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authenticcadence18 · 3 years ago

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“Can’t Help Falling in Love” Ch. 11

AO3

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

…

HIIIII HELLO EVERYONE!!!!!!! It’s been. Quite some time. 😅 If you’re still here THANK YOU!!!!!! It is greatly appreciated!!! I hope this chapter was worth the wait, lol!!

I posted the first chapter of this fic one year ago yesterday! Consider this chapter a celebration of that 😊. The past year has been…wild, to say the least, but writing this fic and getting to share it with you guys has been one of the biggest highlights of it!!!😁💕

Thanks as always to my lovely beta and friend @youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal, and thank YOU so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!!!

...

“Wait a minute!!!”

Phineas froze in place (which was ironic, considering his realization struck in the middle of removing the crumb cake from a very hot oven).

“You called me your little crumbcake in your letter! And we just made a crumb cake! That wasn’t a coincidence, was it?”

“It was 100% not a coincidence!” Isabella called over her shoulder as she rummaged through a cabinet across the kitchen. “I wanted to make a crumb cake with my little crumbcake!”

A handful of silent seconds passed. And then she shuddered, a frothing wave of decade-old secondhand embarrassment cascading violently over her shoulders.

“Okay, I’m never calling you that again,” she announced dryly (since said frothing wave of secondhand embarrassment was purely metaphorical). “It’s way too weird.”

“What?? No!!” Phineas gently set the crumb cake on the counter, taking care to make sure it wasn’t going to fall, before turning to face her. “Isabella, it’s not weird at all!! I think it’s cute.”

“You only think it’s cute because you like me so much,” Isabella replied with a grin. “Trust me, there’s PLENTY of better pet names out there. I’ll think of some new ones for you.”

She crossed to his side of the kitchen and set the plate she’d retrieved on the counter. “Alright, all we need to do now is add powdered sugar. Do you have a sifter?”

“I sure do!”

Phineas retrieved said sifter from a drawer and turned it over in his hands a few times.

“….I’m actually an expert powdered sugar sifter, you know….” he whispered conspiratorially.

“Oh, really?” Isabella replied amusedly.

“Yeah! A few years ago, my mom put me on beignet duty for the Mardi Gras block party,” he explained. “I built a machine to actually COOK the beignets but figured out pretty quickly I’d have to powder them by hand to avoid making a huge mess…it took FOREVER. Aaand I still ended up making a mess. But now I’m an expert!!”

“Those beignets DID taste really good,” Isabella mused. “I remember thinking the powdered sugar to dough ratio was perfect!”

(She wasn’t just saying that for Phineas’s benefit, though she knew he would appreciate the compliment. As a former-Fireside Girl and baked goods’ extraordinaire, identifying quality desserts was practically in her blood!)

“Thanks!!!” Phineas replied. “I’m surprised you remember that!”

“Well, YOU made them. Everything you make is extraordinary. Of course I remember,” Isabella replied with a soft grin.

“Well, I’m not sure I’d say they were EXTRAORDINARY…” Phineas chuckled sheepishly. “…but thank you.”

“They WERE extraordinary,” Isabella insisted. “And you’re welcome!”

“It actually took awhile to get the ratio right, I’m flattered you noticed!” Phineas replied. “I did a bunch of calculations to figure it out…”

Isabella just listened with a smile as Phineas rambled on about the intricacies of beignet preparation and set to sifting sugar over the crumb cake.

And if his focus faltered a little when she hugged his middle from behind and nestled her head on his shoulder to get a better view, he didn’t show it.

….perhaps getting a better view wasn’t Isabella’s primary motivator in this situation. But she’d been waiting over a decade to indulge in coupley activities with Phineas as an actual couple: she wasn’t going to let this opportunity to do so pass her by!

She was so enamored with his closeness and the gentle lull of his explanations, so caught up in the sweet domesticity of the moment, it took her a few minutes to realize…it had been a few minutes.

Was Phineas taking his time with this (relatively simple) task on purpose?

“…hey, how long does it take an expert powdered sugar sifter to sift sugar over a crumb cake?” she murmured into his ear.

“Normally? I assume it would take about half a minute,” Phineas replied matter-of-factly. “ …but . If said expert powdered sugar sifter is being hugged by the love of their life, it usually takes longer. Could take minutes. Hours, even.”

Isabella giggled (and bit her tongue to keep from squealing at being referred to as the love of Phineas’s life because aAAAAAH!!!!) and brushed a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping back and standing at his side. “As much as I’d love to hug you for hours, we don’t want the crumb cake to get cold.”

“Eh, I’d take a hug from you over warm crumb cake any day. But you do make a good point.”

Phineas gave Isabella a smile before pouring the excess sugar into a bag and setting the sifter down. Then, his eyebrows shot up, seemingly in realization.

“Hey....what if I started calling you ‘my little crumbcake’?” he asked. “Or just ‘crumbcake’? I don’t mind if you don’t want to call me that, but would be a shame to let such a cute nickname go to waste.”

Isabella hit him with a playful glare. “If you do that, you’ll find yourself on the receiving end of an ominous patch-related threat. Just because you’re my boyfriend now doesn’t mean you’re exempt from them.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Phineas grinned, not deterred in the slightest by Isabella’s ominous patch related threat-threat. “That’s the first time you’ve called me that!”

“Well, we’ve known our feelings are mutual for...what, over half an hour now?” Isabella shrugged. “And we’ve already talked about being in a relationship, so I figured you being my boyfriend was implied.”

(She definitely hadn’t been trying to figure out how to casually call Phineas her boyfriend without outright asking him if he WAS officially her boyfriend. And she certainly wasn’t very relieved that he’d taken being referred to as such well. No way.)

“Soooo…” Phineas slid his hand across the counter until it found Isabella’s. “…if you’re officially referring to me as your boyfriend….does that mean I get to officially refer to you as my girlfriend?”

He’d WANTED to be the picture of suaveness in this moment, to state the obvious as succinctly and matter-of-factly as possible.

…..but the quiver of excitement in his voice had likely ruined any chances of that.

Isabella beamed down at their entwined fingers and then back up at him.

“…yes. Yes it does.”

For a handful of seconds, they just gazed at one another fondly, hands still together, neither trying to conceal how happy they were.

Maybe titles like “girlfriend” and “boyfriend” were arbitrary, especially for two lifelong best friends who were already well aware of how much they meant to one another (both in a platonic and romantic sense).

But….it still felt incredibly special to finally get to be boyfriend and girlfriend. Partners. Together. Officially.

Isabella eventually broke the awe of the moment with a wry smirk and a joke.

“I like ‘girlfriend’ a lot better than ‘crumbcake,’ that’s for sure!”

Phineas’s eyes lit up at the latter nickname, and Isabella groaned as she realized what she’d done.

“....why did I say that...” she grumbled. “We’d moved past the crumbcake thing, why did I say that???”

“I think it’s because you secretly like that nickname and wanted to remind me of it...crumbcake,” Phineas replied with a playful nudge to her side.

“WELL….maybe you’re not completely wrong there…” Isabella admitted, resting her head on his shoulder with an over-dramatic sigh. “I guess it’s kinda cute.”

(She had to admit it was sweet that Phineas was fond of a silly nickname she’d come up with so many years ago. Perhaps it was a little embarrassing, but in a nostalgic, sweet way. And she knew Phineas wasn’t teasing her maliciously...it was all in good fun. And he genuinely thought her childhood antics were endearing!)

“I knew it!” Phineas exclaimed. “You like when I call you ‘crumbcake’!!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it get to your head,” Isabella replied, leaning back and reaching up to ruffle his bright red hair with a chuckle.

“Too late, it’s already up there!” Phineas gestured to his head matter of factly.

“Well! I guess I’ll just have to stand here until your brain short circuits and it leaves your head, then! Because, in your own words, your brain short circuits if you look at me for too long because I’m just soooooo beautiful.”

“True as that may be, if you really want to short circuit my brain, I think a kiss or two from you would do the trick faster.”

Phineas said this without thinking about it.

And subsequently flushed beet red once his brain caught up to his tongue.

…perhaps his lack of a filter would be enough to short circuit his brain.

Isabella, fortunately, didn’t seem phased at all by his suggestion. “Hmmm….” she murmured, tapping her chin thoughtfully and scooting closer to him. “In that case, I guess I’ll have to kiss you. It’s the only logical conclusion.”

“Uhhh…yup! It’s only logical!” Phineas agreed, trying his best to play nonchalant as Isabella wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a knowing smile (and failing pretty miserably at nonchalance because HE STILL COULDN’T BELIEVE SHE WANTED TO KISS HIM, HOW COULD HE PRETEND TO BE PLAYFULLY NONCHALANT WHEN ALL OF THIS WAS SO MONUMENTAL???).

Isabella burst into laughter at his thinly veiled enthusiasm.

Because this moment—this entire evening—was full of moments she’d always dreamed of but that had seemed like just that: dreams!

PHINEAS FLYNN was asking her for kisses, and he was smiling at her as if sharing a brief romantic moment together in the middle of his kitchen was as exciting and enticing an idea as, say, building a super-computer in his backyard.

It was so incomprehensible, so utterly opposite from the oblivious-to-a-fault Phineas she’d grown up with, that she couldn’t HELP but laugh.

Phineas laughed with her, though he didn’t quite understand what was so funny.

(Her joy and close proximity were more than enough to give him butterflies, though, so he didn’t mind.)

“Sorry, sorry!!” Isabella managed to breathe between giggles. “It’s just!!! If I could tell my younger self that you’d actually be asking me to kiss you someday, I think her head would explode.”

“I get that!!” Phineas replied. “If I could go back in time to last night and tell my slightly-younger self that I’d be asking you to kiss me this time tomorrow, I think his head would explode.”

He chuckled before getting a far off look in his eyes.

“Huh....I COULD do that…” he mused thoughtfully. “Go back in time. Talk to my past self about all this. It would certainly alleviate a lot of the anxiety I experienced before I confessed to you.”

“But you shouldn’t do that,” Isabella replied quickly. “Because it could change this timeline or zap us out of existence. I’d rather not be zapped out of existence. Especially not right now. And, besides...getting to confess to one another was worth all it took to get there, right?”

“You’re right…getting to learn about your feelings from YOU was the best!” Phineas assured her.

(This was one of the reasons he needed Isabella, to keep some of his more extreme ideas in check.)

“And I’d hate to zap out of existence. But….”

He blushed a little, suddenly feeling a bit bashful as he recalled why Isabella’d begun laughing in the first place.

“…..I’d still like a kiss from you, if that’s alright.”

“Just one?” Isabella teased.

(She hadn’t forgotten why she’d begun laughing in the first place either.)

Phineas blushed more than a little.

How could Isabella be so coy and collected about all this??

(And why was he even so flustered right now? They’d kissed a handful of times at this point, so there was no legitimate reason to get flustered….but Phineas was flustered anyway. Maybe because he’d never outright asked Isabella for a kiss before? And the mere fact that he could do that at all was a tad overwhelming?? And every few minutes he had to keep reminding himself that all this was really happening because he was still getting the hang of this whole relationship thing and despite everything it still felt too good to be true??? …who knew.)

“Well, more than one would be just fine! But—but at least one!! If that’s okay.”

VERY smooth, Romeo. Fantastic job. A+ flirting technique.

“It’s definitely okay,” Isabella whispered with a smile, tenderly cupping his face in her hands and drawing him close. “Though I appreciate you asking.”

Not much took Phineas’s breath away. He’d spent his life making the impossible possible, after all!

…but Isabella’s kisses did the trick.

And they weren’t just kisses, anyhow. They were promises, assurances, declarations of love he could feel, warm grins and soft caresses and genuine affection courtesy of his best friend (and girlfriend, now).

….frankly, he noted as said-girlfriend gingerly pulled away and coaxed his eyes open with a lilting giggle, it was a miracle he still remembered how to breathe at all.

