#the perceptive pair

[attorneys-against-court-violence]

Aaaaaaaauuuuuggghhh!

He care her so muuuuuuuuch!

[rawliverandgoronspice]

I think what particularly annoys me with the "zelda was always gameplay before story" is that... it's not true? At least I don't think it's true in the way people mean it.

Zelda games were always kind of integrating story based on the standards of the time. When game stories were in game pamphlets, Zelda's stories was in the pamphlets. ALTTP tried to tell a pretty complicated stories with the limitations of the time. OoT was actively trying to tell an epic, cinematic tale packed with ambiance and expand what 3D could offer that 2D games struggled with. Majora's Mask is deeply character-driven in many, many ways. Wind Waker and Twilight Princess are both pretty concerned about their stories, down to the point that some people were bored by TP's cutscenes in particular. Skyward Sword, from what little I have played it, is very very invested in its characters and their journey (and 2D Zeldas have Link's Awakening, Minish Cap... None of them are visual novels, but they are concerned with emotional journeys, character arcs, mysteries about their own world...)

What is true is that the narrative wraps around the mechanics, and not the other way around. The mechanics drive themes, aesthetics, emotional beats and character journeys; and that's great. The world is a puzzle, and the world is delightfully absurd when it needs to be, full of heart when it calls for it, dark and oppressive when it suits the player experience.

That does not mean the games aren't invested in their stories. Even BotW has a pretty complicated story to tell about an entire world rather than one specific tale or legend --all of it at the service of the gameplay, which is exploration and mastery of your environment.

So. Yes, none of the Zelda games are million-words long visual novels that care deeply about consistency and nuance; but stories don't need consistency or deep lore to be meaningful and serve an emotional journey. Again: gameplay is story. The two cannot be so easily parsed from each other.

And Zelda as a franchise obviously care deeply about story, characters and setting (and still does right now --otherwise there wouldn't be a movie), even if it doesn't try to imitate prestige narrative-driven games, which is great and part of why I love this series so much. Doesn't mean it couldn't have done better in the past, it obviously could have, but I feel like pretending that nobody ever cared about story or character is just... false? It's a huge disservice to the devs too. Some of them obviously cared immensely.

The "gameplay above story", at least in the extent to which it is paraded today to defend TotK, mostly, is a really recent development. And I think it's one that deserves to receive some pushback.

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[mollypaup]

i think a really great aspect of oofuri is how much it gets mihashi's ass for being overly timid and dependent. it would be really easy to write off the way he and abe interact as being abe's fault because he is overbearing, and a lot of people do, but it has some really great moments of going "hey, you cannot hide behind abe or depend on him to make every decision. it's not good for you, or him, or the team."

[typewriting-robin]

Promises You Can Keep

Jude/Robin OC (M x F)

Rating: T

In which Jude meets his match with a kind, sweet, and clumsy Robin who is tasked with shadowing him for her reports. She can't figure him out to save her life.//Noncanon, pre-relationship

cw: Jude being a serious pain in the ass, blood mention, canon-typical violence

Word count: 6371

note~ it is recommended but not required to read the OC/MC master list and scroll to the secod-to-bottom for Christabelle, the Robin that corresponds to Jude.

“Once upon a time there lived a beautiful princess…” she began as she was surrounded by the children of the priory, who kept begging her to tell her a story. She momentarily wondered if this counted as a lie but it was supposed to be fiction anyway. “Okay maybe she wasn't quite beautiful nor was she a princess. A viscount's daughter, yes?” She said as the children giggled around her. “Well once upon a time there lived a viscount's daughter. Her mother passed when she was but a baby and her father soon grew ill. Now living in squalor, her eldest sister works as a Tailor's apprentice while attempting to become a lady in waiting for the princess and her brother, a soldier stationed in India. But still there were too many mouths to feed.”

The children were enraptured but she knew it was time to switch gears. The story was too autobiographical so now it was time to create some fiction, even though she has no idea where her story would go. “The viscount's youngest daughter, afraid there were too many mouths to feed, left home, knowing her family would never ascend back into nobility and joined a convent. One day, she went out to run an errand and that's when a rather errant knight spotted her as she made her way across the city.” She really had no idea where she was going as she paused for effect. “He had followed her home, telling her that he required a spot of tea and the company of her time.”

“I love a romance!’ said one of the children. While it was true that she fantasized about marrying a knight in shining armor one day, she had only picked a knight for this story because it was the first thing she thought of. 

“Ah, but alas this isn't a romance but a dreadful tale for you see, the knight never left. He had collected many, many tithes and decided he would support the family if he had the girl's hand in marriage. Three times he asked and three times she said no. Until one day, a magical…hmm…uh, toad! Yes, a toad, decided to make its appearance, offering her a chance to escape the rude and errant knight. ‘Kiss me!’ it said but she wasn't so sure. But when she was forcibly dragged away from her family by the knight, the frog appeared and she kissed him.”

The children made various noises, indicating their disgust. “Then the girl turned into a magical frog where she lived the rest of her days in a pond not worrying about family or marriage matters. Or money. Or politics. The end.”

