azel didn't understand was why they sent Callen to him.

“So... You’re supposed to be my new therapist or something?”

“I'm not a therapist, or anything of the sort. Please don't refer to me as such.”

Callen shrugged. “They made you sound like a therapist, my bad. So what are you, then?”

“Nothing you’ve heard of, I'm sure,” he answered dryly. “Since you’re here, and I doubt they’ll let you leave anytime soon, why don't you tell me your age and a few of the things you’ve done recently?”

Callen raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. “Shouldn't you already know that info? They gave you my file.”

“Yes, but I’ve yet to look at it. It’s better for you to willingly give that information out; to show that I do not have complete control in this situation.” Azel ignored the suspicious look he was given, reaching into his desk drawer to pull out a medium sized notebook. “This will be yours while you’re here. Please use it at least once a week, preferably halfway through or near the end. That way I can better monitor your thought process.”

“How are you going to monitor anything if it’s only once a week?”

“Well, Callen, you’re going to be here for awhile so there will be a lot to look over in the coming months. And you are free to write in it more often than that, if you feel it is necessary.”

Callen took the book, putting it in the bag he was given when they first decided to send him here. “Right. Well, you’re not going to see much progress. And I'm pretty sure you’re gonna end up dropping me soon, anyway.”

Azel hummed. “We’ll see. Do you plan on answering my previous question?”

Callen huffed out a laugh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk as he clasped his hands, chin resting on his knuckles. “Since you asked so nicely. I'm 22, and the most recent thing I've done is-”

-

-

“I would have appreciated a heads up about how volatile he was, Kara.”

Kara chuckled, the sound coming out slightly muffled through the phone. ‘I thought you would have guessed that, with all the statements and reports about him.’

“I assumed he was unstable, yes. But not like that.” Azel sighed, running a hand over his face. “Is there anything else I need to know, that you have yet to mention?”

‘Not that I can think of. Everything else should be in his file.’

“And you’re sure?”

‘As sure as I can be at the moment. Listen, I gotta go. A new order just came in, and I can hear you-know-who screaming about it already. If I remember anything, I’ll call.’

“Okay, thank you. And please don't antagonize her this time.”

‘No promises. Bye!’

“Goodbye.” He sighed again after hanging up, running a hand through his hair. This would be more of a problem than he thought. He should go through the medical records, at least. That way he would know what medications he was taking - if any. He doubted they kept him on them once they moved him out of the facility.

-

-

“So, you didn't change your mind,” Callen mumbled as he sat down, setting his bag at his feet. “I thought you would decide to drop me, after yesterday.”

“I've dealt with worse. How are you feeling today.”

“That didn't sound like a question, but I suppose I'm feeling fine.”

Azel nodded, opening the folder on his desk. “Are you sure? Because according to your medical records they had you on antipsychotics, and a mood stabilizer. So I would assume you'd be experiencing withdrawal symptoms by now, since they've taken you off of them.”

“That would only happen if I'd been regularly taking them in the first place. Which, obviously, I was not. And I thought you weren't going to look at my file?”

“I haven't touched your file. Your medical records are in a different category, though. As that is information that I constantly need to be up to date on, as it is crucial to your wellbeing.”

“And everything else?”

Azel waved a hand, “Knowing how much damage you've done, and what exactly you did, isn't something I necessarily need to be on top of. That's information you may share on your own, if you feel the need.”

Callen gave him a blank stare before rolling his eyes. “Okay, sure. So what's the other reason you brought up my medical records? That couldn't have been the only one.”

“There's the fact that you didn't need any antipsychotics, considering you never showed any signs of psychosis.” He flipped the folder around, pointing to the section he'd circled earlier. “And the fact that the dosage they had for your mood stabilizer was entirely too high, which ended up having the opposite effect.”

Callen glanced over the paper, frowning. “So they were trying to kill me.”

“Wait, what?” Azel exclaimed in confusion. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Whenever I had to take the meds it made my moods worse when they wore off, which gave them more reason to hurt me. They were trying to get it to the point where they would have no choice but to-”

“Stop,” Azel interrupted, holding a hand up, “that's enough. I get where you’re going. But I really don't think they were trying to kill you, Callen.”

“Then what were they trying to do?” he asked as he crossed his arms over his chest, voice tinged with agitation. “Cause that seems like the only plausible direction, with how they treated me.”

Azel wondered if he should look at Callen’s file, if only to know what all they did to the boy. But he decided against it; it’s not as if they would put corrective measures in the records. It would be too risky, and there would be the possibility that the facility could be shut down from abuse and torture charges. Maybe he should have Kara look into it.

“At most, I think they would have you constantly sedated and under watch for being too violent. But if you were taking the correct dosage as often as this says you were supposed to, you would have been catatonic since you were also on unneeded antipsychotics.”

“A living corpse.”

“No.”

“It’s the same thing. Either way, I’d be pretty much dead. They were trying to kill me!” Azel winced slightly at the yell, sighing internally when Callen knocked the folder off his desk as he surged up out of his seat. “It was their faults in the first place! I never did anything wrong, they were just too much of little bitches to handle the fact that I was stronger! If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't have been out of my fucking mind. I wouldn't have hurt those people! But are they going to say that? Are they going to take the blame? Of course not!”

Callen kicked the chair over in his anger, and Azel watched in mournful resignation as he practically tore apart his Peace Lily plant in the back corner of the room while ranting about all that happened. At least he was getting information out of the fit. He’d have to clean up and replace the plant. He huffed. And it was a present from his father, too.

“Did you get it out of your system?” he asked after several minutes, mentally mourning the loss of his plant.

Callen panted from exertion, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He stared blankly ahead for a long moment before walking back over to the chair and setting it up, sitting down after. “Sorry. But that's what I mean. After they started me on the meds, I was like that after they wore off, but worse. And I felt threatened with them around me, so I lashed out.”

“Which is understandable,” Azel stated. “Please refrain from attacking my plants in the future.”

“No promises. So now what?”

“Now,” Azel started, reaching down to pick up the folder and the few papers that fell out, “we try to get you the correct dosage of the correct type of mood stabilizer. They were giving you a stabilizer for depression, when you needed one for manic episodes. After correcting that you should begin to have less fits.”

“And that'll work?”