She was smiling at him, the same smile he’d felt nestled against his and heard in her bubbles of laughter only moments ago.

He’d never realized how versatile smiles could be before today.

“Hey…guess who has hearts in their eyes now?” Isabella crooned, gently stroking his cheek with her thumb.

Phineas blinked, taking a bit longer than normal to come up with a suitable answer.

(He wasn’t used to thinking on his feet in situations like this. He wasn’t used to situations like this at all.)

Isabella’s pupils appeared to be heart-free. So she must have been referring to….

“….me?”

“Yup!” Isabella grinned and gave his nose a playful “boop!” “It’s like they always say: couples who break the laws of physics together stick together.”

She brushed a final kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling away from him entirely and turning towards the counter.

Phineas trailed behind her as she cut a slice of crumb cake (presumably for the two of them to share, as it was quite large) and slid it onto a plate, still a little dazed.

He was also interested in discovering a scientific explanation for the heart-eyes phenomenon he and Isabella had both experienced in the past half-hour…but he’d save solving that mystery for another day.

“…..how are you so good at this?” he managed to ask.

“At what? Cutting crumb cake?”

“No, I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish chuckle. “…the flirting, the banter, basic relationship stuff.”

(Because Isabella WAS good at basic relationship stuff. All of it was seemingly effortless for her, especially considering she’d never even been in a relationship. Phineas supposed he himself wasn’t COMPLETELY hopeless when it came to flirting—his comment about Isabella’s kisses earlier was proof of that—but he’d done that without thinking.)

“I’ve just had more practice!” Isabella replied cheerfully. “Waaaaaay more practice. I flirted with you a LOT when we were kids, you just never noticed.”

(That was probably good, all things considered. Isabella’s attempts at flirting when they were kids had left her with quite a bit of retrospective embarrassment.)

Phineas winced at the reminder of all he’d missed out on, on all the pinpricks of affection that he hadn’t caught and had instead flown far over his head.

“….sorry about that….” he mumbled.

“Hey, wait a minute. We’ve already been over this!” Isabella said sternly.

(She’d just been trying to offer him a logical answer to his question, not make him feel guilty.)

“There’s absolutely no reason to be sorry, romantic feelings are never an obligation. And besides!!”

She took a step closer to him…then another step…then another…until she was near enough to turn Phineas’s stomach to Doonkelberry jelly because was she planning on kissing him again???

But she didn’t kiss him again, instead just smirking and whispering, “…you’re very cute when you’re flustered…” before leaning back with a bright laugh.

For a few moments, Phineas was struck with the desperate need to HIDE and ESCAPE before Isabella noticed how red his face was.

…but then he remembered that she was, in fact, his girlfriend (a minute ago they’d been smooching, after all) and that his undying love for her wasn’t a secret anymore.

And, since he apparently looked cute when he was flustered, she was likely enjoying this immensely.

Whew.

“Well, I mean, you’re ALWAYS cute, don’t get me wrong,” Isabella continued. She grabbed the crumb cake-laden plate and two forks. “But when you’re flustered you’re ESPECIALLY cute.”

“Oh yeah?” Phineas countered. “Well…uh….you’re always especially cute!!! So there!!”

Isabella slowed to a halt and tilted her head at him with a chuckle. “Wait….are you trying to one-up my flirting? Or…are you trying to fluster me?”

“…..mmmaybe?” Phineas replied hesitantly. “…why, is it working???”

Isabella considered his question, taking note of the cheerful warmth spinning in her chest (and likely reddening her face a bit).

“…maybe just a little.”

Phineas didn’t attempt to hide his excitement this time, pumping his fist in the air with a whispered, “YES!!!!”

He quickly regained his composure, though.

“Well it’s GOOD that it’s working, because if it wasn’t working, I’d have to remind you that your cuteness is a scientific fact.”

“BELIEVE me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget about that,” Isabella replied with a snicker. “That was the closest you ever got to calling me cute when we were kids.”

“Hey! The mere fact that I acknowledged your cuteness at all when we were kids is a testament to just how cute you are,” Phineas stated matter-of-factly. “Because, well…you might not have noticed this, but I was just a tad oblivious to romance when we were that age.”

Isabella feigned a gasp. “WHAT???? No way, I had no idea.”

“It’s true!!!!” Phineas insisted. “….just like your cuteness being a scientific fact is true.”

The two of them burst into giggles at that.

“You know…” Isabella pointed out with a wry smile, “…for someone who claims to be bad at flirting, that was some pretty good flirting.”

(She was quite impressed, actually!)

“Well, I’ve got someone incredibly special to flirt with,” Phineas replied cheekily. “I couldn’t have done it without her.”

Isabella’s eyes widened at that, cheeks flushing bright red (because PHINEAS WAS TALKING ABOUT HER!!!!! HE THOUGHT SHE WAS INCREDIBLY SPECIAL!!!!!), and Phineas grinned eagerly before placing a hand on her shoulder and leaning in to kiss her.

That seemed like the right course of action here, to follow up a jovial round of flirting with a kiss.

(And it was the right course of action, judging from the way Isabella smiled and kissed him back.)

Perhaps he was getting the hang of this whole relationship thing after all.

…

Isabella took a moment to catch her breath as Phineas gently pulled away from her and gave her the world’s most adorable smile (and to overcome the temptation to just forget about the crumb cake and indulge in more kisses instead).

“…alright,” she exhaled. “…as lovely and sweet as all this flirting has been, are you ready to go outside?”

“Oh, definitely!!!!” Phineas replied, taking a step back. “I mean, it feels like it’s been ages since we made this crumb cake, it’s about time we actually eat it. You go on outside, I’ll clean up a bit! Just in case Ferb and my parents get back while we’re out there.”

“Sounds good!!”

Phineas made his way to the living room a few minutes later….only to find Isabella standing in front of the screen door, a blank expression on her face.

“Hey, everything okay?” he asked as he walked over to her. “I thought you were going to go outside.”

“Well…I was,” Isabella articulated slowly. “But….”

Her voice trailed off, and Phineas followed her gaze into the backyard as he finally came to a stop at her side.

“…..oh.”

The backyard was empty.

No stars.

No lanterns.

No light.

Even the picnic basket was gone.

All that remained was their blanket, still laid out beneath the tree, the only remnant of the last hour.

“Well.” Isabella cleared her throat. “I suppose we should’ve seen this coming, huh?”

Phineas didn’t respond, instead sliding the screen door open and stepping past Isabella and into the yard.

He just focused on walking, step by step by step. It was easy to keep his mind occupied with the mechanics of movement...that is, until he knelt beside the tree to collect the blanket.

Because tonight he’d had a second chance at a longer picnic with Isabella, which he’d initially chosen not to pursue when they were kids due to worries he hadn’t been able to explain back then...but the universe had taken that second chance away.

And now he had nothing tangible to express his affections to Isabella with. No inventions, no cozy sanctuaries for the two of them to snuggle up in, no physical manifestations of how much he loved her.

All he had was a blanket. Which hadn’t been enough to prolong their picnic when they were kids. And it hadn’t been enough now.

Their first moments as a couple were gone forever. He couldn’t get them back.

And this wasn’t the first time he’d built something for Isabella, only for it to disappear.

...why did it hurt even more now?

Was this going to be a normal occurrence for them? Phineas creating things, only for the world to irreverently take them away with no explanation as to why?

Because it was one thing to muse that kisses were as meaningful as big ideas while sharing a kiss with Isabella amidst one of said big ideas.

It was quite another to face Isabella without a big idea to prove the authenticity of his feelings.

And perhaps he could build something else right now, but….what would be the point?

A few tears stung at his eyes, throat burning and chest tight.

How could he build a relationship with Isabella if the world was just going to tear down his attempts to show her how much he cared?

“Gosh…it kinda feels like we’re kids again, huh?”

Phineas flinched as Isabella’s voice drew closer. He hugged the blanket to his chest as he stood, willing himself to not cry because he couldn’t cry, it would be silly to cry, all these thoughts of his were illogical. Isabella didn’t sound upset, and she hadn’t been upset when her birthday party disappeared all those years ago, she was fine, and this WAS a pretty regular occurrence for them in the grand scheme of things, so he needed to be okay. Plus, he KNEW she knew how much he loved her, he didn’t need inventions to tell her that but…..a part of him still hurt just the same.

“I mean, it genuinely takes me back! I feel like your mom’s about to offer us pie. And…..”

Isabella’s voice trailed off as she reached his side.

“Phineas?”

Phineas shut his eyes, but he could hear the rustle of grass as Isabella moved to stand in front of him.

“...Phineas, what’s wrong?”

Now her hands were on his shoulders.

He could’ve tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, to smile and laugh it off.

But...Isabella would probably see right through that.

And he was tired of keeping secrets from her, anyway.

“It’s just…..”

His lip quivered, and he sniffled before finally opening his eyes.

“....it’s gone. I planned everything and set up the picnic for you, so you’d know how much I care about you….but it’s gone…..and I wanted to keep spending time with you out here, at our picnic, because the last time we had a picnic it ended too soon and….I thought this time would be different, that we’d be able to end it on OUR terms and not because of it getting dark or anything. But it’s not. It’s like last time, and all the other times inventions disappeared before we were done with them and, I JUST!!!! I just….I’m sorry, Isabella….. I’m so sorry…..”

“Phineas Flynn. Look at me.”

Isabella took his face in her hands and gazed at him intently.

“You have nothing to apologize for. It’s okay! These things happen! And we still have the memory of our picnic, right? Didn’t you say that memories are your favorite things we made when we were kids?”

Phineas pondered that for a moment.

“.…yes…” he finally whispered.

“This is the same,” Isabella insisted. “We’re building memories! The inventions may come and go, but the memories will stay. And I will stay. Believe me, if disappearing inventions bothered me, I wouldn’t be your best friend.”

She smirked a bit and added, “And I wouldn’t be your girlfriend now, obviously.”

“I know, and you’re right!” Phineas replied quickly. “….but…..I just…..I wanted to show you how much I love you, Isabella. That’s what the picnic was for, really. I mean, I know I TOLD you how much I love you too, but for me, it’s always been easier to say that kind of thing when I’ve got an invention to back my words up….I guess, it’s a little scary to say those things when it’s just me. You’re braver than me in that regard.”

“You HAVE shown me how much you love me, Phineas…” Isabella whispered, caressing his cheek with a gentle grin. “You’ve been showing me since we were kids. And, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t love you because of your inventions and big ideas. I love you because you’re YOU. You’re Phineas Flynn! The kindest, most creative, most caring person I’ve ever met!! Everything that makes you you shines through in all your inventions, they’re an extension of who you are; but they aren’t you, you know? If I had to choose between spending a day using one of your most amazing inventions alone OR spending an invention-free day with you doing something super boring, say, watching paint dry, I’d choose the invention free day every time. I just love spending time with you….”

She trailed one of her hands down his arm till it found one of his, twining their fingers together with a comforting squeeze.

“I’m sorry our picnic disappeared, though. It was important to us, and it’s okay to be sad about it. ...do you want to set up another one? I can make paper lanterns, and I’ve got to have a picnic basket at my house. And there’s plenty of stars in the sky if you don’t have any more to spare.”

Her offer lingered in the air for a handful of seconds, and she herself seemed posed on the tips of her toes, waiting for Phineas’s answer.

“….no…” Phineas finally whispered. “….it’s okay. I know we have homework to do, building another picnic would take too much time. ….and you’re right. Spending time together….that’s what really matters. And you being willing to rebuild our picnic means a lot to me.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” Isabella replied with a gentle smile. “And we can just sit at the table, it’ll be like…an elevated picnic! With homework! So…an elevated study date picnic!”

She patted his cheek before withdrawing her hand from his face and turning towards the door.

But Phineas wasn’t ready to go inside just yet, wasn’t ready to put aside all the emotions tumbling around inside of him.