The children clapped…slowly and out of step, confused by her story. 

But what else could she do now that her father said he needed to borrow money for his medicine? It was all she could ever think of ever since he put himself in debt.

She checked the time on the grandfather clock. “Oh no!I have to go to the post office! Sorry!” She was now five minutes late. Adding to the trip to the post office, if she were lucky, she would be fifteen minutes late, at best. She would have to do a lot of apologizing to the manager and the other Robins.

And it was because on that day, on that chaotic day, there were no Robins around to help do the very sudden last minute night time delivery that cropped up just when she was arriving over half an hour late to her shift. All because she wanted to help that poor little girl who was being hurt by the man who later called her a thief.

That was the beginning of it all. The day where she had been sent on a nighttime delivery and encountered a nightmare. “You're from the priory? How intriguing! What do you do there, my dear?” asked Victor, their leader during their celebration dinner as if she hadn't just experienced the most traumatic moment of her life. 

But she knew to keep going along with everything so that she could live. Her father needed her. Her sister needed her. “Well, they haven't made me a nun but I sometimes keep the children there company and tell them stories. They really like storytelling, especially if it’s something they’ve never heard before!”

“How wonderful! Our Fairytale keeper knows how to weave a story.”

“Tch,” a voice said as he watched her with narrowed amethyst eyes, his fingers steepled. “Hogwash,” he muttered.

“Thank you,” she said, ignoring the sinister man who watched her from the table with what she suspected was murderous intent. He was the one who had called her revolting and offered to be her savior but he was just like the errant knight from the story she had told the children earlier that day. She thought he had left the party but sometime later that night, he had rejoined, sitting off to the corner, smoking a cigarette.

His gaze was always on her for some indiscernible reason, amethyst eyes cruel, fierce. Sizing her up. As much as she wanted to avoid him, something told her deep down inside that would be more difficult than she could ever imagine.

********

“I have a job for you, my lovely Miss Christabelle,” Victor said only a few mornings after she had (reluctantly) joined Crown. She was expecting this. William was standing beside him, which made her believe that he was a part of his assignment. At least it would be with William, who seemed kind enough.

Christabelle knew it was critical for her to do everything Victor would ask her to do within the month. That was her best chance at survival and returning back to her family, her sister, the orphanage at the priory, and her job at the post office. “A job,” she said as Victor poured her some tea. She could tell by the familiar scent that it was chamomile tea.

“We’ve been observing you,” William said.  That didn’t come as a surprise to her. Not in the slightest. During these past few days, she had talked to everyone at least once. Some of the men in Crown were easier to converse with than others, like Liam or even Harrison. Others were harder to avoid but she still made polite conversation with them no matter how hard she tried. And by others, it was Jude.

“And our dear William has noticed a rather…interesting observation,” Victor said. His hands showed an urging motion as if asking her to down the drink. She only took sips. “Now I must tell you that William has a talent for understanding group dynamics and knowing which skills are needed for a particular mission.”

Christabelle set the tea down, meeting Victor’s gaze. Much to her frustration, a droplet of tea fell into the saucer. She had the urge to wipe it and clean it but instead put up with it. “And what are my skills?”

Victor and William exchanged a glance.

Christabelle knew that probably wasn’t good. She knew of her own shortcomings. Her disorganization, tendency to act before thinking, her--

“You have a very kind and courteous temperament,” Victor said. “As your supervisor and aide to the queen, your primary task is to focus and shadow one person in Crown.” She nodded, setting the half empty teacup to the side. The saucer cracked, which made Victor tut before he continued. “Now, before I tell you who we settled on,I initially disagreed with William’s proposition as to who you could shadow but ultimately we believe that if there is anyone who could provide us with information regarding him and his curse, it would likely be for someone like you to break through his barriers.”

Christabelle began to slowly understand where they were likely going with this. They weren’t going to pick an easy man for her to shadow and as she racked through her mind the possible option, only one of them made sense.

She thought about Bartleby, the scrivener, and how she would very much prefer not to do this task being asked of her.  But it was life or death.

Victor seemed to have immediately read her reluctant expression. “Please don’t frown, Miss Christabelle! We promise if it does not work within a certain time, we will reassign you.”

William gave her a knowing smile, as if he were confident of the man he had chosen. “But I am never wrong in my observations, Little Robin, and if there’s anyone who can write a report on the curse of the Thirteenth Fairy, it’s you.”

*************

The Thirteenth Fairy. Jude Jazza. The man with the white and black hair and sinister appearance was the errant knight she had accidentally divined. Here in the flesh. Or at least that was how she perceived things to be based on his personality and the way he dealt with people. He was like the debtors her father owed. And Victor had tasked her with shadowing him.

He was there every day at breakfast, his nose buried in a book this time. She stares at the spine of the book, trying to make out what he was reading. 

“If ya keep tryin’ to poke a hole through my book, I’m gonna get real mad,” he said without setting the book down.