“Let's hope it does, or you'll have to start working to pay me back for the damage.”

Callen snorted pulling his legs up, hugging his knees to his chest. “Sure. Hey, did you know I once skinned someone alive?”

Azel hummed as Callen began explaining the process, tuning most of it out.

This boy was going to be the death of his sanity.

-

-

Kara laughed at Azel's retelling of the session. 

“So you just let him explain in extreme detail?”

“It was better than the alternative of possibly sending him into another fit. Have you found anything?”

“A lot, actually. I was just waiting for you to finish.” Azel stood, walking over to stand behind her. 

“Here are the records of any treatments he received, down here are his hours in solitary confinement. Then...” She switched to a different tab, scrolling down. “These are all the times he was supposed to take his medicine, and the highlighted areas are the times he actually did. I also have video feed to go through.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Kara. Can you email those to me? I'll go over them tomorrow night.”

“Sure thing. Have you figured out why they sent him to you, yet?” she asked, turning to face him. “I mean, it's been three days. You'd have to know by now.”

“I don't think the higher ups at the facility fully understand what I do. They certainly wouldn't have sent him here if they did. But it's their funeral, so I suppose it was a good thing it happened.”

Kara grinned. “Should I tell her? We can start preparing now.”

Azel shrugged, moving to grab his things. “If you want to. It won't be for a long while, but early prep never hurts. I'll see you tomorrow, Kara. Take care.”

“You too, Azel.”

-

-

Callen was wide-eyed with surprise, eyes scanning over the papers in front of him. “You... H-how... How did you get all this? I know this stuff isn't in my file because they never report these things. What... Did you hack in or something?”

Azel waved a hand. “Not me, but an associate of mine. She's very good at digging things up. We also have video files of how you and the other patients were treated. We can take all of this as proof, and set up a very good court case against them.”

Callen frowned, setting down the folder. “Just a court case?”

“Do you have any other ideas?”

“Well, not really. But won't they just be put in jail? It’s not as if they can really do anything to them, considering how much money they have. They could probably bail themselves out, anyway.” Callen’s face twisted in rage. “That's dumb. They shouldn't be able to do that.”

“Avoid the table if you’re going to hit something, please.” Azel pulled the folder back to him, closing it. “Now, have you written in the journal at all? It’s been enough days; I thought I should ask.”

The brunet shrugged, pulling the journal out of his back and handing it to Azel. “I had a fit, last night. And wrote in it. I doubt it makes much sense.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Azel muttered as he flipped it open to the first page. He blankly stared down at the jumbled, scratchy writing before huffing. At least his thoughts were very obvious.

It wasn't my fault. I didn't mean to

They shouldn't be allowed to taser kids

She was so small and they HURT her

They should be burned, exactly like they did to the others

BURN THEM DOWN

Don't hurt anyone. Don't. You’ll be hurt

HE WAS A BABY AND THEY KILLED HIM

They should all suffer

Azel continued reading what he could, only slightly worried at the repeated statements of burning the place down. He paused when the writing changed from chicken scratch to perfectly readable, the heading just above being ‘How To: Burning Bodies’. He felt he should stop, but he would have to read this eventually.

Callen fidgeted uneasily as Azel continued to read, glancing around the room as his leg shook, fingers tapping on the desk. Writing during his fit had not been a good idea at all, and he was regretting it more and my each passing second. He doesn't even remember what exactly he wrote; he just knows there was a lot of angry words. Maybe he should have looked it over before coming in today.

“Callen.”

“Hm?”

“Stop picking at the chair. Walk around if you need to, but don't break anything valuable.”

Callen was out of the chair immediately, restlessly pacing around the room. He ran his hands over the spines of the few books on the wall shelf, tugging the petals off a few flowers as he passed them. He should have read it over before bringing it in. He shouldn't have even brought it in in the first place. How stupid was he? There was no way they’d let him stay after reading that. They were going to send him back, and he’d have to sit through all their “treatments” again to be “corrected” of his behaviours.

He didn't want to go back.

Azel watched in quiet worry as Callen stood frozen, shoulders hunched with clenched hands. This couldn't be good. “Callen, come here.”

He didn't move, didn't even seem like he heard him, so Azel stood and walked over to him. “Callen,” he said softly, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “are you alright?”

“Please don't send me back,” Callen whispered.

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Cause- cause you read it! I don't remember what I wrote, but I was so angry, and now you don't want me here anymore cause I'm too dangerous. You’re going to send me back.”

“I'm not going to send you back, Callen. That would be counterproductive; I would be sending you back into a dangerous environment that would set you off again. Sending you there would basically be forcing you into a situation where you have no free will; I would never do that to anyone.”

“But... But then what are you going to do?”

Azel led him back over to his desk, having him sit as he picked up the journal. “This page here,” he started, flipping to the third to last written page, “is where you started writing a plan on how to burn down the facility.”

“I... Yes.”

“You did not finish the plan, but I would like you to put some more thought into it. This is the only alternative to putting them in jail, after all.”

Azel grinned at the feral look on Callen’s face at the statement, gently patting his back. “Once you finish it, bring it to me and we’ll go over it. Alright?”

“You’re... You’re really willing to help me burn that place down? You’re willing to help me get everyone out?”

“Of course. I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't. And besides, the facility started it anyway. They should know other people can play their games just as well. And that's exactly what we’re going to do.”

Callen grinned, eyes shining with glee. “Thank you, Azel!”

“No problem, kid. Now go get some lunch, this session ran a bit longer than expected.” Callen nodded, putting the book back in his bag before standing.

He was finally going to put them down.

-

-

I’m actually keeping up with this, oh my gosh. This is part one of the bit with these two, and part two is going to be done with Day 4′s prompt. Thank you all for reading!

Day 1, Day 2 and Day 4 and the prompt list.

[wildroseofarran]

Hunting and Archery Practice || Salt, Emmanuel, & Judy

Salt: It was becoming a weekend ritual for Salt, sitting in the backyard between his tree and Emmanuel's property. Today, he was carving through a thick branch. Today was caltrops.

Judy: Today was also the day Judy decided she didn't feel like being a kid.

A baby white hawk was hopping from branch to branch on Salt's tree, alternately watching him and watching any bugs that came into her line of sight.

Salt: "Don't go too deep into the tree, darling," Salt called to the eyas.