“Wait!”

Isabella whirled back around, head tilted ever so slightly.

“Yes, Phineas?”

Phineas took a deep breath.

How could he even express how he was feeling? How could he express his gratitude towards Isabella, express how loved and cherished she made him feel, express just how much her willingness to recreate their picnic meant to him?

“I…I just…...thank you, Isabella. So much.”

To punctuate his gratitude, he lifted the hand he held and pressed a tender kiss to Isabella’s knuckle.

“I’m really, just, so lucky. Lucky to be your friend, lucky to be your boyfriend…you know that, right?”

Butterflies whirled in Isabella’s stomach, stirred by the sincerity in Phineas’s voice and the warmth of his lips still lingering on her hand and the way he was looking at her.

She eased in closer, close enough to lay a reassuring hand on Phineas’s shoulder.

“…..we’re both lucky. Incredibly lucky.”

Phineas and Isabella weren’t sure who kissed who first. Perhaps neither of them kissed first, perhaps it was simultaneous, both of them knowing instinctively what the other wanted.

This kiss was different from their first, which had been a rush of new, giddy emotions, a celebration of their reciprocated feelings, the resolution to a lifetime (or, more specifically, nine chapters) of longing.

And it was different from the playful, giggly kisses they’d given one another inside.

It was slow, purposeful, intentional. A way to say thank you, for Phineas to convey to Isabella just how much he cherished her, and for Isabella to do the same for Phineas.

It wasn’t a happy kiss, necessarily. But it wasn’t sad either. They stood nestled within the complicated space between those emotions, mourning the loss of their picnic and summers gone by even as they celebrated them.

And though the ache in Phineas’s chest didn’t disappear completely, even after Isabella murmured a reassuring, “I love you...” against his mouth as she kissed him, it faded a little with every instant he spent close to her, memorizing the way her words felt and made him feel.

“I love you too.”

He loved her, he loved her, he loved her.

Ardently, incredibly, deeply so.

Perhaps someday, he’d find a way to express that love flawlessly, with an invention or words so breathtaking and perfect, he’d eliminate the ache, the feeling of misunderstanding, the disconnect between his affection and his ability to convey it, forever.

But for now. Beneath the stars…in this quiet, plain, utterly ordinary backyard…..Isabella seemed to understand well enough.

For now, just Phineas was enough for her.

And, though he hadn’t grasped it just yet (and perhaps wouldn’t fully grasp it for quite some time), just Phineas would always be enough for her.

…

Ferb spent the ride home from regionally-renowned restaurant The Boiling Pot trying not to laugh as his parents discussed how the complimentary breadsticks had tasted good but not great and how it sure was a shame that Phineas and Isabella hadn’t tagged along with them because they would’ve loved the fireworks! And where had those fireworks even come from, anyway? What did “Gitchee Gitchee Goo” mean?

Ferb, of course, knew Isabella and Phineas were likely getting along just fine on their own.

He also knew precisely where the fireworks had come from. And what they meant. (He was a founding member of Phineas and the Ferbtones, after all.)

But he wasn’t about to spill the beans to his parents: Isabella and Phineas would have that honor.

“Have you heard from Phineas at all?” Linda asked.

Ferb glanced down at his phone and cracked a smile while scrolling through the messages he’d sent to Phineas over the past hour.

Phineas hadn’t responded to any of them, which wouldn’t have been a surprise even if Ferb hadn’t known he was spending time with Isabella. His brother wasn’t the greatest at replying to messages that didn’t need replies, especially when he was attending to other matters.

“I have not. I’m sure he’s fine, though.”

Ferb had done his best to stall at the restaurant, to be quite indecisive about his order and insist on buying dessert and give Phineas and Isabella as much time alone together as possible to figure out their feelings (because it was Phineas and Isabella: they needed all the time they could get), but one could only prolong the inevitable for so long.

Thankfully, the inevitable was about to happen.

(Well. Technically the inevitable had likely already happened, considering the fireworks. But Ferb couldn’t be absolutely sure until he got home because, again: it was Phineas and Isabella.)

“I wonder what Phineas and Isabella have been up to…” Laurence mused as he pulled in the driveway.

Ferb stifled a snicker in his elbow.

“Probably smooching,” he thought. “Or having heartfelt conversations about their feelings. Or just being sappy and sweet. Actually, it’s likely a combination of the three.”

He sent a quick text reading, “We’re home!” to Phineas before climbing out the car and heading for the door.

(Just in case they were partaking in the first of his proposed activities.)

Fortunately, Phineas and Isabella were not, in fact, partaking in the first of his proposed activities.

…but Ferb was more than a little perplexed by what they were up to instead.

He found Isabella and Phineas huddled over a textbook, graph paper, and calculators at the kitchen table, with an empty plate and two forks strewn off to the side.

Ferb’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight, confusion and apprehension prickling at his gut….because all of this seemed suspiciously platonic.

Sure, his brother and neighbor were seated QUITE close to one another. And the single plate and two forks seemed to indicate they’d shared food.

Both of those activities could be interpreted as romantic.

But they could also be interpreted as totally platonic (or, well, “totally platonic” in Phineas and Isabella’s case).

And Ferb also couldn’t be sure Isabella had seen the fireworks. Maybe they’d gone off too soon. Or too late. Maybe she’d been inside while they went off. Or asleep. Anything was possible in Danville.

Thus, Ferb couldn’t be absolutely, assuredly sure Phineas and Isabella were officially together until they told him. Or he asked them.

But he knew he shouldn’t just ask them, because if they hadn’t figured things out yet, asking them would just ruin the surprise and the four years he’d spent in silence about their mutual feelings would be for naught and HE WAS INCREDIBLY TIRED OF ALL THESE SECRETS—

“Woah! Hey, Ferb!!! I didn’t even hear you walk in the door!! How was the restaurant? .…and….how long have you been standing there?”

Phineas’s words rang hollow in Ferb’s head. He only barely comprehended his brother’s final sentence.

“….long enough to wonder whether you two have finally figured things out….” he muttered.

“OH! We sure did!!!” Phineas replied eagerly.

He gestured to a particularly complex-looking equation and continued, “This problem right here stumped us for awhile, but Isabella finally figured out we have to use the general Leibniz rule to solve it!!!! Honestly I can’t believe I didn’t think of that sooner, though I guess my brain has been a little preoccupied tonight…”

Ferb was going to fall over. He was going to fall over and then stand back up and grab a pillow and wack Phineas over the head with it because HE’D HAD AN ENTIRE ROMANTIC PICNIC AND FIREWORKS AND CONFESSION PLAN AT HIS DISPOSAL, HOW COULD HE BE TALKING ABOUT CALCULUS RIGHT NOW???? HOW HAD HE AND ISABELLA NOT FIGURED THINGS OUT YET??????

Isabella, meanwhile, glanced between Ferb (who looked about ready to snap something in half) and Phineas (who seemed blissfully unaware of that) before giggling. She placed a hand on Phineas’s shoulder and patted it gently, prompting him to look back at her.

“Phineas, sweetheart,” she voiced matter-of-factly, “I think Ferb is trying to ask if we started dating.”

She turned to Ferb and brightly added, “We DID start dating, by the way!!!!”

“Oh!!! Right!!”

(Phineas felt a little silly for not grasping that on his own, but it was alright.)

“Yeah, we started dating!!! Surprise!!”

And just like that. Relief. A mountain’s worth of pressure, over a DECADE’S worth of pressure, lifted from Ferb’s shoulders.

He sank into a chair opposite the happy couple and exhaled.

“….oh thank the stars.”

…

At last….Ferb can rest 😌.

ALSO MASSIVE SHOUT OUT TO MY BETA FOR COMING UP WITH “THE BOILING POT”!!!! I wanted to make a pun based off “The Boiling Isles” for the restaurant name (any Owl House fans here? 👀), and she came up with that and a couple other options and I LOVE HER THANK YOU FRIEND.

I sincerely hope you all enjoyed this chapter!! (And I sincerely hope the next update doesn’t take so long😅. But no promises, lol!) The end of the story is in sight…might take a couple more chapters to get there, but WE WILL GET THERE👏

As always, comments/reblogs/tags/likes are very much appreciated 😊💕

EDIT: OH ALSO!!!!! I owe a massive shout-out to @palizinhas. They write FANTASTIC Phinbella fic, and their story “Another Plan” inspired me to add the hurt/comfort scene into this chapter (I’d previously written it and decided to cut it).

#It’s been so long since i formatted a fic chapter for tumblr it feels weird #Not bad weird #But #weird #lol #anyway! Thanks for reading!!!#Chfil #Can’t help falling in love #Phineas and ferb #phinabella #phinbella #phineas flynn #isabella garcia shapiro #cadence writes #pnf fic

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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If you're still accepting prompts - Nie Huaisang/Jiang Cheng. Featuring: The seduction of Jiang Cheng by Nee Huaisang, the obscurest of weird courting practices unique to both sects, and Wei Wuixiang being rendered temporarily speechless.

Jiang Sect

“So, we’re on a boat,” Nie Huaisang said.

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said. “A boat ride is a traditional part of the engagement process for the Jiang sect.”

“I get that,” Nie Huaisang said. “Do we need to do anything on the boat?”

Jiang Cheng scowled at him. It was his ‘confusion’ scowl, though, so Nie Huaisang didn’t take it personally. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Nie Huaisang said. “Do we need to – do anything? Anything in specific? Anything at all?”

Jiang Cheng was still scowling.

“Perhaps assume a particular position –”

“Nie Huaisang!”

“As part of my courtship of you –”

“You’re courting me, now?” Nie Huaisang asked, smiling behind his fan. “Really? And here I was, thinking I was doing all the work.”

“Will you shut up and let me finish this.”

Nie Huaisang waved a hand permissively.

“As part of – as part of the courtship process – I present to you a lotus flower, which I have grown myself. It is a symbol that I have considered our relationship at length, tending to it over time, letting it bud and grow as a natural –”

“It’s dead.”

“I know it’s dead. That’s not the point.”

“Our relationship metaphor is dead and that’s not the point?”

“It’s not a metaphor for our relationship.”

“What was that about budding and growing and –”

“Shut up. The words are traditional. I stick a seed in the ground, wait the appropriate number of days, and give it to you – I did all that.”

Nie Huaisang poked the plant with his fan. “Did you water it?”

“It lives in a pond.”

“Jiang Cheng. Did you water it?”

“Listen, I’ve been busy –”

“A grand gesture,” Nie Huaisang said. “I think I’m scared.”

Jiang Cheng, by now somewhat inured to him, rolled his eyes.

“No, really,” Nie Huaisang persisted. “I’m scared. Terrified. Deeply worried. From the way you’ve described it, you have to make a grand gesture of your affection to, what, show off your spontaneous, adventurous spirit?”

“Basically.”

“You don’t have one. No, don’t give me that look, you don’t. You’re excellent in many ways, I wouldn’t be agreeing to marry you if I didn’t think so, but spontaneity gives you anxiety and anxiety gives you hives and makes you hit things. This seems like a bad idea.”

“It’s fine,” Jiang Cheng said. “I told Wei Wuxian to come up with something.”

“Jiang Cheng,” Nie Huaisang said. “You needed to come up with a great, big, explosive, stupid way to demonstrate affection…and you asked Wei Wuxian?”

“…I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Nie Sect

“Now that we’ve gone on a hunt together –”

“Did that count?” Jiang Cheng asked. “I’m pretty sure we mostly just went walking through a forest. And then we went to a town to eat at a restaurant.”

“Now that we’ve obtained sustenance together –”

“You mean buying skewers from the street stall earlier? Or putting in our order at this restaurant?”

“Jiang Cheng.”

“What?”

“I’m trying to fulfil the rules of my sect here.”

Jiang Cheng crossed his arms and smothered a smirk. “Really? I’m pretty sure the rule said something about you needing to prepare food for me from something you personally tracked down.”