Christabelle stumbled on her words. Everyone in Crown was so nice and welcoming and then there was Jude Jazza, who was constantly in a foul mood, using the most bitter words against her. “I wanted to know the book you were reading,” she admitted. “I like reading books a lot and I'd read them to the orphans at the priory.”

Jude finally set the book down and Christabelle wished he didn't do that, showing her his sinister violet glare. “Are ya sure ya really wanna know? Don't wanna pollute the little bird’s mind,” he said with a snicker. “Ain't ya a nun or somethin’?”

She shook her head. “I wanted to be but they said I failed the rigorous training so I'm afraid not. That, and they also said I don't have the right disposition to be one.” She was a little too honest with Jude but the words tumbled out of her before she could stop herself.

Jude only rolled his eyes, handing her the book. “It's some hogwash about revivin’ the dead. Prolly too scandalous for someone like ya.”

Her first reaction was to question him. “How do you know that it could be scandalous? I might even enjoy it! Look! The author’s a girl! I doubt a woman would write something scandalous.” She handed the book back to him, which he didn't take.

Jude shrugged, getting up out of his seat. “Talkin’ to ya is a waste of o’ my time and I gotta get to the docks.” He quickly left her all alone in the dining room and bolted out of the room before she could even tell him that Victor was considering having her shadow him for the day.

Christabelle saw he left the book in front of where he was sitting. She gasped. “Jude? Jude! Come back!” She followed after him but he had already left the grounds. “You left your book…” she stared deeply at the cover. It was plain but the title was interesting enough. “Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus,” she read out loud to herself. “Well if he's going to be out all day and won't be able to read this, then maybe it's okay if I can read this book until he comes back…”

Christabelle plopped on a sofa in the living room and read the story, now on the edge of her seat. This book was over fifty years old but she found it fascinating, turning the page even as the men of Crown greeted her throughout the day. 

Victor had shown up at one point looking disappointed but not surprised that Jude had left before she could even tell him about shadowing him. “Not the easiest of my boys to ask favors for. I'm so sorry, my kindly Robin. I will look into any tasks you might help us out with in the meantime and pause on telling Jude anything related to shadowing him. Right now focus on making friends with everyone in Crown, my sweet little Robin! Don't you worry!”

Jude came back during supper and when he did, he reeked of cigarette smoke and salt. “Good evening, Jude. You left your book at the table today so I came here to return it.”

Jude eyed her warily, not saying a word as she left the book in front of him. “Ya didn't happened to have read it, didja?”

“I did,” she admitted. “It was a really great book! The ending was rather depressing but I can see how it influenced so many other books I've read. I saw some stuff there that I've seen in other stories I've read and that was…amazing!”

Jude grabbed the book, not engaging with her conversation. “Of course ya read it. Lil bird with nothin’ to do would read it.” His eyes met hers, which caused her to lose eye contact. She couldn't bring herself to tell him that his words were untrue. That he was…difficult to say the least.

There was a pause between them and she looked back at him. His eyes weren't giving her his usual glare, but rather a softer look. Less intimidating. Approachable. “Tell ya what, birdie. Ya returned my book to me fair ‘n square upon seein’ me so I'll waive the fee.”

“The fee?” She asked, confused. 

“It's my copy, not the library's so if ya wanna take a book from me then ya gotta pay the renter's fee.”

“You left it by accident, though.”

Jude said nothing, before clicking his tongue and leaving. Christabelle now stood in the room, alone, wondering why Jude didn't wish to talk to her about the book. It would have helped her for her records. 

*************

Even though it wasn't quite important in her curse research, both Jude and Harrison liked mystery novels. But little did she know that a mystery of her own would show up on her doorstep soon enough. 

When she opened the door the next morning, she was met with a single purple rose on the floor. It was beautiful, light colored in full bloom. “What a lovely flower!” She asked the maids for a small vase to contain it and keep it alive. It put her in a good mood for breakfast that morning. 

“Ya look nauseatingly giddy today,” Jude said in his usual dour tone. But nothing he could say could bring her down. 

“Are you reading the paper today?”

“What's it to ya?”

“I'm curious!”

He sighed. “I'm reading the finances. Gotta know the state o’ things.” 

“Can I read the sections you aren't reading please?”

Jude groaned then took out a section of the paper that he didn't care for. It was specifically about a gossip column for women, which didn't tailor to her interest. “No stories?”

“I'll loan ya a book if it means yer stop yer yappin’.”

“I'd love to read it but how much is the fee?”

Jude grinned. “That's for me to decide.”

Christabelle hummed. “Hmm…no thanks. I need to save for my theater funds. They're going to start performing The Taming of the Shrew next month and I'd really love to save up for it.” Liam had been cast as Lucentio. She didn't mention she had mostly been saving up for her father's funds. It was hard for her to hold her tongue but she kept her family life quiet since she didn't want Crown thinking she would inadvertently sell them out to her family.

Jude set his paper down. “Then I'll give ya a book then.” His grin was sadistic before he pulled a book from his cape, handing it to her. Moby Dick. The same author as Bartleby, the Scrivener. 