Judy: Judy gave a tiny screech before settling on the branch closest to Salt.

Salt: "Come here," he called, tapping his shoulder. She could be where he could see her, away from the tree with its sticky webs, his possessions, and traps.

Judy: Another tiny screech and Judy was floating gracefully onto Salt's shoulder, settling in happily.

Salt: "Good girl." Realization dawned on him. Oh yes, this wasn't his young. Sometimes it was easy to disregard that fact. He looked around for her father.

Judy: Judy might not have been his, but the little girl was slowly growing to love Salt as if he were another of her uncles.

And her father? Well, he already trusted Salt enough to have him watch his most precious possession while he--also in bird form--found them a rabbit.

After dropping his prize near the tree, the much larger white hawk landed beside Salt.

Salt: "There you are," the spider sighed. Birds! Enemies. Yet here he was befriended by one. A consistent, constant man worthy of respect. The meal was examined and pointed at with his blade. No, actually, it was one of Emmanuel's. "Do you want me to break that down for you?"

Emmanuel: Much like his daughter, Emmanuel gave a screech. He also accompanied it with the bird version of a nod, which was more like a head bob.

Salt: "Alright. Clutch," he said to Judy, "not too tightly." Carefully he stood, minding her balance before heading for the rabbit.

Judy: Judy dug her little talons into Salt's shirt--not too tightly--and hung on, using her wings to help her balance as he stood.

Salt: Salt's hands performed with experience, breaking apart the rabbit with ease, breaking and spreading the ribs without so much as a wince. Another slice and the heart was pulled from the chest cavity. "Ahh," mouth opened to mimic, offering it to Judy.

Judy: After having watched Salt's butchery skills carefully, the heart was taken and eaten with gusto. One day Judy would be big enough to hunt her own rabbits but until then, she relied on her father.

Salt: The liver was then extracted, eyes returning to her father. "Will this be for you?"

Emmanuel: Salt was given another birdy nod of approval before Emmanuel hopped over to take the liver.

Salt: This was fine. Somehow, cutting into a rabbit to feet to a pair of supernatural hawks was just fine. A highlight of his afternoon.

Judy: It was a highlight of the hawks' afternoon as well. Very rarely did they get to share this part of themselves with someone outside their family. It was very...freeing.

Suddenly, Judy went very still. She spotted something.

Salt: Salt froze as well, trying to follow her gaze. A smile crept over his face. A mouse!

Judy: A mouse indeed! Judy left her perch on Salt's shoulder, flying closer to the fallen log that housed her prey, patiently waiting for it to pop out again.

Salt: "Today might be her first kill," he mused.

Emmanuel: It was impossible to tell, but Emmanuel was beaming with pride. A mouse would be a great accomplishment for his little girl. She'd already mastered the art of catching bugs--often in mid-flight. This was a good next step. They were birds of prey, after all, and even though they were supernatural healers, it was important to embrace this aspect of their nature.

Emmanuel assumed Judy's perch on Salt's shoulder, watching her watch the mouse hole like the little hawk she was.

Salt: It was just a natural response to stroke two fingers over Emmanuel's breast. He wasn't going to make another comment. He wasn't going to disrupt her concentration.

Emmanuel: Emmanuel didn't mind the affection. Not from Salt, anyway. If Salt was any other person he'd be pecked. Hard.

Meanwhile Judy was exerting all the focus a seven-year old possibly could. She tilted her head this way and that, listening for any movement within the log. The moment the mouse--blissfully oblivious--emerged again, it was dive bombed.

It never stood a chance.

Salt: "Brava!" Salt applauded. "Good girl! Good job!" It would be appalling to praise a human child for such a thing in the backyard of their home. Anything outside of a formal hunt, but to Salt this was natural. This was reality and it was worth praise.

Judy: Judy wasted no time in bringing Salt her catch, dropping it at his feet before hopping and screeching in excitement.

Salt: "Excellent catch. Do you want the heart of your first kill, or shall you do with as you see fit?"

Judy: She nudged the mouse closer to Salt, offering it to him.

Salt: Salt looked to her father and smiled. He was honored to have experienced this moment with the Gaias. "Thank you both for taking me in. I know I'm not the most... hospitable at times." He began to cut into the mouse. "Ovids, I was taught not to associate."

Emmanuel: Emmanuel rather thought the occasion deserved an actual conversation.

He left his perch and flew a little ways away before spreading his wings and undergoing his transformation. Feathers and beak receded, limbs and torso elongated, and in just under a minute, the hawk had become a fully grown man once more.

Emmanuel stretched and cracked his neck, smiling over at Salt. "We like you just the way you are, buddy. And we're glad you broke the no association rule."

Salt: "Well," Salt smiled. He loved watching that transformation. His were often instantaneous, so there wasn't something spectacular to admire. "Well...you're not true Ovids anyway."

Emmanuel: Emmanuel chuckled. "No, I suppose we're not. We're as unique as unique can get."

Salt: "You are. I've never seen your like. I believe I never will."

Emmanuel: "You're pretty unique yourself."

Salt: "I suppose. I haven't heard the call of my kind in some time."

Emmanuel: "One day you will."

Salt: "Of course. One day." He nodded to Judy's kill. "What shall we do with this?"

Emmanuel: "I say we cut it open and let her have lunch."

Salt: "What works in one form I imagine wouldn't in the other. Then again you both feed me insects without blinking." The knife was picked up once more.

Emmanuel: "You imagine right. When we hunt in hawk form we eat in hawk form. Otherwise I'd have to cook."

Salt: "Fine. I won't offer you the liver this time. She gets everything."

Emmanuel: "Seems fitting. It is her first successful kill."

Salt: "You didn't have to change back."

Emmanuel: "Only inconvenient part of being a bird is not being able to talk."

Salt: "Learning to speak was such a challenge."

Emmanuel: "I'll bet. How did your mom go about teaching you?"

Salt: "Listening to the humans in the nearby village."

Emmanuel: "They do say immersion is the best way to learn a language."

Salt: "We listened to the English. Greer listened to everyone. She picked it up so quickly she began to teach the rest of us as though she had been born human."

Emmanuel: Emmanuel smiled. "Sounds like she had a gift for it. How many languages did she end up learning?"