“So what? I tracked down a perfectly nice restaurant.”

“You didn’t prepare the food.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s hot pot. I’m doing plenty of preparation.”

“Your sect are butchers,” Jiang Cheng said smugly. This was totally making up for the fiasco Wei Wuxian had put together. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to catch something and chop it up for me.”

Nie Huaisang glared at him. “Fine. You want me to personally kill something for you?”

His hand shot out, fan snapping down on the surface of the table.

“You’re welcome.”

Jiang Cheng looked down.

“Somehow,” he said, his voice strangled as he tried to figure out if he was angry or about to start laughing. “I don’t think flies are what your ancestors had in mind.”

“I don’t think this is necessary,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Of course it is,” Nie Huaisang said. “It’s in the rules.”

“Yes, but. You know. Under the circumstances, maybe we could – skip it?”

“We didn’t skip any of the other steps,” Nie Huaisang pointed out. “This’ll be fine.”

“Nie Huaisang.”

“What?”

“You know I respect you very much and consider you to be very fearsome, especially after what happened with Jin Guangyao. So I don’t want you to take offense or think I’m putting you down in any way. But…”

“But what?”

“You don’t have any martial abilities with the saber to show off.”

Nie Huaisang lifted his saber and immediately staggered a few steps from the unfamiliar weight. “No,” he said. “I don’t. But the rule is ‘display your martial abilities’, not ‘display good martial abilities’. You just have to watch me go through a few routines.”

“You’re going to cut off your own feet,” Jiang Cheng gloomily predicted. “Do I have to watch?”

“Yes. It’s mandatory. Don’t worry, it may have been ten years, but I still remember the basics.”

“Do you?”

“Of course! Sharp part goes in the other person.”

Jiang Cheng covered his eyes and whimpered.

“Why did that happen,” Jiang Cheng said. It wasn’t a question. “Why. Why did I have to endure that.”

“Nie sect tradition,” Nie Huaisang said apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Did they think we – that we didn’t know – we’re both fully grown adults.”

“My sect is known for having people who lose control of their tempers very easily,” Nie Huaisang said. “It’s traditional to teach incoming brides – yes, I know, we never agreed who was marrying in, but put that aside for the time being – to teach prospective new spouses about how to handle that.”

“In bed.”

“Yes. In bed. Outside of bed, the recommended approach is ‘flee if they’ve got a sword’ or ‘kick really hard until they stop moving’.”

“Don’t make me laugh, I’m still processing the horror that I was just subjected to. There were pictures, Huaisang. Charts. Why were there charts?”

“Some of those pictures were pretty nice, actually,” Nie Huaisang mused. “I should get copies to add to my lending library.”

“I feel like using traditional secret Nie sect bride teachings in your porn distribution network is wrong.”

“You make it sound so tawdry. It wasn’t even anything that extreme! Just a few helpful tips with rope. And chains. And various other objects –”

“We’re never talking about this ever again.”

“The worst part is, I’m pretty sure the ancestor that instituted this rule was making a joke,” Nie Huaisang said. “And his heir continued it entirely out of spite, with every subsequent sect leader adding their own additional ridiculousness in order to make the next generation suffer as they were forced to suffer. That’s why there’s quite so much, uh…”

“Innovation?”

“Good word.”

“Well, it was that or ‘horrifying perversities’, and the latter seemed a little judgmental.”

Extra: Meishan Yu

“No. Nope. No way. This has gone too far!”

“What are you whining about?” Jiang Cheng asked, hands across his chest and scowl on his face. “It’s just another stupid ritual. We’ve done a dozen or more by now. What’s the matter with this one?”

“I can accept greeting the dawn as it breaks over the mountains,” Nie Huaisang said through gritted teeth. “Uncomfortable as that might be. I can even accept having to spend the night before in your mother’s clan’s miserable little love nest –”

“It’s a perfectly nice structure. The fact that it’s built into a cave doesn’t make it miserable, and it’s not a love nest.”

“It’s where newlyweds spend a night together; it’s a love nest.”

“Fine. What’s the problem, then?”

“The problem? The problem?! The problem is that nowhere in that description –” Nie Huaisang jabbed at Jiang Cheng with his fan; Jiang Cheng dodged. That fan could be pretty pointy. “Nowhere in that description does it say anything, anything at all, about having to deal with a giant nest of spiders!”

“It’s not that many spiders, only a few dozen –”

“No!”

“You only have to leave them a little bit of food –”

“I am not feeding any spiders anything!”

“It’s good luck!”

“The answer is still no!”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #my fic #my fics #hamelin-born #wtf happened with the read-more?

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kingandfireheart · 4 years ago

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What stories are left in ACOTAR: Elain edition

It is likely that the next installment of the ACOTAR series will cover Elain Archeron. Elain is probably the least developed character of the Inner Circle, and the only character (other than Amren and Lucien) whose perspective we haven’t seen yet. This post details her trauma, the issue of choice, Elain’s personality, the sweet innocent Elain image, and her various roles.

Elain will definitely have to face her past trauma, which include:

Graysen: grief, feeling of betrayal

The Cauldron and being kidnapped: trauma, feeling violated, becoming high fae

Her father: grief

Sisters: having a role in the Night Court, belonging there, being protected

Choices:

Before I get into Elain’s role, I want to talk about a huge thing for Elain, which is choice. Rhysand spends ACOMAF and ACOWAR showing Feyre that she always has choices. Nesta struggles with this in ACOSF, and while Nesta does make choices to be more active - she kills the Kelpie, saves Feyre, saves her friends, she choses Cassian, and kills Briallyn.

“I am not a thing to be controlled by you”, Nesta said icily. Everything in her life, from the moment she was born, had been controlled by other people. Things happened to her; anytime she tried to exert control, she’d been thwarted at every turn -- and she hated that even more than the King of Hybern.

Elain, who has suffered much of the same trauma as Nesta, will make her own choices in her book. Those choices will involve who she ends up with (I refuse to get into the Elucien/Elriel debacle here - I like both!), how she wields her power (as a seer, as high fae, as a Made person, as the Cauldron’s favorite, as a political pawn), and what she makes of the situations that happened to her.

Elain has already shown that she can make good on a bad situation in ACOWAR, I’m excited to see how she keeps that up in her book:

“This could end very badly, Elain.” // She brushed her thumb over the iron-and-diamond engagement ring. “It’s already ended badly. Now it’s just a matter of deciding how we meet the consequences.” (ACOWAR)

“I know your circumstances for coming here were awful, Nesta, but it doesn’t mean you need to be so miserable about it.” (ACOSF)

Sweet Innocent Elain:

Elain’s persona in the Inner Circle is a sweet and innocent girl. She loves gardening and cooking. She is kind and cares about things like manners and propriety. Here are a few quotes that show that:

Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind. She had been always so full of light. (ACOWAR)

“You’re still lovely,” Mor said a bit gently. Elain offered a half smile. “I suppose that war makes wanting things like that unimportant.”Mor was quiet for a heartbeat. “Perhaps. But you should not let war steal it from you regardless.” (ACOWAR)

“What now?” Elain mused, at last answering my question from moments ago as her attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this … I think the world needs more gardens.” (ACOWAR)

“I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she’d disappoint you all.” “With time and safety, perhaps we’ll see a different side of her emerge.”(ACOSF Bonus Chapter)

We know that there is a lot more to Elain than anyone gives her credit for - Cassian, Amren, Rhys, and even Nesta point this out on different occasions in ACOSF:

Cassian: “Nesta was wrong to think Elain as loyal and loving as a dog. Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why.”

Amren: “Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don’t underestimate her.”

Rhys: “I also think we haven’t seen all she has to offer. “Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hands dirty along the way” “And torn up by thorns”

Nesta: “Elain stiffened, but refused to balk from whatever she beheld in Nesta’s gaze. “You think I’m to blame for his death? Challenge laced each word. Challenge - from Elain of all people.

We also see Elain starting to take back her power in ACOSF when she steps up to look for the Dread Trove

“You do not decide what I can and cannot do, Nesta.”

“You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“I am not a child to be fought over”

“I went into the Cauldron too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of it what my trauma did to you.”

Elain’s Roles:

Sister: Elain has long been a mediator between Nesta and Feyre. She is the calmness that complements each of their fire, she is the one they each seek to protect. (I’m thinking of SJM’s fire/ice/stone metaphor for Manon, Asterin, and Sorrel). However, she is able to fight for what she wants with each of them, and use her skills to her advantage. Elain shows Feyre her remorse for the years when they are poor, which is why Elain and Nesta step up to help with the Mortal Queens.

“Feyre gave and gave—for years. Let us now help her. Help … others.” (ACOMAF)

“And as for Feyre’s hunting during those years, it was not Nesta’s neglect alone that is to blame. We were scared, and had received no training, and everything had been taken, and we failed her. Both of us.” (ACOMAF)

Sweet, innocent Elain who vomited from the violence on the battlefields, who recoiled from Cassian’s weapons, does show that she is willing to fight for her sisters.

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

Seer: Elain seemed to gain clarity once she realized what she was seeing. She says she can control her Seer talk, and actually uses this power to help Feyre find the Suriel in ACOWAR, and offers to do the same with the Dread Trove. It isn’t clear if Elain’s refusal to acknowledge her powers stems from fear, lack of acceptance, or just the fact that she needed to be normal before she can embrace her new life.

“Are you asking me that as her sister, or as a seer?” (ACOFAS)

“Then I will find it. I might require some time to ... reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.” (ACOSF)

Made and Cauldron’s Favorite: Just like Nesta and Feyre, Elain is Made. All of the Like Calls to Like logic that applies to Feyre in ACOMAF with the Cauldron and the Book of Breathings and Nesta in ACOSF with the Dread Trove applies to Elain. Now that Nesta’s power is limited, Elain may have to step up and use her power to help find the fourth Dread Trove item or with a new Cauldron-related task. The big distinguishing factor here is that the Cauldron likes Elain.

The Cauldron purred in Elain’s presence as the King of Hybern slumped to his knees, clawing at the knife jutting through his throat. Elain backed away a step.

The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain … Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something … It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken.

“You were Made by the Cauldron. You may track other objects Made by it as well... and because you are Made by it, you are immune to the influence and power of the Trove. You might use them, yes, but they cannot be used upon you.”

Lucien’s Mate: Elain hasn’t been raised with the mating bond, she doesn’t care for it in ACOWAR when she tries to win Graysen back, but it is possible that after almost two years in the Night Court, and watching both of her sisters accept their bonds, that she may want to acknowledge it, or at least understand it. Being Lucien’s Mate also makes Elain a political pawn. Her presence in the Night Court ensures Lucien’s loyalty, and given that Lucient has ties to 3 of the seven courts and the human lands. Elain could potentially wield the power of those alliances (or destroy them based on her relationship with Lucien).

“You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?”// “It means nothing,” Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—”// “You belong to him.”//“I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”(ACOWAR)

“You couldn’t say a single word to him? A pleasant greeting?//“He brought you a present”// “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”// “No. He is a good male. He cares for you.”// “He doesn’t know me.” //“You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.”//“I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male” (ACOFAS)

Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.

Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

Member of the Inner Circle: Elain insists that she is a member of the Night Court in ACOSF, and offers her help in tracking down the Dread Trove. . She is already an active member at Inner Circle dinners (seen in ACOFAS and ACOSF), and those bonds could continue to grow.

“And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared she was a part of this court -- and would do whatever was needed. ... He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court... It sucked the life from her.”

Nuala and Cerrdiwen’s Friend: Elain has befriended the two half-wraiths who spy for both Azriel and Rhys. Give Elain’s powers for persuasion (”my sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles”) and observation (”Nesta never spoke if afterward, I just observed”// “Elain’s brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that.” ), she could make an interesting spy or courtier.