“Is there a fee for this one?”

He cackled. “Nah, I'll just let ya suffer with this one.” Jude stood up, the chair squeaking below him as he left for another work day. She was relieved that Victor put shadowing him or having to do anything with him on pause because he was so…difficult.

And speaking of difficult, Christabelle did indeed struggle with the book, with the prose being incredibly dense and the plot unengaging to her, but if anything, she was persistent. 

The next day, and the day after that, she was greeted by more purple roses at her doorstep. On the fourth day, she asked for a bigger vase to hold all her flowers. The flowers gave off a nice fragrance which helped offset her already messy room, full of books and fairytales recorded throughout the centuries alongside her own scribbles and notes.

But now the mystery was deepening: where were these flowers coming from? Now she had felt compelled to solve it. The problem was how would she even find out?

Alfons happened to be walking past the halls as he saw her holding today's rose. He was more than quick on the uptake. “It seems you've got a secret admirer, hmm?” he said, his voice slinky. 

“I do?” she asked. She decided to choose her words carefully in case her gut feeling was wrong. “I thought everyone in the castle had flowers delivered to them.”

Alfons got closer to her. “If by everyone, they mean you, then sure. How would you react if I told you that I sent them?”

“You did?” The flowers didn't seem quite his style but Alfons was an elegant man and roses were quite elegant. 

“Sure I did. Pretty little thing like you.” His hand slipped to her shoulders, moving closer to her neck. Slithering slowly towards the back. Slithering slowly, softly…

“Oi! What do you think you're doing?” A tired sounding voice cut through the moment. It was Harrison. 

Alfons retracted his hand, giving Harrison a wide smile. “It appears our Miss Robin has a secret admirer.”

Harrison narrowed his gaze at Alfons. “Let me guess, you were about to lay claim over something you didn't do.”

Alfons gasped, looking mock offended. “I only said ‘if’ I had sent it!”

Christabelle interrupted. “I only wanted to know where these roses are coming from, that's all. It's a nice gesture and I'd like to thank them.”

“It wasn't Alfons,” Harrison said with a firmness to his voice, his teal eyes narrowing at him. “Or me for that matter.”

“Oh. I see. Thank you for confirming with me.”

“There is absolutely no chance someone as uncouth as Roger would hand you such a delicate rose either,” Alfons said. “And conversely, neither would Elbert, for the opposite reasons.”

“For once you're not lying,” Harrison said. “Maybe it was from one of us, or it could be from one of our servants.” What he said opened up new possibilities. “But if I were you, I'd just enjoy the gift and let it go.”

Christabelle nodded. “It is a really nice gesture. I've never received gifts like this before. That's why…” she thought of her father and how pained he looked each time he had given her a gift for her birthday or Christmas. He always expressed his affection for her but his eyes did not lie. Eventually when she turned fifteen, she stopped asking for presents altogether and began asking for prayers and non tangible gifts. “I'll let it go,” she said, meaning her words. 

At least at that time, she did really mean her words. Ellis was at breakfast this morning, debriefing Jude on what they'd do today. Jude's eyes were closed as he drummed his fingers on his forearms. “Bloody annoyin’ when my men break their promises,” he grumbled, his mood sour. She was hoping to see him today to tell him she finished Moby Dick but seeing his mood made her stay silent.

Christabelle had gotten used to taking breakfast at the same time as Jude but right now his entire aura meant she should remain as quiet as possible. 

“Good morning Christabelle,” Ellis said. “Did you sleep well?”

She nodded. “Yes,” she said as Jude’s eyes opened and he got up from his chair, his cape flapping behind him as he walked away, his mood still dark. 

“Jude isn't happy today,” Ellis said with a frown. 

“I can see that. I hope he'll be happy later.”

“Mm. Are you happy right now?”

“Kind of,” she admitted. “I have to admit, someone's been leaving roses in front of my door this week. It's a very kind thing to do since no one's ever given me gifts like this.”

“I didn't know you liked roses,” Ellis said. “Can I give you roses too? It would make you feel happy, wouldn't it?” He had confirmed that he wasn't the sender of her roses. 

“That would be sweet of you. I would have to get more vases, but I'd really like to kn--.”

“Whaddya waitin’ for?” Jude's voice bellowed out, cutting through her voice. 

“Sorry, I've got to go.” Ellis bowed to her and left. 

She didn't mean to lie to Harrison, she didn't mean it at all at the time but her curiosity was gnawing at her. She needed to know. 

“Did they leave a note?” William asked as she approached Victor's office. The two men were conversing over matters. Christabelle only went to confirm if this was a normal occurrence. If she went straight to the source, then she would know what was going on. 

“There wasn't a note. That's the odd thing.”

“Ah, I see, Robin,” William said. “If I had sent you a rose, I would at least bothered to have signed it in this particular instance. And you said they were purple. Red is more my color,” he said. 

“That is a rather curious matter. My Little Robin is very sweet to my boys so it could be any,” Victor said. “After all, sweet birds do deserve lovely flowers.”