Salt: "Oh, I don't know. We were never so close. She clung to some of the others. We all had favorites."

Emmanuel: "Who was yours?"

Salt: "I had...Guy, and Cyn." He had attempted a closeness with Madog, but nothing had been good enough to save his brother.

Emmanuel: He thought about his own brothers. Kind-hearted Bash, ever reliable Arturo, fickle Piero.

"What became of them?"

Salt: Salt closed his eyes, thinking back on the ones he had been around to hear about. He shook his head.

Emmanuel: Even though Salt hadn't said a single word, he'd told Emmanuel all he needed to know.

He nodded. "I'm sorry, Salt."

Salt: "What's to be expected when I'm so old and it was so long ago."

Emmanuel: "Doesn't make it hurt any less."

Salt: "I suppose not."

Judy: Judy gave a soft screech and settled on Salt's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. She could feel his sadness.

Salt: "Oh, forgive me. I need to finish with your mouse." Thank you, Judy, he thought, for the distraction.

Judy: She gave another screech, nipping Salt's ear gently. Her version of kissing his cheek.

Salt: "Emmanuel, do you know any spells?" he asked, offering pieces to Judy as he spoke.

Emmanuel: "I know a few, yeah. Mostly wards but a couple others."

Salt: "This home, is it warded?"

Emmanuel: "Judy's bedroom is."

Salt: "That's all?"

Emmanuel: "Everything else has been protected but her room is the only one with serious wards."

Salt: "What happens within the wards?"

Emmanuel: "Severe physical pain."

Salt: "How do the wards determine?"

Emmanuel: "They read a person's intent to harm."

Salt: "What if the intent wasn't to harm, but to steal? Someone wanted to steal your little girl?"

Emmanuel: "That's a separate ward. There are a few."

Salt: "What must I do to obtain one of these wards for my tree? And please don't say nothing."

Emmanuel: "Well the spell itself costs nothing but you do need to obtain a few ingredients."

Salt: "What ingredients?"

Emmanuel: Emmanuel thought back. It had been years since he'd placed those wards. "A few herbs, some crystals, rock salt, iron, a butterfly or moth cocoon, and a sea shell."

Emmanuel: "Oh, and holy water."

Salt: Salt sighed, pulling his notebook from his back pocket.

Emmanuel: "I know where you can find a cocoon without really looking too hard."

Salt: "Do you collect those as you do books?"

Emmanuel: "I don't, but the nursery in town sort of does. A lot of butterflies like to hang out in one of their greenhouses. You're guaranteed to find a cocoon in there."

Salt: Salt nodded to this information, adding it underneath the ingredients. "I take it you don't recall the exact measurements?"

Emmanuel: "They're written in the book along with the spell."

Salt: "What do you want for this?"

Emmanuel: "Watch Judy while I go get the book from Bash?"

Salt: He blinked. Again, that trust. "Of course."

Emmanuel: "All right, I'll be back in ten minutes tops. Be good, angel baby." And off Emmanuel went.

Salt: Back to Judy. "Are you finished with your mouse?"

Judy: Judy bobbed her head.

Salt: "I don't know if your father would approve of my teaching you archery."

Judy: At that she hopped up and down in excitement. She'd seen her father practice and it definitely looked like something she wanted to try.

Salt: "There are two smaller ones I've made for you." Getting to his feet, Salt made his way to his tree. Slowly but surely the core of the tree was being hollowed out from the top, carved within with little compartments, just enough room for a single person to fit.

Judy: Salt's tree brought Judy infinite amounts of joy. It was like the secret magical places in the stories her dad read her, and Salt himself was like a magical character too. He was a spider and he could sit on the ceiling even when he wasn't a spider!

Salt: Out from the tree emerged two bows, followed by their maker. "Are you decent for human form, Judy?"

Judy: Rather than answer, Judy fluttered down from her perch and underwent the same transformation as her father, albeit slower and on a smaller scale.

Since she'd decided she wanted to be a hawk just after waking up, she was wearing her pajamas, sneakers, and a jacket.

"Yep!"

Salt: Salt smiled from his perch in the tree. "Judy, be very careful around this tree, alright? These here," he pointed to the gray webs facing the sun, they were loose and similar to cobweb. "Under no circumstances are you to touch this kind, understood?"

Judy: Judy took note of the web he indicated and nodded. "I won't touch them. Promise. Are they how you catch your food?"

Salt: "No. I'm not that type of spider."

Judy: She nodded again. "Okay. I promise I won't touch them."

Salt: "These are protection. If ever your father's wards fail, you're to run to the tree and hide within." The bows were set aside, walking down the trunk of the tree to offer his hand. "I'll show you."

Judy: "Do they trap bad guys?" she asked, barely able to contain her excitement as she took Salt's hand.

Salt: The little girl was pulled onto the nearest branch with a view of the hollow trunk. "It will not be pleasant, no. If all else fails you're to use your wings. Is that what your father has told you?"

Judy: "Yep. He says if something bad happens and he's not around to fly away to my Uncle Bash's house."

Salt: "Good. That's what I want to hear from your father."

Judy: "Then Uncle Piero said to use my talons and Daddy made a face at him."

Salt: The spider smiled. "Never be afraid to defend yourself if you must."

Judy: "Daddy said that too. He said if he gets a call from the principal he wants it to be because I defended myself."

Salt: "School, right. Yes. That's how it should be."

Judy: "What if I get in trouble for helping someone else defend themselves? Is that okay too?"

Salt: "I don't see why not. Helping those that cannot help themselves, if they matter. Don't help just anyone."

Judy: Judy nodded. Sounded perfectly reasonable to her. "Okay. I'll help the people who are nice."

Salt: "So, you still want to learn about archery?"

Judy: "Yeah! Can you teach me how to shoot arrows like Daddy?"

Salt: "Of course I can."

Judy: "Right now?" She was all but vibrating with excitement.

Salt: "I need to teach you the basics of archery first."

Judy: "Okay!"

Salt: The smallest bow, fourteen inches, was offered to her. "Do you know anything about a bow?"

Judy: Judy took it with both hands, treating it with the same care one would an egg. "It's what you use to shoot arrows."

Salt: "At it's very basic, yes." He began to list the anatomy, the nocking point and grip, the arrow rest, nock, belly and back. "Think you can remember all of that?"