“They’d spent more time with Elain than even I had. They understood her moods, what she sometimes needed.” (ACOFAS)

Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends. (ACOSF)

#elain archeron #acotar #elain #elain archeron week #kp analysis #acotar series #mtp

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rowanwhitethornisbae · 4 years ago

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Faking It Ch 2

A/N: Thanks for all the love on chapter one! I’m defiantly going to make this at least ten chapters so buckle up haha. TW: Language

Aelin couldn't remember when she’d lost count of the number of shots she’d taken. All she knew was that the alcohol coursing through her veins offered temporary relief from the breathtaking pain. The pain that had her sobbing so hard that she vomited her guts up each and every night. These pointless high school parties were her only escape from reality. Her parents were dead. Who gave a fuck about anything. Stumbling a little, Aelin made her way over the kitchen sink, prepared to vomit if need be.

“Are you okay?” A low voice asked from behind her.

“Fine.” She muttered and leaned against the counter for some semblance of balance.

“You don't look it.” The stranger said kindly.

“Well isn't there some saying; Don’t judge a cover by its book or whatever.”

The mystery man laughed and Aelin finally lifted her head to look at him. He was handsome. So much so that if she hadn't already been leaning on something she might have swooned. His eyes were green, the colour of a pine tree in the dead of winter. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled and a tattoo crawled down the length of his arm and decorated the edge of his collarbone.

I like men with tattoos. She thought.

“Thanks.” He said, laughing awkwardly under his breath.

Oh shit. She avoided meeting his eye, instead landing her gaze upon his silver hair.

“Do you dye your hair.” She asked casually.

He seemed slightly taken aback, but smiled all the same. “No. Do you?”

She gasped as if it was the most preposterous thing he could've said and ran a hand through her long blond hair.

“I’d sooner eat snakes.” Aelin grinned.

“People all over the world do that voluntarily.” The green eyed man mused.

An image of someone eating snake popped into her head and Aelin suddenly felt bile rise in her throat. Before she could vomit on the perfect stranger, she bolted from the kitchen and into a vacant bathroom. Gagging, she fell onto her knees and was violently ill.

So gently that she barely even noticed, her hair was pulled back from her neck and shoulders as her stranger eased himself onto the cold tile beside her. When Aelin had finished vomiting, she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and slumped against the wall.

“Thanks.” She said, tying her hair into a messy bun with shaking hands.

“I’m Rowan.” He answered, extending a hand.

For the first time in weeks, she felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips.

“Aelin.”

“Miss Galathynius are you even listening.” Her math teacher’s voice snapped her out of that very unwelcome flashback.

“Do you want me to lie to you?” She asked, earning a few laughs from her classmates and an elbow to the ribs from Aedion.

“Take a walk.” He snarled, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief. She needed fresh air anyway.

The hallway was practically empty, save a few students on their way to the bathroom, and Aelin started towards the side doors to the parking lot. She passed a locker that had been decorated for someone’s birthday. Streamers flowed down from the top, framing the collage of photos perfectly. The girl in question looked to be a freshman, with a bright smile on her face and eyes that screamed innocence. The things Aelin would do to go back to freshman year. To live with that lack of knowledge and trauma that she so desired. But she couldn't.

She was rounding the last corner when something made her stop dead on her feet. There, leaning against the wall in a way she’d seen so many times before, was Chaol Westfall. Still, it wasn't the sight of him that send her heart into a flurry. It was the girl fiddling with her hair opposite him. It took Aelin a minute to recognize her. Nesryn Faliq, they had advanced chemistry together. She laughed at something Chaol said and reached out a hand to brush his arm. Shivers ran down Aelin’s spine at that hint of a touch. Chaol smiled back at Nesryn and leaned in to whisper something in her ear.

Unable to watch anymore, Aelin turned on her heels and bolted to the women's bathroom. She was breathing too hard, her heart racing much too fast to be healthy. God this was an awful time to have a panic attack. Slowly, she managed to calm her breathing enough to splash water on her face.

This was bad. Really fucking bad. They’d broken up barely 24 hours ago and Chaol was already flirting with the entire female population of Terrasen High. Fine, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration.

Clearly Lysandra had been right. Aelin slumped down against the wall and curled her knees to her chest. She needed a rebound, and fast. Aelin pondered names as she ran her fingers through the grooves in the bathroom wall. Name after name came forward and she found herself subconsciously shooting them all down.

Nox, Fenrys, Sam, Lorcan, Sartaq. None sounded right.

In fact, the only one she could ever see herself with was Rowan Whitethorn. The silver haired senior who’s heart she’d held in her hands sophomore year. Held and crushed. She deserved every ounce of the hatred he had for her.

Still, he wasn't a bad option. She knew he found her beautiful, he’d told her as much. The only problem was that he would never go for her again. People tended to put up a guard after having their heart shattered.

Flirting with him would be futile and unfair. The only way she could ever get him to date her was if she gave him something in return.

“Holy shit.” Aelin swore, jumping up so fast that she nearly hit her heat on the sink.

If there was anything Aelin knew about Rowan, it was that he wanted to play on the football team. He’d gone on and on about it before. According to him, he had been deathly ill during tryouts and had ended up vomiting off the side after one hit. He’d begged and begged the coach to let him try out again but it was four years later and Rowan still wasn't on the team. Lorcan, Fenrys, Vaughn, and Gavriel all were and Rowan was half miserable because of it.

There it was. A plan. She’d get him a tryout, somehow, and in exchange he would help her beat Chaol in whatever sick game they were playing. With a newfound purpose, Aelin washed her hands and walked back to math class.

Lunch. She’d make her move then.

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

The cafeteria was mostly empty, a normal occurrence for Tuesday afternoons. The lunch provided was some weird crossover of meatloaf and mashed potatoes that had most students eating out. Unfortunately for Rowan, Fenrys had convinced them to eat in the cafeteria today in his attempts to stalk a blonde girl on spare in the lounge.

Now, he was picking at his food as his friends discussed the football game tomorrow. Rowan was just beginning to think his day couldn't get any worse, when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.

“Can I talk to you?” Someone asked from over his shoulder. He knew that voice. Had heard it in both his dreams and his nightmares. Rowan’s grip on his fork tightened and his knuckles went white. His foot began drumming against the floor as he braced himself for impact. Everyone else at the table was rapidly flicking their gaze between Aelin and Rowan.

“No.” He said harshly, not daring to turn around. Rowan didn't think he’d have the will to deny her anything if he was forced to meet her eye.

“Please.” Aelin pleaded. “I have something to say to you.”

“Well that’s too fucking bad because I have nothing to say to you.” He responded, voice carefully exempt of any emotion.

“Then just listen.” She begged. “If you don't like what I have to say than we can go back to ignoring each other like you wanted.”

“I wasn't the one who wanted that.” He snapped before he could take it back.

Rowan felt more than saw Aelin stiffen behind him. Lorcan was drumming his fingers on the table, as if prepared to hold Rowan back if called for.

But it was Fenrys, the friend who was kind to everyone, who spoke. “I think you should go Aelin.”

She swallowed audibly behind him. “Alright.” She relented. “I’ll be at the Starbucks during fourth for spare. Come find me if you want.”

Rowan didn't bother to nod. Instead, he gripped his fork harder, letting up only when the sound of retreating footsteps subsided. He looked up slowly to find all eyes on him.

“So that just happened.” Lorcan mused.

“Yes thank you so much for that observation.” Rowan sniped sarcastically.

“Woah.” Lorcan replied, throwing up his arms in mock surrender. “You’re mad at Galathynius, not us remember.”

“Whatever.” He mumbled and went back to picking at his food. After a few seconds he threw his fork on the table and let out a groan of frustration.

“This food is the worst thing I have ever eaten in my entire life. It is terrible and horrible and fucked up and I have no idea what to do with it.” Rowan half-shouted. Heads swivelled in his direction and he ignored them. Judgement from people he didn't know was the least of his many concerns at the moment.

“Is that supposed to be some sort of metaphor for your life?” Vaughn asked, dead serious.

“Excuse me?”

“Seriously Rowan. All I've heard for the last year and a half is Aelin Galathynius this and Aelin Galathynius that and now she’s finally speaking to you and you’re not going to do anything about it.”

“I don't talk about her that much.” Rowan mumbled under his breath. Lorcan shot him a look as if to say “Yes. Yes you do.”

“I know I'm normally not one to get involved in deep shit, but Vaughn’s right. I’ve never seen you nearly as happy as you were for those few months in tenth. And honestly, what’s the worst that can happen. You hear what she has to say. You like it, great. You don't, fuck it and forget about her.” Rowan had never heard Fenrys speak for so long without sarcasm in his life.

“To be fair,” Gavriel said, always the buffer. “We’ve also never seen Rowan as broken as he was after Aelin. Maybe the risk outweighs the reward on this one Fen.”

Rowan didn't reply. He was too busy struggling to get the memory of those painful few weeks from his head.

“Just talk to her man. Who gives two fucks it’s high school.” Despite being mainly in an attempt to end this conversation, Lorcan’s words made sense. It was just high school. In one more year he’d be out of this shit hole and hopefully across the world in Rithfold. Talking to Aelin was just one step along the way.

“I’m going to.” He said, willing his tone to stay confident.

“Great man.” Fen said, patting him on the back. He barely felt it though. Barely felt anything as the rest of the day passed by in a blur, his thoughts occupied by a beautiful blond haired girl.

---------

It had been twenty minutes and Aelin was starting to think Rowan wasn't coming. In all honestly she should've expected that outcome from the beginning. Even though she understood, the way he had acted towards her at lunch had hurt more than she was willing to let on.

Instead of wallowing in her own self pity, Aelin took a long sip from her coffee. It seared her tongue and burned her throat, the pain helping to ground her in a way nothing else ever could. She was picking at her fingernails, head down, when he arrived.

A metal chair scraped against the cobblestone, a bird sung from a oak tree, a paper bag rustled in the wind, Aelin Galathynius blinked. That’s all she had time to do. One blink to compose herself before she was looking dead into the eyes of Rowan Whitethorn.

She allowed herself a brief second to take him in up close. His high and defined cheekbones, perfectly crafted nose, striking green eyes, and silver hair had always made for a truly stunning combination. He looked the same as ever. Except he didn't. His eyes no longer possessed that unbridled joy and love that she’d seen whenever he looked at her. Instead he just looked done. Done with life and done with her.

Aelin swallowed audibly and handed him a coffee. “Cream and sugar.” She smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

Rowan’s hands tightened slightly. “You remembered.” It wasn't a question. After a brief moment of hesitation he accepted the coffee and went back to staring at the table.

“What is this about Aelin?” He asked softly. Although his voice was gentle, his tone was hurt in a way anyone else would’ve missed. She hated that. Hated that now, even a year later she was still somehow hurting him.

“So you know I broke up with Chaol. Or, he broke up with me.” She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. Rowan nodded once, nearly imperceptibly, and she took that as a sign to continue. “Anyway, Lysandra says that I need a rebound and I need one first because Chaol is the one who broke up with me.”

Rowan’s eye flared with surprise and something else she couldn't place. “I won't be your rebound. Please don't disrespect me by asking.”

Her heart nearly cracked open at the pain lingering in his words. “No no I would never.” Aelin paused for a brief moment to regain her bearings. “Here’s the thing. I don't want a rebound. I’ve been in a relationship for as long as I can remember and I'm in desperate need of a break. But, I’m also the most competitive person you'll ever meet. Like seriously it’s an issue, once -”

“I know.” Rowan interrupted. “Once you sprained your ankle 8 km into a 10 k run and still finished first because you couldn't stand the thought of losing. You told me already.”

Aelin just stared at him for a second, her chest unbearably tight. Rowan’s eyes looked her up and down and she could've sworn his eyes flashed in satisfaction at the pain written on her face.

Not wanting to look at him anymore, she went on. “I figured maybe instead of me actually doing the whole dating thing, we could fake date.”