“How do you know it's one of the men?” she asked. 

“I know my boys better than anyone.”

“So does that mean you know who exactly sent it?”

Victor lurched, his hand dramatically on his heart. “Alas, with such errant boys as these, I'm afraid I cannot say for certain who sent what. But know that it was not William, nor myself.”

Christabelle smiled at them. “Thank you for confirming with me though.”

Christabelle had created a list in her head. That meant the rose had to be sent by Liam. It was poetic, really. Her favorite actor who was always crowned in flowers, giving her flowers every day as well. 

“Huh?” He said as he was leaving the laboratory with a bandaged hand. “You've got me confused with the wrong guy. That's not me!” He laughed. “You'd know if it were me. I like modern roses.”

“But you're so kind and poetic!”

“Hehe thanks, but nope! But we're in the same club now!” He took her hands and began to swing them together. “We're the Flower Recipient Club for Admirers!”

Christabelle later came back to her room to type her latest report and do some light reading, mostly short stories. It wasn't until after sunset when she heard a thump! Thump! outside. 

Her curiosity had gotten the best of her and she opened the door. Jude was outside, covered in blood. He was muttering something as he paced the halls. She tried to close the door but he had caught her. 

“Um…are you alright?”

Jude grumbled. “What kinda…”

Their eyes locked, her light blue ones with his harsh amethyst ones. “Um…do you need a towel?” It was the best she could come up with. “Er…for that uh…knife?” She pointed at the giant sword that was entirely sheathed and still bloody.

“Sword,” he corrected, not answering her.

Christabelle quickly left then came back with a towel, “What are you doing here?” She asked as she handed the towel to him. 

“It's my home too. I can roam anywhere I want, yeah?”

“Even with blood covered everywhere?” She never thought she'd have a conversation with a sinning man like this. She would have to pray for him soon enough, and pray for all of them, even though since she started living in the castle, she was now praying less and less. 

“Yer sure asking lotsa questions, bird.”

“I want to help in whatever way I can.”

He rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Listen…Yer too nosy, too innocent. That old codger, wantin’ me to babysit ya. Ridiculous.” He sheathed his sword, which dropped blood onto the tiled floors as he slumped forward. She wondered if it was his blood there for a moment but she dismissed the notion. He pointed the sword in her direction, his eyes shining with frenzied glee as she stiffened against the wall. “Nosy lil’ birds…when they flutter too close to the snake's nest…”

“They get eaten,” she finished, trying not to let her nerves get the best of her. His sword did not move. The scent of blood was overpowering her. “I did mean to help. Truly. And I wanted to talk to you about that book with the whale earlier today,” she stammered. And what was that about an “old codger”. Was that supposed to be Victor? Did Victor tell him that he wanted her to record him? She was trying to understand why in the world Jude had shown up here and what he was thinking.

Jude retracted the sword, still grinning. “Yer tryin to be a brave lil’ bird but I can see yer body reactin’ to my sword.” 

“I'm not going to pry, so don't worry.”

“All ya need to know is that this is what happens when ya make promises ya can't keep, yeah?”

Christabelle thought it was an odd conversation they were having but she could see where he was going with this. In a way, he appeared to be venting to her, as if asking to wash away his sins. “If you need to clean up in my room, you're welcome to.”

“Pfft. As if I'd go to a dainty saint's room,” he said, snorting. He wheezed as he began to laugh. Christabelle tried to hide her humiliation from him by giving him a smile. He was impossible to read. Much like Moby Dick.

“Well, um…goodnight then. Sleep well.”

Then as Jude began to make his way back, he took one step…two…then collapsed. 

Christabelle had to call for help to escort Jude to the laboratory, where Roger revealed Jude had gotten stabbed. Again. 

“What?” He wasn't acting like it. Or maybe he had been delirious. It was hard to pick up when one was delirious when they had a sword aimed right at you.

“This man gets stabbed every three business days so I'm used to it,” Roger said, patching him up. “But there's just something I don't understand. He was in your corridor and you two were talking before he collapsed?”

“Yes, that's about right.” She omitted the part where he drew his sword at her. Looking back, he did seem off with his movements. His posture was all sorts of wrong and his eyes…

“Did he appear delirious? He's a stubborn one. Especially when he's drunk or stabbed. He'll forget to come to me. But maybe it means he thought you could cure him, lil’ lady.” He laughed to himself.

“I doubt that.” She thought of how annoying she must have been towards him. She had become too accustomed to him and his blunt manner and had gotten complacent. “I'm just glad he's safe and healthy here with you.” She looked at his sleeping form, his breathing ragged but otherwise, fine. He looked younger than he acted which made her wonder even more about him, like his age and the things he had seen. And why he was near her room of all places after such an incident.

She thought about the book he loaned her for free, Moby Dick. It had been a tough read but she had made herself read it to the end through sheer willpower. If she could do that, then maybe she could eventually break through Jude's barriers.