Judy: "I can remember some of it." She began to list the parts that had managed to stick, pointing to them as she did. Remembering them all would probably require a diagram being drawn for her.

Salt: That would probably happen eventually. He still wasn't aware that he could obtain a diagram from his new phone to show her. The largest bow was pulled from the trunk of the tree. He then showed her the correct form for drawing.

Judy: Judy watched him as she'd watched the mouse, paying close attention to every movement, listening carefully to any explanation.

"Can I try?"

Salt: He nodded to the two smaller bows, the fourteen inch and twenty-something. "Try on those. See which feels better. It shouldn't be an arduous struggle to draw your bow, but you should feel the tension in the string."

Judy: She tried the bigger bow first in hopes it would be a fit, feeling mild disappointment when it didn't.

It was set aside in favor of the smaller one. The difference was noticeable and had a giant smile lighting up her face.

She drew the string back carefully, looking up at Salt for approval.

Salt: He drew his own again for her to observe the perfect straightness of his arm, parallel to the ground. "Like this. Your elbow is high."

Judy: Judy adjusted her stance, looking from her elbow to Salt's to make sure they were in the same position. "Like this?"

Salt: "Good. With time and practice the stance will become natural."

Judy: She nodded. "How long until I can hit a bullseye?"

Salt: "Not for some time."

Judy: "Can Daddy hit a bullseye?"

Salt: "On chance, not skill yet," he smirked.

Judy: Judy giggled. "He told my Uncle Bash he always hits the bullseye."

Salt: "That's called fibbing."

Emmanuel: "What's called fibbing?" Emmanuel asked, emerging from the woods with a few books cradled in his arm.

Salt: "Your bullseyes," said the spider.

Emmanuel: He gasped dramatically and turned to his daughter. "Angel baby! Did you rat me out?"

"Mayyyybe."

Salt: Salt only smiled. "Join us in the treehouse?"

Emmanuel: "I would love to." He indicated the books. "Got lots of useful information for you."

Salt: "Good. Thank you." He motioned to the bows. "Is this alright?"

Emmanuel: "'Course it is." Emmanuel smiled. "It's a good skill for both of us to have."

Salt: "From what I've heard, it's archaic."

Emmanuel: "Not for everyone. Lots of people prefer to hunt with crossbows."

Salt: "I've seen. A store in town. Bows look ridiculous now."

Emmanuel: "Complicated too, and for no reason that I can see."

Salt: "Supposedly easier for the inexperienced? Laziness."

Emmanuel: He chuckled. "I agree. Hunting with a bow should require learning how to handle one."

Salt: "Exactly," he smiled. "You should show your daughter your form."

Emmanuel: Before Emmanuel could answer Judy said, "Yeah, Daddy! I wanna see!" Emmanuel chuckled. "All right, angel baby. Give us a bow."

Salt: The largest bow was offered to Judy to give to her father, humored with the size comparison; it was as tall if not taller than the little girl.

Emmanuel: It was definitely taller, which amused Emmanuel to no end. Judy had to hold it horizontally.

"Thanks, sweetie," he said, smiling as he took the bow from her. He assumed his stance. "What do you think?"

"Your arm's straight. Good job, Daddy."

Salt: Salt was smiling from ear-to-ear. For a moment, he could pretend this was his family. "Soon he'll be teaching you everything you need to know, Judy."

Emmanuel: "You gotta teach us too. If you don't teach us we'll never learn how to hit the bullseye every time!"

Salt: "I won't stop until you can hit a bullseye, Judy." A look was given to Emmanuel.

Emmanuel: Emmanuel just smiled. Meanwhile Judy's face was dead serious.

"Promise?" she asked.

Salt: His family would have scolded him for making a promise he wasn't likely to keep, but still, he smiled and nodded. "Mhm."

Judy: Her expression cleared instantly, giving way to a brilliant smile. "Did you hear that, Daddy? Salt's gonna teach us until we hit bullseyes."

"He sure is, angel baby."

The little ray of sunshine turned back to Salt. "Can I shoot an arrow?"

Salt: "Hmm. That's up to your father."

Emmanuel: "Can I, Daddy?"

"I don't know, baby. Are you ready?"

She nodded.

"Are you really ready?"

"Yeah!"

"Then go for it."

Salt: "Show your father your stance first," he said, climbing down from the tree with his personal bow.

Judy: Judy took her bow and got into position. "Is my arm straight?" she asked, studying it.

"Not quite." Emmanuel crouched down next to her. "Bring it down just a tiny bit...there you go."

Salt: Salt kept his distance as Emmanuel instructed his daughter, letting her father take the lead.

Emmanuel: With his trademark patience, Emmanuel showed Judy how to notch an arrow, how to aim, and when the time came, how to release it.

She didn't hit the branch he told her to aim for, but she did manage to hit one in the general vicinity.

Salt: "Good job," Salt praised. "That's an excellent start. Now, let's work on your breathing."

Judy: Judy tilted her head. "My breathing?"

Salt: "Mhm. Archery requires proper breathing techniques."

Judy: "What do I gotta do?"

Salt: This was an easy way to teach two in one sitting. He carried himself over and smiled at Emmanuel. "Watch your father's breathing. This is why he doesn't bullseye."

Emmanuel: "Hey, I've come close a bunch of times," said Emmanuel, returning Salt's smile before picking up his bow again. "The breathing just isn't second nature yet. What am I aiming for?"

Salt: Salt looked to the tree and sighed. He wanted to paint that tree for their target practice. Impatient, Salt made his way to the tree and settled underneath it. "Above my head."

Emmanuel: "All right, I can do that." Could he hit a specific spot? Eh...40% of the time. Could he hit a specific area? Definitely.

Emmanuel notched an arrow and took his stance, aiming well above Salt's head.

Controlling his breathing as he was taught, he released.

Salt: Salt knew if the aim was weak he could dodge or catch if need be. His breathing remained steady as he monitored Emmanuel's stance. Any indication that the arrow was going to be shot low, he would have shouted a critic. The arrow was three inches shy of his ear.

"Good. Again."

Emmanuel: Emmanuel hissed out a breath as the arrow hit its mark. Three inches wasn't bad, but he knew he could do better.

He nodded and notched another arrow, this time aiming even higher. Breathe in, center aim, and release.