She held out a hand as Rowan opened his mouth to protest. Begrudgingly, he restrained from commenting and gestured for her to go on.

“That way I'd beat Chaol in whatever this is, I wouldn't have to answer everyone’s condolences on my being dumped, and I’d be saved from the whole post breakup dating fiasco.”

Rowan’s voice was hoarser than before when he finally spoke. “What do I get out of this.”

She took a deep breath in. “I’ll get you a football tryout.”

His knee slammed into the table and Aelin couldn't help but flinch. His eyes were wide and lit up with hope. “Seriously? How the hell are you going to do that?”

“I have a plan.” She tried to sound confident despite her growing doubt.

Rowan let out a small laugh. “The last time you said that we ended up in the back of a police cruiser covered in raw eggs and paint.”

Aelin’s face broke into smile and she began to laugh. For a moment she could almost pretend they were back in sophomore year, lying on Rowan’s lawn and watching the stars. Neither of them had known anything about constellations so they’d made things up based on what they looked like. By the end of the night, Aelin’s stomach hurt from laughing. She wondered when the last time she’d been that blissfuly happy was.

Just as suddenly as they had arrived, their smiles and laughs died on their lips. An uncomfortable silence seized the air and Aelin began to play with the hair elastic on her wrist.

After a few more seconds, Rowan cleared his throat. “I’ll do it.” He announced, although it sounded like he was still trying to convince himself.

“Great.” Aelin smiled. “Why don't you come over tomorrow and we can work out logistics.”

“Don’t you live with Aedion?” Rowan asked cautiously.

“Yeah but he’ll be at Ren’s place tomorrow for a project. I checked.”

Rowan nodded slowly and rose from his chair. “Alright.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Rowan standing and Aelin sitting. “I’m going to uh... go.” He said at last, severing the quickly brewing tension.

Without waiting for answer, he turned and fled, leaving Aelin to do nothing but watch. So they were actually doing this now. What’s the worst that could go wrong?

TOG Tag List:

@queen-of-glass

@courtofjurdan

@fictional-horan

@bamchickawowow

@julemmaes

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

@chieflemming

@morganofthewildfire

@http-itsrebecca

@captainswanandclintasha

@booknerdproblems

@sassys-world

@thegoddessofyou

@cityofchelsea16

@loudphantomdragon

@poisonous00

@wesupremeginger

@becarefuloflove

@more-espresso-less-depresso-xx

@tillyrubes10

@perseusannabeth

#rowaelin #rowaelin au #rowaelin angst #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius

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skyriderwednesday · 3 years ago

Text

Hair

There's always an unmanageable phase to growing out your hair, and Havelock has hit it. Fortunately, Sybil is very keen to offer her services.

(The fabled 'Sybil brushes Havelock's hair fic', G rated but a teensy bit spicy for a moment or two, background VetSybVimes, 1835 words)

Also on AO3

Havelock's hair was... becoming a problem. It wasn't unruly as such, and the weather this year was not yet humid enough to affect it - his hair was used to humidity. No, the main issues he was facing could all be attributed to length. His hair had been longer. It had been far longer -- but he had been fourteen when his hair had reached his waist and he had not had the concerns of leading an entire city. Presently, it was just reaching the bottom of his shoulder-blades. He could hardly tie it tight enough, it would come loose after a handful of hours when it never had before. It would fall in his eyes, tangle with his glasses, tangle with itself... Put simply, more needed doing to it. He could not any longer simply comb out the most obvious tangles and tie it flat away, his hair had volume and (metaphorically) a life of its own. He could not remember how he had managed it as a teen. He might have braided it. Sybil had said last night that she liked it long, that it suited him, and given he deeply disliked having it cut... "If you were the one to have to deal with it my dear, you may not be as fond of it," he had replied. That had been in error. Sybil always liked a challenge. She also had always greatly enjoyed his hair.

"Hello darling," she said warmly as she swept into the room. Havelock looked up wearily from his desk. "Good morning Sybil," he said, pushing loose hair out of his face. Sybil advanced across the office, conventions of politics and rules of tyranny meaning nothing against the tide of determination she exerted. Havelock let it overtake him, not having slept well enough to summon an effectual barricade of stubbornness. Sybil represented the theoretical unstoppable force by default, and presently he felt like a perfectly moveable object. "I see I've arrived in good time..." she said, reaching immediately for his hair. He lamely leaned away from her, knowing full well there was no point to doing so. "It would appear so." Havelock pulled a face as Sybil kissed his temple. "Oh, you are miserable dear," she said, touching his hair again. I wonder why that could be? He did not say out loud. Silently he moved his inkwell to where it was not liable to be knocked over. "Darling," Sybil said firmly. He had long noted that Sybil appeared to be able to read his mind at times. He turned his eyes heavily towards her. "Yes?" "I can come back if I've interrupted you," she said calmly. "No," he shook his head, and loose hair tickled his nose. "We had best have it sorted." "Right," she patted his shoulder, causing him to fail in an endeavour not to sneeze. Rather loudly. "Bless you, dear." "...thank you," he said, blinking. Sybil moved back a little, studying him. "Darling, you look as if your brain just fell out of your ears." "It feels that way," he replied, still a little dazed. "Well, stuff it back in and we'll get to your hair. I'm sure you haven't got all day." Havelock made a mildly disgusted noise. Sybil laughed. "Come on, dear." She walked around the front of the desk towards the fireplace. Havelock stayed where he was and shut his eyes. He wasn't having the best of mornings. He hadn't slept well, his back hurt, his leg was stiff… he had gotten nowhere with the backlog of yesterday, and now Sybil had decided they were going to do his hair. There was a noise. He looked over. She was moving the coffee table. "Sybil…" "I'll put it back when we're finished dear," she said, dusting off her hands – though if there had been any dust on the coffee table, he would have had to have a stern word with the servants. He watched her sit on one of the sofas with her legs out in front of her and open her handbag. She started to take things out of it. Multiple combs, a hairbrush, hair ties, pins… To think he ordinarily managed with a single comb, a piece of ribbon, and his fingers. "Darling," Sybil said warningly.

Havelock tried not to sigh as he got to his feet and laboured across the room. Sybil took his arm gently and guided him to sit against her legs. He put his head back into her lap and folded his hands onto his lower chest. She gathered his hair out from under him and smiled fondly. "Now this is an angle I haven't seen you from in a long time," she said. "You haven't needed to," he replied softly. "It used to be every week when I was home," she mused, picking at the ribbon that had been vaguely holding back his hair. "Glasses, dear." He took them off and relaxed into the process. That's right… Sybil had managed his hair when it had reached his waist. She must have tried to teach him, but he had a strong sense that he had usually been half asleep the moment she picked up the hairbrush. He tuned back in to her muttering to herself. "Gods, Havelock, what kind of pig's ear–-" Sybil made a triumphant noise as she managed to untie the ribbon with the aid of a sturdy pin. "I apologise for that," he said. "No worries dear," Sybil dropped the twisted ribbon onto his hands. Flattening it was now his project for the next ten minutes. "No, I haven't needed to," she said, resuming the previous train of thought as she weighed a wide comb versus the hairbrush. "You would have thought that someone would have taught you to properly care for your hair at some point, but…" "It's not a skill they teach to boys," he said, echoing a similar conversation that had been held between them long ago. "No," Sybil said, choosing the comb and beginning to detangle from the ends up towards his roots. "They should though," he replied, holding the ribbon close to his eyes as he worked to smooth it. "Exactly," Sybil said. "And then you went away for so long and when you came back you had cut it. I half-thought I'd never forgive you for that." "I couldn't manage it," he said, tilting his head back, "and the image was important." "Oh the image," Havelock could hear her rolling her eyes. "Everything was about the image. Is that why you stopped seeing me?" He sat up and turned around to her, the ribbon forgotten about. "Of course not. Our paths had diverged, and there was so much mess to clean up, and–-" Sybil's fingers brushed around his jaw and under his chin, gently closing his mouth. "Hush, darling, I didn't mean it." She turned him round and lay him back against her knees. She stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. "I understand. At the time, I was alone in a big house and angry, and I thought I hated you… but I'm glad to have you again now." He sighed deeply. "I am too…" "I love you darling," Sybil said, "I've always loved you. Now, I think I should finish your hair before one of us starts crying." "'One of us'?" he said. "Come now, we both know it would be me." Sybil snorted, "Havelock!" "I can cry if I want to," he said mock sulkily, "it's my office." "Well don't start now, I need that ribbon straightened out." He retrieved it from the carpet, "Yes ma'am." "Don't start that either." He smiled at her innocently. "I don't know what you mean." "Behave," she said, gently hitting him with the brush, "or I might pull your hair." She meant it. Yes ma'am, he resisted saying aloud for a second time. The first stroke of the brush tugged his hair anyway. He glanced back at her. "Sorry, dear."

He melted into the sensation of subsequent strokes, silently revelling in the odd scrape of the bristles against his scalp. The task of smoothing the ribbon continued autonomously, and his breathing deepened in content. Then the brushing stopped. Sybil's fingers entered his hair. He hummed in query. She shushed him. Then she began to massage his scalp, down into his neck, relieving tension he hadn't known his muscles had been holding. He moaned in quiet bliss. Sybil hummed. Her warmth increased as she leant over and pressed her lips to the top of his head. "Don't you think we should do this more often?" she whispered. Havelock had to remember how to speak. "Yes…" he breathed, "I do." "Good," Sybil kissed his head again, "though not in your office." She withdrew, leaving him with a pang of loss. She was right. As uncomplicated as their arrangement felt from the inside, it could result in unfathomable complications if walked in upon. After all, onlookers would see the leader of the city and a married woman. There would be scandal, words such as 'taking advantage' would be used…

"Have you finished with that ribbon, dear?" she asked. Havelock looked down at it in his hands. He had forgotten he was holding it. "Ah… it appears to have become crumpled again." Sybil looked down over him. "Well, it's better than it was," she said, faintly amused. "I won't need it for a few more minutes anyway." He nodded, and Sybil brushed out the tangles her fingers had caused. She sectioned his hair, gently straightening his head before beginning to braid it intricately from his crown to the top of his neck. It was tight, sturdy, but not uncomfortable. He felt pins and ties weaved into it. It was a style that locked his hair in place, and would keep it there until she could do it again or until he decided to take it down. Most likely the former. "Ribbon please, dear," Sybil said and he dutifully passed it up to her to tie the last loose portions of his hair at the base of his neck.

She sat back to admire her handiwork, "Beautiful, darling, even if I am saying so myself." He hummed warmly. "Thank you so very much." "You're always welcome," Sybil said and kissed the top of his head a last time. "Now..." she looked at him analytically, "we do now have to get you up from down there." "Ah," he said. "I had… neglected to think of that." "So had I… It makes it harder that you're sitting on my feet." He half shook his head and enjoyed that his hair wouldn't make him sneeze this time. "It would be harder if I were between them." "Could you turn around?" "That would involve crawling and may appear compromising." Sybil hummed in deep thought. "I should have allowed you to do this last night," he said. She shook her head, "Sam would have laughed at us for twenty minutes before helping." "Yes, he would..." "...under your arms?" Sybil suggested.

#discworld #discworld fic #havelock vetinari #sybil ramkin #there's a reason they're HER boys you know #this is my only attempt at cross-posting and my hopes are LOW lmao

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felidaefighter · 3 years ago

Text

Our Metaphorical Get-Along Sweater

In which Wilbur thinks of Ranboo as an arch-nemesis while Ranboo is just There Vibing and also, Phil has adopted Ranboo, making for two very different siblings and a very interesting relationship

[Fluff, comedy, fix-it fic, some light angst that is immediately softened, work in progress; every chapter will swap POV]

Chapter Two: A Second Chance From The Second Son

For Ranboo, coming home empty-handed was always the worst part about his trips, second only to not seeing Michael for a while. So, before even stopping at home to unload, the moment he got back to familiar lands he headed to Snowchester, spending the entire afternoon with his son and only heading back to his own house as the sun was beginning to set. In truth, he had been grateful for the accidental timing regarding his trip. It allowed him time to think. Although he and Phil had discussed Wilbur before, he hadn’t been alive during that, and Ranboo honestly felt a prick of guilt at how he knew that might’ve changed things-- he highly doubted Phil would’ve adopted him had Wilbur still been alive, after all.