Roger interrupted her swirling thoughts. “He'll be better by morning so don't worry your sweet little head,” he said with a wistfulness that she couldn't place. “But if something happens to him, you'd cry, wouldn't you?”

“Of course. I know him well.”

“Then make sure to cry when I am in the room, okay, lil lady?”

Christabelle didn't react to his extremely strange words. “Goodnight, Roger.”

She tried to sleep as best she could the next day but the sunlight felt harsh and unforgiving. She trudged out of bed and then got ready for her day. 

Upon opening the door, the purple rose laid on the floor, waiting for her, as if welcoming her day. She bent over to pick it up, wanting to take in its sweet fragrance but what she saw had almost made her drop her flower altogether as she gasped.

Immediately the phrase Harrison had quoted to her from Sherlock Holmes came to mind as everything flashed before her eyes: When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Because within the rose's beautiful, soft petals, small droplets of blood remained.

*******

Jude was at breakfast not that day, but the next. His movements were slower, more languid, from the way he held his spoon to the way he would let out a groan when he changed his posture on his seat.

Christabelle’s heart thrummed as this was the first time she was reunited with him after that episode but after discovering he was her apparent admirer. The main question she had was: why?

But this was Jude Jazza and she knew she would never get a straight answer out of him.

Jude’s gaze narrowed at her when he caught her gaze and she fought back the urge to look away. “Are you feeling better?” she asked, filling the unbearable void of silence. She couldn’t bring herself to ask him about the roses. Not right now.

“I’m here, ain’t I?” he said in a cruel, matter-of-fact tone. It must have been Jude’s rough way of saying yes, he was feeling better.

“That’s good.” She paused. The weighty silence began to fill its way up again.  “I finished Moby Dick,” she said, quelling it.

Jude smirked. “Ya did, didja? Good girl fer readin’ all that rubbish.”

She broke eye contact with him when he called her “good girl”. It made her squirm in her seat. Was he praising her or was he talking down to her? She couldn’t tell. “I didn’t like it much either,” she said. “The prose is too dense. But I understood Captain Ahab, to a degree.”

“So yer a bloody lunatic like ‘em, then?” Jude said.

“No!” she said. “I understood the part about wanting to meet your goals, even if you can never meet them. You still have to try. Of course, his way wasn’t, um…necessarily the best, but…” She thought of her goals. She had the wrong disposition to be a nun, but the right one in being assigned to shadow Jude.

“But what?” he barked, taking her out of her reverie. 

“It was what he wanted, I suppose,” she finished meekly. There was another pause. “I really didn’t enjoy this one, sorry,” She handed the book back to him from across the table. 

Jude laughed, taking the book from her. It was as if he couldn’t remember their last encounter. Which led her to theorize if he was leaving her those flowers was he injured? Drunk? She wanted to find out. 

Then Jude stood up. It was anticlimactic. She wasn’t even going to bother him anymore. Tell William and Victor that there was a zero chance that he--

“Oi! Bird. Are ya comin’ along or not?”

Christabelle turned around her chair at a faster pace than she expected. “Huh? Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He steepled his fingers. “Who else? The chair?”

“Where’s Ellis?”

“That boy hasn’t left the bloody office in days.” He turned his back to her, his cape swishing. She stumbled out of her seat before he could repeat himself.

This was it. He was giving her the opening she needed.

But instead, they were in a carriage, where space was cramped and she was practically smushed together with Jude. Christabelle disliked small spaces like this, reminding her of how much space she occupied, which led to thoughts about how she was one more mouth to feed.

She kept her knuckles over her knees, making herself small, looking out the window as the carriage moved. Her neck hurt from craning it, but she didn’t want to make eye contact with Jude, not when she was this close to him. She could hear him breathing, the sounds of his breath were punctuated with wheezing. He didn’t smell like blood, but rather carried his scent of sandalwood, but she knew he hadn’t fully recovered. She could see him staring at her, sizing her up out of the corner of her eye.

“Yer neck’s gonna hurt if ya keep going like that, stupid lil bird.”

She moved her face down, unable to meet his scrutinizing gaze. She had her chance to talk to him here but now that she was in close proximity to him, all of her thoughts disappeared.

Jude sighed, lifting his leg and crossing it before taking out a newspaper. She tilted her head up, now able to look across as he read. “I don’t get ya at all,” he muttered. “Weird lil bird.”

Christabelle was able to finally speak to Jude when he led her to his office after checking in on the various cargo boxes that were coming in and out of the port.

His office was small, narrow,  and cramped. If the carriage ride made her uncomfortable with its tight enclosed space, this was even worse with the numerous items strewn across the room. Jude took a seat in his plush chair, easily avoiding the stacks of items that were piled up to her waist.

Christabelle observed the space. Her hips were twice the size of Jude’s and she wasn’t known for her gracefulness. It would be extremely easy to knock down his belongings.

Jude’s voice interrupted her. “Ain’tcha going to sit down already?”