Salt: More central this time, so he could praise Emmanuel once more. Now he raised his hands into a circle above his head. "You're doing so well, you need a new challenge."

Emmanuel/Judy: "Lemme guess. Your hand circle is my bullseye." Emmanuel took a deep breath. Here was hoping his 40% success rate would help him.

Judy was far more confident. "You can do it, Daddy!"

He smiled down at her. "Thanks, angel baby." He notched his arrow. All he had to do was visualize. Imagine it hitting dead center and it would. Believe and it would. Another deep breath. He was a hawk practicing archery in the woods with a spider; he could believe anything.

His stance was taken, breathing controlled.....and release.

Salt: "Astute," said Salt. This was a hawk with superior vision. There were high expectations for Emmanuel, which was why he felt no surprise when the fera had hit the mark. Warmth tingled from his index finger; he inspected his nicked hand. "Excellent," he praised.

[makoto-naegi555]

Nature Boy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28144008/chapters/78273545

So after existing the room Makoto began to think

Fifteen of us met in the mail hall. Add Mukuro to the mix and you get sixteen. And including me, only six of us are still alive. Everyone else...is dead.

Dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead

Even Mukuro. (dead) Even she's undeniably dead. So the ones still left alive are... Me. (dead) I’m not dead (was dead) Byakuya.(dead inside) Hiro. (Brain dead) Toko. (Dead to me) Hina.(dead set on donuts) And Kyoko... (dead dad) Only those six people are still alive. Then there's no question...

Makoto: Wait, no! That can't be! I refuse to believe it! There has to be some other way... There just HAS to be!

Siramay: well of course its none of them! I assure you zetsu is none of the six students you mentioned.

As siramay said that his hand lifted up and started choking himself as he struggled to pry his hand away

Makoto: what was that!?

Siramay: trying to breath it has come to my attention I may be to open on identifying information about the mastermind so please disregard what I have said and will said and starting now I shall try to keep their identifying features to a minimum… starting now.

Makoto: wait but if it isn’t one of-

Siramay: STOP THINKING!

Makoto: but what about-

Siramay: STOP THINKING!

Makoto:-

Siramay: let me tell you what both you and the mastermind have in common you both need to STOP THINKING! just think about bears!

And as siramay said that when I tried to think back on what he said my brain was spammed with images of bears doing things… daw WAIT I SHOULDN’T BE THINKING ABOUT THAT NOW

Siramay: you’ll find out the masterminds identity eventually but for now you can’t find it out from me so please for my health don’t use my words.

And so with the new handbook in tow Makoto could now recheck the lockers and saw something very interesting as he saw the locker belonged to Yasuhiro interesting very interesting indeed and in the other locker he saw a pocket book in witch it was clearly Kyoko’s point of view in a plan to keep students in here as a final hope thing and then the final page revealing there are 2 despairs (or maybe we can say des-pairs) in this school bum bum buuuuuummmm needless to say this confused Makoto greatly but he kept moving forward with the investigation so Makoto went to the data center aka there lair, in which hina urged Makoto to open the monokuma door cause she was scared and they saw the monokuma control room

Siramay: BEHOLD! THEIR TRUE LAIR!!

IMPOSSIBLE THUNDER

…it smells like sadness in here…and a hint of gin.

Then they saw the control room and Aoi pressed a button summoning a monokuma outside that Makoto saw

Is that...Monokuma?

Siramay: he’s defenseless quick boop his nose!

Makoto: wah-

Siramay: come on give him cuddles I know you want to!

Makoto: Ngres-no!

Makoto said flustered.

Needless to say Aoi was controlling the monokuma then Makoto went back in the lair then Aoi wanted to leave the room after Makoto had an epiphany about monokuma being controlled.

Siramay: wait before you go let me do something.

Makoto: what are you going to do?

Siramay: um let me just… where’s the announcers…. OH HERE! then siramay set down a recorder as an old fashion song started playing (its not that old it came out in the 70s) that’s over 40 years ago! (Hm… I guess it is)

Makoto: what are you playing.

Siramay: David bowies heroes this is the 6-minute version to! just wanna give some good sportsmanship.

Makoto: so can we-

Siramay: no if we leave zetsu will turn of the song we need to wait.

Makoto: but that’s 6 minutes.

Siramay: yes it is

… so six minutes passed, and the song finished.

Siramay: ok we can leave now! also howed you think of the song?

Makoto: … I guess it was nice.

Siramay: you should see the other songs she has on her soundtrack.

Then once Makoto left the data center as a whole was locked then monokuma showed up.

Monokuma: Of course it's locked! Because the data center is now restricted!

Siramay: hey mono did you enjoy the David bowie music?

Monokuma: NO! it was terrible!

Siramay: haha you’re lying.

So anyway monokuma stated how they locked It so they could move again, that’s fair. So Makoto tried to ease Aoi on this as they kept moving forward and Aoi was planning to tell the others what they saw.

So then Makoto went to the headmasters room and bayakuya was there as well, byakuya found the class 78 (there class) student registry which talked more about MUUKKURROOOO BABY GIIIRRLLL

"Mukuro reappeared suddenly, and in the background an entity floats, close but just out of reach. The entity known as...the Ultimate Despair. Right now, I can't be sure if this is a single person, or some kind of group. Whatever it is, Mukuro definitely has some sort of connection to it.

"I have a bad feeling about all this. I need to push forward with my research into the Ultimate Despair. And I need to pay attention to Mukuro's behavior, too. This is just my gut feeling, but I think she's dangerous. Despite the countless battles she must have gone through as a member of Fenrir, when she entered Hope's Peak, she didn't display any signs of battle wounds or scars. That fact alone proves her tremendous skill in battle.

"Naturally, I want to believe in her. She's one of my students, after all. But if I decide she's a danger to the other students I will be forced to take all reasonable measures."

Siramay: mukuro had a big heart that’s for sure, I think I told you everything important on why mukuro did stuff, but she had so much heart she felt she had to follow zetsu side like the brave solder she was following her general even in death because she believed in her, I knew mukuro as king of villains I made sure we were friends! We hanged out a lot, I cared about her a lot I tried to talk her out of this Makoto, but her heart was set in stone she truly deserved better then what happened to her…

Mukuro...was a part of the Ultimate Despair. I don't think there can be any doubt about it now. But...wouldn't that mean Mukuro, and the mastermind were allies? So why...? Why would they kill Mukuro? Plus, even the headmaster seemed to be afraid of what Mukuro was capable of. They would've had to take her completely by surprise to kill her like that... Or...maybe it means the mastermind is even stronger than Mukuro was...