It definitely didn’t help, either, the way Tommy had spoken about Wilbur-- though Ranboo had known Ghostbur, and knew that in some ways they were likely similar, they weren’t the same-- it made him wary of Wilbur; not just for himself, but for Tommy and Tubbo’s sake as well. Still, he believed in second chances, and a second chance at life was something pretty rare. He wanted to be optimistic. And although Phil was going to be biased, because Wilbur was his son-- his son that he had raised from birth, especially-- Ranboo trusted Phil’s judgement on people more than nearly anyone else save for his husband. He wanted to get to know the man. Not the man he used to be, not the man he was, but the man he is now.

After putting away the small amount of trinkets and excess materials Ranboo had picked up on his adventure, he checked his memory book to see if it had anything to offer in terms of what his next step was. Oh, right! He’d wanted to give Wilbur a proper tour of what had changed; Tommy had succeeded in showing him around, after all, but if Ranboo knew Tommy (and he did, very well), there was no way Tommy had actually given a good explanation of the events behind the changes to the man. Now he just had to offer. He just… had to do it. Yeah. Noting that the sun had only just set, it was reasonable to assume that Wilbur and Phil were still awake. Very very awkwardly for someone who had every right to be there given his adoption, Ranboo knocked on the door to Phil’s house.

Phil let him in with an easy smile. “Ranboo, mate, you don’t have to knock y’know.” It kind of felt strange not to though? Considering the recent change in situation. “Yeah, but with Wilbur here, I don’t wanna interrupt anything, y’know?” He asked Phil with an awkward laugh. “You’re just as much part of the family as he is,” Phil assured, and Ranboo felt himself untense a little. “Welcome back from your adventure, by the way! Were you successful?” Phil asked, realizing he hadn’t yet. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” Ranboo moaned miserably, and Phil laughed. “Not well then! Got it.” Ranboo shook his head. “Everything else I can find no problem! Like, come on, man, this one isn’t even for me.” The two stood in a pleasant moment together.

Right. The reason he was here. He had to get it over with one way or the other. “Hey Phil, I was wondering actually, is Wilbur around…?” He asked before he could convince himself not to. Phil looked at him quizzically. “Yeah, he’s upstairs. Wil!” Phil called, and Wilbur immediately stuck his torso out the ladder hole, looking like he very much would rather be elsewheres. “Ranboo wanted to speak to you,” Phil explained, and Wilbur disappeared for a moment before climbing down the ladder properly. “Okay, I’m here, I see you. What’s up?” Wilbur asked, and although he looked like he’d been interrupted genuine curiosity colored his words. Admittedly, it was a little intimidating to have Wilbur’s attention. Ranboo had just… heard so much about him.

“Oh, well uh… you got a tour of what had changed from Tommy, right?” He started. Wilbur tilted his head. “Yeah, you could call it that.” Ranboo nodded; he’d expected something like that. “Well, I was wondering-- if you’re free tomorrow, would you like a proper tour? I know Tommy is horrible at being straightforward and explaining things like that, so it might be nice to have an actual explanation right?” Ranboo asked. There it was, the big, awkward sibling bonding question. Huoagh. Ranboo turned to Phil. “No offense, Phil, but you and Techno don’t really…” Ranboo trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish his sentence. Phil shook his head. “None taken, you’re right. Aw that sounds nice eh Wil? It’d be good to get you all caught up.” Wilbur looked a bit taken aback, but not unpleasantly so. That was good! That seemed like a good thing.

“You know what? Sure, Ranboo. I’m down to try that.” Ranboo grinned in excitement. “Awesome! Okay, tomorrow, I’ll give you the grand tour.” Wilbur nodded, continuing. “I’ll admit Tommy left some holes in his stories-- almost as big as the one I apparently left in L’Manberg,” Wilbur added with dark chuckle. Ooohhh okay that didn’t seem like the greatest sign but dark humor wasn’t necessarily indicative of anything bad-- though it did, admittedly, make Ranboo feel a little wary. Caution would probably be best when handling everything. But that was okay! Ranboo was a cautious guy. He felt confident in his ability to, well, be cautious. “Yeahhh that’ll happen with Tommy,” Phil said to Wilbur in agreement, and Ranboo nodded in turn. The three chatted idly for a short bit, and then Ranboo left for the night, ready to sleep in his own bed after a week of travel, with the plans for tomorrow secured.

------

Ranboo woke up and did his morning routine, bracing himself for the plans he’d made for the day. In truth, he wasn’t really sure what to make of Wilbur still. He’d had an entire week to think about it, but it just seemed so complicated. He’d heard good things from Phil and terrible things from Tommy, about the man who had created a nation and also was now his older brother. It would be good to get to know him, though, Ranboo reasoned-- so the tour was a good idea. Ranboo found Wilbur tinkering with some things in Phil’s house, having very clearly been awake for quite some time. “You’ve been up a while,” Ranboo said, and Wilbur looked about to scowl at the intrusion before settling himself into a more neutral expression and nodding. “The sunrise; It’s beautiful,” he explained-- and suddenly Ranboo felt as if Wilbur might be okay after all. They headed off in relative silence aside from a passing remark from Wilbur about the magma cubes that consistently jumped to their deaths; the only thing of note about the nether was the vaguely safer renovation of the community portal.

“The community house looks different,” Wilbur commented, and Ranboo grimaced. “Oohhh yeah. It got blown up. Dream--” At least, as far as anyone knew it was Dream-- “Blew it up and framed Tommy for it while he was in exile. He used it as an excuse to blow up L’Manberg. With uh, Phil and Techno’s help actually, but y’know.” An unreadable expression crossed over Wilbur’s face, and he nodded. “Dream’s a tricky bastard, that doesn’t surprise me. I do remember Tommy’s exile, now, by the way, it--” Rage flashed across Wilbur’s face, almost too quickly for Ranboo to take note, but not quite quick enough-- before he took a breath and looked calm again. “It was rough,” He surmised instead. Ranboo nodded. That had been a horrible time. He’d tried writing letters, but, well. Ranboo decided to focus on the tour before the queasy feeling in his gut grew too big.

“Over therrrre is Kinoko Kingdom or whatever it’s called-- Sapnap and Karl live there I think? Also George maybe but that guy is always asleep so honestly who knows,” Ranboo said, gesturing to their right/the East. Wilbur looked like he was calculating something. “So there are new nations here after all?” Ranboo shrugged. “I mean I wouldn’t really call it a nation-- I don’t think there’s a government so much as a lot of buildings that nobody even lives in honestly.” Wilbur just frowned at that, despite it being true. Ranboo was beginning to think that maybe it’d be a lot harder to get on his good side than he’d initially hoped.

Ranboo walked out the other side of the community house and Wilbur trailed behind idly, long-legged stride making up for his casual pace. His dark eyes flitted about, searching for things the passage of time had and hadn’t touched. “The prime path is pretty much the same,” Ranboo said, desperately hoping the shift away from nation-talk would lighten Wilbur’s mood. “Oh! On the right there is Captain Puffy’s therapy office. I’ve heard about it from--” Actually, that was none of Wilbur’s business, no offense to him. “--From somewhere. That’s why it says ‘therapuffy’ on the sign.” Personally, Ranboo was very pleased with that pun. Puffy had done a good job with it. And Wilbur-- Wilbur actually quirked an eyebrow. “She’s started a therapy office, has she?” He mused, and Ranboo hummed in affirmation. “I s’ppose that’s useful. I’m sure a lot of people around here need it.”

“Apparently there’s a discreet box you can drop a note into to make an appointment,” Ranboo said, which was about as close as he was going to get to saying his real thoughts which were more along the lines of oh my god PLEASE get therapy you of all people need it especially considering you made your dad help you kill yourself and have been dead and gone for years in what you essentially described as hell. “That’s cool,” Wilbur said, and Ranboo nearly wilted a little, but he did take a small victory in the lingering glance that he noticed Wilbur left it towards it. Ranboo allowed himself to hope just a teensy bit that maybe Wilbur would visit again after the tour with nobody else around.

“On the left here is Niki and Puffy’s flowershop and bakery, and Fundy and I’s icecream shop we made to compete with them. Ours is just a little bit taller,” Ranboo added smugly. “They’re both kind of abandoned though, because--” Oh, that was not a good look on Wilbur’s face. It passed almost immediately, which was almost even more concerning. “Go on, Ranboo, what were you saying?” Wilbur prompted softly, and Ranboo hesitated but it was clear he wasn’t going to get anything out of that look. It was also, frankly, not something he was willing to unpack with the older man. “They’re both kind of abandoned, because I haven’t seen Fundy in a long while and I think Niki and Puffy kind of drifted apart? They were dating at one point I think,” He rambled, and relaxed a bit as Wilbur smirked, easily caught up in gossip and drama.

They passed by Church Prime-- Wilbur declining to go in for personal reasons-- Punz’s house, the karaoke stage, and the weird, pale-checked building, which had all been there since long before Ranboo’s time and thus didn’t earn anything more than a passing, melodramatic comment from Wilbur about familiarity and stagnation and how sometimes even the land couldn’t change. Ranboo didn’t really think that was a fair assessment, though. Basalt columns supported chunks of Punz’s house that bore visible fire damage. Nearly every time he’d passed by the checked building the inside had been renovated. He was pretty sure even the karaoke stage had been patched up a few times. But to be honest, being around Wilbur was awkward. Even the idea that he knew things that Wilbur didn’t didn’t seem quite right, since Wilbur had been there first-- with both L’Manberg and being Phil’s son-- even if he’d missed some time. So for now, Ranboo would just stick to the facts.

“That’s a Christmas building,” Wilbur said, aghast, pulling Ranboo out of his thoughts. “Hm? Oh! Yeah, that’s-- I think somebody lives there but I’m not sure actually. It’s definitely--” Ranboo made a noise, and Wilbur nodded his head at the noise. “Yeah. See, that’s something you and I can agree upon, Ranboo.” Wilbur then swivelled his head around and did a double-take. “Is that gay Target? ...Didn’t that used to be a walmart?” They passed the Targay, beginning the steep climb up the mountain, and Ranboo nodded, bemused. “It’s Targay, I think. Puffy renovated the walmart. It’s kinda been ‘opening soon’ since before I even got here though so I think it’s effectively abandoned. Tommy and I were talking about that the other day, actually.”

Speaking of, they reached the top of the mountain and Tommy’s plot of land-- “Tommy’s shit-fucking-shack is the same,” Wilbur said dryly, fake disgust in his voice betrayed by the fondness on his face. And there it was-- proof. Not for anybody other than Ranboo himself, of course, but it was there. Wilbur did care about something. Or someone, at least. Someone that Ranboo cared about, too. That was enough to get Ranboo’s confidence in his plan back up a bit. Good, actually. He liked being optimistic. Preferred it without a doubt to anxiety spirals and the idea that everything was doomed. “Pretty much,” Ranboo admitted, “But there’s a bunch of flowers and stuff around that were planted when-- when he was gone for a bit. He took down everything else. I guess he likes it looking like a hole in the hill.” Wilbur rolled his eyes.