She moved forwards, trying to will her body to become narrow as she moved to her side, sliding so that she wouldn’t knock anything down. However,  just the brush of her hips made one of Jude’s piles wobble. She grabbed it, trying to keep it together before her other side made the other pile fall to the floor. “Oh crumbs.”

She peeked at Jude who was watching her with…some kind of amusement. 

That made her lower her guard causing her to bend down and pick up what she had dropped, making the stack she was just holding crumple on the floor. “Sorry!”

“Leave it,” Jude said as she struggled with the space. “Just sit down.” His tone was harsh but his eyes continued to show that same amusement, his elbows to his desk, his chin resting on his knuckles. 

Christabelle sat in the chair in front of Jude. It wobbled as she did. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. To bring up why he was giving her roses and lending her books or why he came to visit her the other night while covered in blood. Her nerves got the best of her.

“That kooky old man wants ya to observe me, eh?” he said.

“It was William,” she said, clarifying for him. “He made the suggestion.”

Jude’s hands dropped to the desk as he steepled his fingers. “That man and his absolute--” he paused, glaring at her. “Why would he send a clumsy, annoyin’ and ignorant lil princess at me?”

“I don’t know,” she said, trying to shrug off his insults. “But my goal is to survive the month and go back to my life. And if that means I have to watch over you and write reports about you and your curse then so be it. I will do anything to keep up my end of the bargain, even if it means being with you for the next four weeks.”

Jude’s eyebrow raised and he gave out an exasperated sigh. She could still hear his wheezing. “Alright…but I better not hear a single complaint outta ya like “No!” or “I wanna go home!””

She nodded. “Okay. I won’t get in your way.”

“Promise not to run till the end, got it princess?”

Christabelle was warned about making promises with Jude but this was one she knew she could keep. “I promise.”

Jude smiled and she felt something prickle at the back of her neck as he leaned forward. “I’ve always wanted a secretary.” 

“A secretary?”

“Think yer too good for it?”

“No! Of course not. I’ll help you if makes things easier.”

“It won’t. You’ll make it worse, I reckon. But as my secretary, ya better start cleaning up the piles of things ya dropped. And put it in the exact order I had them in.”

“Huh? But I--”

He leaned in further, his voice firm and commanding. “Ya better get to work, princess, or I’ll make sure ya never leave this room.”

Something stirred in her chest from his tone. “Right on it, Jude.”

“Call me Sir. Or Master will do just fine,” he said with a smirk.

“Yes, Sir!” she said, moving down to the floor where she had picked up and organized the papers and reorganized them until they inevitably fell again because she kept knocking them down with her body.

Which is why later that night, after a long day of being Jude’s beleaguered secretary that consisted of being on the floor,  she was baffled to see not just one purple rose at her doorstep, but three purple roses. 

“Jude Jazza is the most incorrigible man on earth.” She did the sign of the cross. These next four weeks were going to be long. “God help me.”

[robiniswriting]

i cant quite put my finger on what exactly it is yet, but the master and the doctor have some kind of insane energy as a pairing that attracts gay people specifically

[floydsteeth]

new oc!!!! Meet Odilia Elodie Lucinenne Abreo

Info on her down here (still a w.i.p will be updated as i go(im lazy ok and over excited to show her off even if shes underdeveloped))

Pairing: Leon (might change)

Age: 30

Backstory(kinda): Odilia is the youngest of 4, daughter of to earl Guillaume Abreo, having grown up in a loving household she was lucky enough to have an identical education as her brothers quickly excelling in math, science and gaining a huge fascination for astronomy, a field which was rather under developed in rhodolite. While yes her education was identical to her brothers, being a lady meant along with her tutor she had a governess teaching her of the more lady like things, the extra hours of learning were exhausting but she gained a love for the arts, and learned how to paint as well. At a young age she had managed to succour a position in an academy in the capital, her family residing closer to the border with bentonite, moving to the capital expecting only to stay for a few years, before moving back home to be married so she throw herself into her studies, she viewed these as her only years of freedome not being pressured to marry or debut in society, at the academy she started learning more literature and philosophy but her passions still lied in math and astronomy, she was surprised when she was given the opportunity to continue her studies in astronomy in rhodolites palace, she quickly accepted this opportunity thinking it would never happen again and seeing this as a way out of any possible arranged marriages. Living in the palace meant access to the library a place where she'd like to spend most of her time, but having only ever heard rumors of prince Chevalier she wasnt particularly enthusiastic to bump into him, but living in the palace makes it impossible to fully avoid the princes's. Even though she came to the palace for an education and an opportunity to start her research she quite enjoys the balls and social evwnts happening st the palace, realising that being a lady of science doesnt mean giving up being a lady of status as well, she will put her status of being a lady above her status of being a scholar, that doesnt mean she takes being a scholar any less seriously infact she takes it much more seriously for that reason, she needs to work less to be seen as a lady as she does a scholar.

Her relationship with leon: i honestly have no idea how they'd get together or why, i need to finish Leon's route :P

personality: shes a very headstrong, determind and confident woman, shes focused and goal oriented, curious and quite hardworking. she's social but not overly talkative, polite, perceptive and opinionated.