Siramay: ITS CAUSE SHES A NO-GOOD JERK THAT’S WHY!.... but then again I guess I give her to much or not enough credit see uh the truth Makoto… it was a delusional episode they did it on a whim not even because they wanted to but because they could.

Makoto: what?

Siramay: you know Makoto zetsu has untreated mental illness combined with a problematic alcoholism and spends all there time alone in a dark room its not good for her mental health at all! With all that its no wonder the thoughts in her head would tell her to do it

Makoto: you mean.

Siramay: yeah like! siramay then sets up and builds a Jenga set.

You know Jenga with all the building blocks and how you have to build a tower its like that when your alone so you just build the tower for a solo game but then you finish and you just get that little voice telling you to break the tower and your like “why” and they are just like we can break the tower right now so why don’t we and then your body just flies on berserk instinct mode AS YOU USE YOUR STRENGTH TO BREAK THE TOWER HEARING THE LOUD CRASH OF THE BLOCKS COLAPSING FEELING THE BLOOD RUSHING TO YOUR VAINS YEEEEEEESSSSSS but then its over its calm as you have destroyed all that hard work for nothing and its like “WHAT HAVE I DONE I destroyed the only thing I ever loved! Why did I do that! They never did anything wrong! I RUIN EVERYTHING!!” then siramay roles into ball sucking his thumb.

So yeah it’s kinda like that you know?

Makoto: I’ve never had that experience.

Siramay: well your loss so anyway it’s like that, had a wrong thought at the wrong time and she suffered for it, poor mukuro all those years of love and loyalty down the drain… I’m sorry.

There was also a picture of mukuro.

Siramay: isn’t she a beaut! OH YES I REMEMBER! she had a pet wolf named frank!

Makoto: frank?

Siramay: well Fenrir would be to on the nose frank was a good boy he ate the corpses of their victims.

Makoto: oh…

Siramay: he was a sweetie though sadly due to the… stuff I can’t say she had to let him go I hopes he’s ok OH WAIT and so with a flash of magic a big grey wolf appeared in siramays arms the snout of it was stained with dried blood as it started to growl.

Frank: GROOOWWLLLLL

Makoto: ah!

Siramay: hey frank its ok it’s me!

Then the wolf took a second to look at the dragon as his demeanor changed entirely as he started happily panting and wagging his tail. At this siramay started petting frank

Awe I’m sorry buddy but uh, your mommy mukuro is no longer with us.

Siramay said with a sadness before blushing heavily and awkwardly laughing.

Mommy mukuro hahahahah

But then he straitened himself out

But don’t worry! She trust me so I’ll take care of you buddy!

Then frank snuggled siramay for a bit before disappearing.

So cute, but anyway as byakuya was saying.

He talked about her size and measurements and such, but Makoto was just confused.

Siramay: S.O.S she's in disguise S.O.S she's in disguise There's a she wolf in disguise…

Makoto: ?

Siramay: think about it Makoto it will become clear eventually.

So byakuya was hinting stuff about the body (cause no one can ever just tell Makoto things ugh) then he warned him about Kyoko not that it really meant anything unless byakuya had some repressed gay for Makoto and was just jealous of Kyoko witch would be fair but to bad for you Ritchie rich cause he aint gonna be your man in this story, or series so Makoto finally left the headmasters room then Makoto went to the bio lab in witch he realized it was also a morgue for the dead bodies then Makoto went to the garden and realized the body was gone when he tried to search for it and saw the tarp in the tool shed he found out the tarp originated from the bio lab then after that he revisited the dojo but that was useless but after Makoto left a monokuma announcement played stating that he would give a hint to those who head in the gym so Makoto went on his way and saw hiro who was absolutely frightened anyway Makoto went in and monokuma showed him an envelope with a picture of the class 78 in it

Siramay: daw you all look so happy.

And while I could go on and on about the picture Makoto was kicked out of the gym and Makoto wanted to clear up the pictures with the others which is what he would have done if everyone didn’t reject to talk to him

Siramay: welp that sucks.

Makoto: I know

Siramay: if it helps I got a picture to

Makoto: they gave you a picture?

Siramay: well no but actually yes, I just have a habit of taking little nick knack souvenirs of my adventures and this was one of them so I guess I could show yah here.

Siramay said wrapping his left hand around Makoto to show him a picture but due to the way he was holding it his thumb was covering junkos face (because of course I was)

Siramay: look at you guys you’re all so happy its just seeing moments like this brings a tear to my eye.

Siramay said wiping his face.

Makoto: um siramay can you move your hand a bit?

Siramay: no

And with that siramay crushed the picture in his hand and burned it till it was ashes… (why did I do that? :(   )

Anyway while looking he went back to the bio lab, and toko laid there passed out, then they woke up as jack, so ham ensued, but they left and one of the fridge/morgue/corpse tanks where open oh and look Kyoko’s here to! And they were going to close it Kyoko decided to investigate it because it was mukuro so as Kyoko investigated Makoto asked about photo, but Kyoko admitted she didn’t see them (witch I guess is fair but seems like a disadvantage) I mean the mastermind may be unreasonable but there fairly unreasonable.

I wish I could go back and do the same thing, but what's done is done, I guess... Standing here looking at her...I don't think she's hiding anything from me. Is she right? Did the mastermind forge that picture as a trap to confuse us? That's gotta be it. There's no other explanation...

Siramay: you know Makoto, some good advice I give to my villains is that sometimes the best lie is the truth.

Makoto: huh?

Siramay: I’m just saying I usually don’t tell this to heroes, but I feel like its something you should know.

And when looking at the morgue Makoto realized with mukuro there where only 9 lights which was odd since “10” people died

Siramay: I assure you Makoto it’s not cause mondo is butter he’s right here!

Siramay said opening one of the boxes to show inside a refrigerated box of butter.

Makoto: DAH!

Siramay: yeah…. good thing I don’t like butter.

And so siramay closed it and after rechecking the tarps Kyoko was done and summarized what she learned from fondling mukuros body stating how her old wounds are in fact very important as they are her true death then they talked about her personals.

Siramay: geez you guys are so adamant about her vitals and junk, oh how weird that it.

Makoto: you literally know avid details about her past.

Siramay: yeah but I’m an all-powerful being that’s different.

Needless to say they confirmed mukuro was mukuro then Kyoko wanted to leave but Makoto wanted to at least close mukuros grave to honor her even if she was evil he still felt bad at her death, so they closed the grave together… then he asked about the pocketbook witch shocked Kyoko who gave Makoto a video that’s important.

Kyoko: But there's one thing I *am* sure of. When it comes to the mastermind, there's no room in my heart for forgiveness. I swore to destroy the mastermind. This is just one more reason to follow through on that.

…why did that hurt? anyway she talked about truth and hope and stuff then she left.

And siramay reopened mukuros grave

Makoto: why did you do that?

Siramay: I’m a grieving man to Makoto, and while I’ll admit my feelings for your other classmates went nearly as strong as yours I can say the truth that I feel 10 times the pain you do from her death and while you have properly grieved I have not, so just continue investigating and I’ll stay here for a bit don’t worry I can close it myself, but can’t you do that? Can’t you let a mourning man spend just a few more minutes grieving someone?

Makoto: … actually yeah I understand siramay, its ok just make sure to meet me when you’re done.

Siramay: of course

And with that Makoto left the room and when he was absolutely gone siramay grabbed mukuros course from the morgue and used his magic to tear a portal from the fabric of the world then I look at you

Siramay: this is what we creators call foreshadowing ;)

And with that I jumped into the portal with mukuros body in tow Afterall it was my duty as king to make sure she had a happy ending, but that would be another story for another time.

…

And so Makoto went to the av room to watch the cd Kyoko gave which was a vid of the headmaster talking to all the students asking them if it was ok to stay here forever in which every last one said yes even himself course before it could get to you know who the monitor went black.

Siramay who is behind Makoto eating popcorn and wearing 3d glasses.

Siramay: OH COME ON IT WAS GETTING TO THE BEST PART!

Makoto: AH!

Oh and monokuma was there to

Makoto: AH!2

Who basically is the reason the power cut off but of course he lied about the whole thing?

Makoto: Failure my ass! You cut the power on purpose!

Siramay: language Makoto!

Makoto: BUTT!

Then Makoto realized their memories might have been messed with

And then it was time for the trial

Monokuma: For anything that has a start, there has to be an end. And if the end comes, then that means it's time for a fresh start. There is no night that doesn't have a dawn... Although that dawn is totally pitch-black! There is no storm that won't eventually end... Of course, then that leads to drought! But as I said, every end is the promise of a new beginning. Which is why I'm sure we'll get to meet again. Because the end is only the beginning! We'll meet again Don't know where Don't know when But I know we'll meet again some sunny day Keep smiling through Just like you always do 'Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away So will you please say hello To the folks that I know Tell them I won't be long They'll be happy to know That as you saw me go I was singing this song. We'll meet again Don't know where Don't know when But I know we'll meet again some sunny day We'll meet again Don't know where Don't know when But I know we'll meet again some sunny day Keep smiling through Just like you always do ‘til the blue skies Drive the dark clouds far away So will you please say hello To the folks that I know Tell them it won't be long They'll be happy to know That as you saw me go I was singin' this song We'll meet again Don't know where Don't know when But I know we'll meet again some sunny day

 Anyway, let's get started! The beginning of the end of the class trial! Everyone gather once again at you know where! Puhuhuhuhu! Puhuhu!

It's about to begin again... The class trial...is going to start. The final class trial... The last time all our lives will be on the line... The last time hope and despair are on the line... I don't have a choice. I have to do this... Okay, then! This is the end...!

Siramay: ah well it seems like you are here, the final battle the great climatic show down where they will be defeated and you will conquer, that’s… great…

Makoto: siramay?

Siramay: yeah?

Makoto: you sound sad if you need to tell you know you can talk to me.

Siramay: oh no, no Makoto its nothing really

Makoto: is it about zetsu?

Siramay: …

Makoto: if there’s anything else you have to say about her before the trial please tell me.

Siramay: no, no its not like that its just… you know it’s not like I woke up one day and decided that I wanted to spend the rest of my life helping villains no that’s silly, you see uh I don’t know if I was just born like that or if I some how grew it in me, but I seem to have a natural empathy for villains.

Makoto: what?

Siramay: its true I can’t help but feel bad for them but not just bad but feel their pain all together in here he points to his heart I can just tell I feel this great squeezing in my heart when they suffer it hurts so much to see them hurt and since I have the power to help them shouldn’t I give them happiness where no one else could? I guess it’s weird but it’s true I feel their pain and that’s a fact.

Makoto: so what your saying is-

Siramay: they had a father figure you know.

Makoto: huh?

Siramay: yeah there bio dad was a jerk but that man who may not have been her dad by blood but he was her dad in heart he gave her the love no one else ever really could when she needed it most, sadly he also gave her the idea to be evil, but he wasn’t a bad man just crazy and lonely and he wanted to make her happy and thought that would help, they didn’t learn their lesson till it was to late, but maybe its not to late for zetsu

Makoto: … what are you saying?

Siramay: I knew this man Makoto; he was my friend and he cared for her more then anything else in his life. That’s why even though I hate her guts with all of mine… my heart can’t afford not to care…

[SIRAMAY] There was a boy. A very strange, enchanted boy

They say he wandered very far. Very far over land and sea

A little shy and sad of eye But very wise, was he

And then one day One magic day he passed my way. While we spoke of many things Fools and kings This he said to me

The greatest thing You'll ever learn Is just to love. And be loved In return

[SIRAMAY (MAKOTO)] The greatest thing (the greatest thing) You'll ever learn (you'll ever learn) Is just to love (love)

[BOTH] And be loved In return …

Makoto: so you’re saying they are hurting, and I should show them mercy.

Siramay: NO THEY’RE CRAZY AND THEY NEED TO GO DOWN! But I'm the king of villains.... so I just can’t help but feel bad for them... But don’t let my feelings blind you do what you think is best I won’t get in the way....