-More will be added soon-

@olivermorningstar @solacedeer @m-mmiy @keithsandwich @lorei-writes

Because i feel like you guys would wanna be tagged

[wolfragus]

@mothcpu why did you change that guy - @catboycephalopod

[absolutely-not-my-main-blog]

Hit FX sitcom It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia has genuinely compelled me to read and appreciate classic literature more than any of my many former years of school. I look at the silly rat show and am like I get it now, I'm gonna read Shakespeare, Beckett, Dostoyevsky, etc. and analyze the world for funsies, my grades 7-11 English teachers could NEVER.

[arospecsyourblockdudes]

Always thinking about them (the canonical PIDW fujoshis)

[whatever-you-can-give-me]

[ID: two images of wolfwood, from trigun 98 and trigun stampede, in similar fully sunlit lighting conditions, chosen specifically to show design similarities: light brown skin (98 wolfwood has a cooler undertone to his skin, stampede a warmer tone) a prominent nose bridge (more visible in the image of 98 wolfwood, straight with a slight curve) an open shirt collar, and a noticeably oversized jacket, as well as the way the punisher dwarfs their frames. End ID]

i’ve been thinking about the virulent unpersoning of stampede wolfwood again and while i’m not saying that criticisms of the stampede designs are complete unfounded. it’s not like studio orange was reinventing the wheel here. wolfwood is one of the most similar designs of the bunch, really, milly pending.

also. for the record. i’m not east asian so it’s not really my place to take this personally. but…

[ID: one of the earliest panels of wolfwood in the trigun manga, notable for the same oversized suit jacket as his later iterations and the way his eyes are drawn, almond-shaped and angled to imply a monolid, beside a photo of tortoise matsumoto (frequently cited as wolfwood’s main design inspiration) a japanese man in a suit with a wide smile and a prominent nose bridge). End ID]

[ID: a later illustration of wolfwood from trigun maximum, in color. his skin tone is closer to the reference of matsumoto above, with the same warm yellow undertone as stampede wolfwood’s design. his eyes are brown, once again with the almond shape and implied monolid. End ID]

…just something to think about, i suppose, next time the discourse carousel comes back around to various wolfwoods canon and fanon not being Of Color enough.

[chill-vibes-but-rainbow-panic]

the kalagan twins

but like-- seperately

for the bingo thingy

<3

Some of THE guys of all time!

Kilroy gets extra swag, because I mainly love identical-twins-designs, but he also has the cool cloak that covers most of his face, so I fw his aesthetic double

[chirpsythismorning]

Nothing has made me more confident in byler endgame than reading milkvan fan fiction set post-s4.

To be clear this is no hate to fanfic writers living their life!! This has nothing to do with the quality or anything like that! I actually do get a lot of entertainment out of this and give kudos when I’m left especially like WOW that really happened.

Initially, I did it just out of curiosity recently, bc I needed to know how some of them think or just simply want to imagine in terms of how the show will handle that early s5 interaction between Mike and El, and every single time it feels wrong. It feels like the most regressive direction the show could possibly go.

It’s often somewhere along the lines of El reminding herself she needs to live up to Mike’s claim that she’s his superhero and Mike telling her that Will made him realize it’s hard to open up but that once he did he finally realized he loved her ever since he met her…

I could not be more confident nothing along those lines is going to happen… 🤣✌️

[chubs-deuce]

I've had ENOUGH of this dude

[first-blight]

. . . i'm too aro for this

[halflingkima]

the brosca warden storyline is insane (affectionate) to me, and it's wild that I happened to choose it first.

I've not played through all the origins myself, but from what I gather in general, I think brosca has the least material effect on later material gameplay – all of the effect is in brosca's character choices/response, which is completely up to the player whether or not/how much to honor.

the 'dwarf commoner' origin title is misleading – brosca's casteless, classless, as low class as possible and fighting tooth and nail while being actively pushed lower. accepting the warden offer is the easiest choice in the world (even aside from escaping the dwarven death sentence) because it offers any level of respect as a person.

later, when they return to orzammar with the treaties, the city insists they were never born. there's record of their death: when they joined the grey wardens. according to orzammar, brosca's homeland, their origin – brosca did not exist until they became a grey warden, at which point they were considered deceased.

(on top of the official records at the shaperate, no npcs acknowledge that you're a dwarf, let alone from the city. you can speak – briefly – to your family, but they're the only ones who acknowledge your past. I found it frustrating while playing that the origin didn't affect much, but that affected my own gameplay; brosca's origin makes the political dilemma seem laughably simple.)

and then. when the archdemon is slain, whether or not brosca survives, they're made a paragon, which is akin to a dwarven god. brosca is immortalized in their people's mythology forever – the same people who refused to admit they existed until their legal death. (presumably bhelen minimizes or eradicates the caste system, but whether or not that takes –) the history of the paragon brosca will almost certainly erase their origin as a casteless dwarf. when, arguably, they wouldn't have become a paragon without that history.