“Do you want to see the hotel and the prison and Snowchester next, or would you like to visit L’Manberg?” Ranboo asked, hoping Wilbur wouldn’t realize the near-slip-up had been alluding to Tommy’s death. The mischievous, conniving look in Wilbur’s eyes clouded, and the man looked thoughtful. Ranboo waited anxiously, fiddling with his hands. “Let’s go visit L’Manberg,” He said, taking the lead, and Ranboo followed behind. The man’s strides were purposeful, and though Ranboo did think that Wilbur could change, something about the way he was moving hinted at… lingering ideologies about the former nation. Also, Ranboo was internally pouting a bit about Wilbur taking charge now. It was meant to be his tour.

“I haven’t seen L’Manberg since I blew it all to kingdom come,” Wilbur remarked, Ranboo trailing nervously behind him. Confusion temporarily overrode his nerves, and Ranoo tilted his head. “Are you su-- really? I thought you said you remembered stuff that happened when you were-- Ghostbur?” Wilbur downright scowled at the mention of Ghostbur, and waved off the mention like he was shooing away a pesky fly. “I don’t see what Ghostbur has to do with that,” Wilbur huffed, and Ranboo was silent for a moment. Maybe-- hm, that would be interesting wouldn’t it? Because Ghostbur couldn’t remember the bad things, and the only example Wilbur had given of remembering Ghostbur’s memories was how awful exile had been for Tommy.

Ranboo was so focused on theorizing and figuring out how he might propose said theory to Wilbur that he nearly careened right into the man, who had stopped dead right at the end of the prime path. Luckily, he saved himself the dignity and Wilbur his dramatic moment right at the last second. If Wilbur noticed, he didn’t comment on it. He was staring out over the massive crater. “Wow,” Wilbur breathed mournfully, “I really did do a number on this place, huh.” He stepped off the prime path, minding the pockets where fire and explosives had scarred the earth. Ranboo watched him walk across the glass-- eerily, like a ghost taking long-forgotten trails, the transparent glass helping the illusion. Except, no, Wilbur was alive, and more importantly--

“You didn’t, actually,” Ranboo said bluntly, and Wilbur snapped out of whatever daze he had been in, the illusion shattered as the contradictory statement made him virulent and very much alive. “What?” Ranboo admittedly reeled a little at the tone, but come on. He didn’t. “You didn’t,” Ranboo reiterated; “Techno, Phil, and Dream were the ones to blow it to bedrock. Your explosion didn’t get anywhere close. And the reason I know that is because it flooded afterwards, but it didn’t even flood that deep. It’s why L’Manberg-- the one I knew at least-- was rebuilt on stilts,” Ranboo explained, carefully watching the expression on Wilbur’s face. The disdain on Wilbur’s face was slowly blotted out by confusion.

“What do you mean rebuilt on stilts?” Wilbur asked, and it was definitely visible on Ranboo’s face when it clicked for him that his theory had been correct. Wilbur didn’t actually remember Ghostbur’s memories-- not all of them, at least. He only thought he did because he, well, couldn’t remember the rest. Ranboo knew the feeling. “And what does that look mean?” Wilbur scoffed. “Well, you--” Ranboo felt his face get hot, the center of attention and eyes being on him never really the best for his enderman instincts. Ranboo opted instead to glance down at the bedrock, visible through the glass. “After-- after you died. L’Manberg was rebuilt. Tubbo said the land was still good, so when it started flooding they built it up on stilts and platforms. It was mainly Ghostbur that did the rebuilding, actually!” With the last fact, Ranboo glanced back up at Wilbur, who was just staring, trying to process what he’d just heard.

“So, you’re saying… I didn’t have a big impact on this place.” Wilbur prompted. Ranboo just sighed. “Well, you did. It just wasn’t all one thing, y’know? I know Tubbo-- I know Tubbo liked having L’Manberg around and so did Tommy. They were devastated when, well--” Ranboo gestured to the visible bedrock deep, deep below them-- “That happened. And Ghostbur rebuilt it, he made it beautiful, with the lanterns.” Ranboo paused. “Phil told me a bit about the lanterns, actually.” Something indiscernible crossed over Wilbur’s face. Then he looked almost bitter-- then-- Wilbur sighed. “See, Ranboo, I appreciate your trying to ‘tell me I’m not a bad guy’ or whatever,” Wilbur said, emphasizing the quotations with a false, mocking tone, and gesturing dramatically, “But it doesn’t really matter. This is my legacy! This crater. Everyone knows I’m a bad person. That’s just fact.”

“...I don’t think you’re a bad person,” Ranboo said quietly, wincing at how unconvincing that must sound even as genuine as he meant it. Wilbur scowled. “Why? Because Phil said?” Ranboo immediately countered, offended that Wilbur thought he couldn’t have his own opinions. “...No, not because Phil said. Because I don’t know you at all. We haven’t gotten a chance to meet. And I think that maybe you were a bad person, if you blew up L’Manberg, but I also think that you were going through some things that affected you and I think that people can change. Even if it’s only been a few years for us, it’s been thirteen years for you. You aren’t going to be the same person as before. And you deserve a second chance. Everyone does.”

Wilbur was the one to turn away this time, and Ranboo politely pretended not to notice the way his eyes had become more reflective and puffy. He seemed like he had something he wanted to say, and Ranboo would’ve let him, really-- but instead he looked out over the glass at the bedrock and rubble and dead vines that hadn’t yet been reclaimed by nature. Wilbur took a deep breath, and Ranboo waited in nervous anticipation. “What do you mean it’s ‘only been a few years for you’, Ranboo?” Wilbur asked. Oh. That had not been-- but he did have a good point. That was probably some important information that Tommy had apparently also left out.

“Tommy… didn’t tell you that either. Figures,” Ranboo muttered. “Okay so, when Tommy came back and said he’d been gone for months, it had only been two days, so…” Ranboo began, and Wilbur held up a hand, signalling him to pause for a moment. “Thank you for the tour, Ranboo,” Wilbur said, “But this has been a lot. Let’s walk and talk on this one, eh?” He sniffed, not in a cry-y way, in his usual talking way, (even if one would think it’d be in a cry-y way-- Ranboo tried to not let his thoughts wander too far, though), and said softly, “I’d like to go home.” It did catch Ranboo a little off-guard. There was still more to the tour! But… well, it did make sense, L’Manberg being what it was. Yeah. That seemed reasonable. “Alright, yeah,” Ranboo said, and the two found their way back to the prime path. “So since Tommy had been gone for two days but lived-- or unlived I guess?-- for months-- we figured time moves differently in the afterlife or whatever it is, right?” Ranboo explained the time differential to Wilbur as they walked, and the man was surprisingly free of snarky commentary the rest of the way home.

-----

They had trudged through the snow in complete silence, leaving Ranboo to his swirling thoughts about how he felt about Wilbur being his brother. He was trying hard to not think about it actually. The mix of the family thoughts and the snow on the ground did remind him that they never went to Snowchester for the tour. Honestly? Ranboo was okay with that. He hated to admit it, but he did not trust Wilbur around Michael. Okay, in all fairness, he didn’t really trust anyone other than Tubbo around Michael. Call it paranoia, or maybe “an awareness of what the rest of the people in the realm were like”. It was hard enough dealing with having a sibling when he’d only just gained a parent-- Ranboo really didn’t need to deal with whatever thoughts might come with Wilbur technically being Michael’s uncle. He shuddered to himself, and Wilbur glanced over questioningly, but Ranboo muttered about the cold and the man seemed to buy it.

Phil was waiting for them when they got home, and opened the door warmly to both of them. He shot Ranboo a questioning look when he didn’t immediately come inside, but Ranboo subtly shook his head-- Phil giving an almost unnoticeable tilt upwards of his head in acknowledgement. Talk later. “Sooo how’d it go?” Phil asked conversationally from the doorway, and Wilbur was startled out of his own thoughts. Luckily he didn’t catch the exchange they’d had. “Huh? Oh.” Wilbur turned to Ranboo thoughtfully. “The tour was lovely, thank you. You definitely did a better job than Tommy, at least. And cleared some things up for me.” Something about Wilbur, Ranboo had noticed, was always guarded. He guessed that’d be the paranoia. Or maybe old habits from being sneaky-- Phil had told some stories of when Wilbur was younger.

“I’m glad,” Ranboo said sheepishly though, “I’m glad I could do that and, clear some things up for you, yeah. And it was nice getting to hear your stories about the things that had been there for a while, too,” Ranboo offered, an open invitation for reconciliation, even if he still wasn’t sure what he’d done that made him and Wilbur get off on such a strange foot. Wherever Wilbur’s thoughts had been drifting to, they quickly snapped back at Ranboo’s softer tone. “Yes,” Wilbur said curtly, “Thank you for the tour, see you around.” And he promptly slipped past Phil, who was muttering baffled protests, into his room upstairs.

“What?” Phil squawked out as the door shut, and then turned to Ranboo. “I don’t-- what-- I’m sorry Ranboo I genuinely don’t know what that was about.” And Ranboo laughed, relieved to have someone else sharing in his confusion, feeling at home with Phil for the first time in a while since it was just the two of them. “I don’t either!” He admitted, sharing in Phil’s trait for giggling in confusion. “But I think I said something that maybe he thought was nice and he doesn’t like the fact that he thought it was nice…?” Phil sighed, and then laughed. “Yeah, yep, that’d do it. Wil’s-- He’ll come around. He’ll come around. He just needs some time to adjust to the situation properly.” Phil narrowed his eyes at Ranboo. Uh-Oh. It was his dad mode.

“And so do you. You can’t let him bully you around just ‘cuz he’s older or you think he gets more rights as my son due to seniority.” Ranboo flushed, feeling very caught-in-the-act. “Okay well hey wait a minute you didn’t have to call me out that hard,” he fake-complained nervously, and the two of them laughed. “I did though! It’s true!” Phil protested. “You’re as much family as he is,” Phil continued softly, and Ranboo desperately tried to not let his eyes water.

Phil, either due to his allergies for prolonged contact with softer emotions, or sensing the need for a mood change out of worry for Ranboo’s allergies to water, decided to change the subject back to Wilbur’s style of siblinghood. “--And Wilbur will bully you around ‘cuz he’s older. And you can’t let him get away with it or he’s gonna get away with it forever,” Phil scolded, “Ranboo, you have to grow a backbone.” Well that just hurt. “I have one, that’s not fair!” Phil, however, put his hands on his hips and looked sternly at Ranboo, who was thoroughly pouting. Then he sighed and laughed softly. “Fair enough, fair enough. That’s a start.”

They stood on the porch together for a moment, enjoying one another’s company. Phil sighed again. “How did the tour actually go? How was Wil?” He asked finally. Right! Now this was something Ranboo was prepared for. He straightened up, much to Phil’s dismay (because Phil was much shorter than Ranboo as it was). Ranboo laughed a little internally at that, but he was rather proud of his observation skills in this matter, so he was all business on the outside (not that this was business). “He was kinda melodramatic, honestly,” Ranboo explained, and Phil nodded; it did make sense that that wasn’t out of the ordinary. “I did point out to him where therapy was,” He added, Phil bursting out laughing in response to that with a sort of ‘bwahahaha’ sound. “Good,” Phil said, before letting Ranboo continue.

“He did… he did get a bit weird when it came to L’Manberg,” Ranboo admitted, and Phil sobered some at that. “He took over the tour and started talking about how it was his fault. Phil, I don’t--” Ranboo leaned down in a conspiratorial whisper, Phil drawing him closer to the door and away from any windows or line of sight. “--I don’t think he actually remembers Ghostbur’s memories. He just thinks he does. He only remembers the bad things from Ghostbur’s memories.” Phil paused. “Ghostbur had bad memories?” His eyes widened. “Oh.”

Ranboo nodded. “Yeah. I did clear up some stuff-- like how the bedrock leveling was you and Techno and Dream and not him, and he’d only been gone for a few years as opposed to thirteen like on his end.” Phil nodded some more, thoughtfully. “Ah, yeah. Thank you for clearing that up, Ranboo, I honestly-- time for me is, well, y’know.” He made a so-so gesture with his hand and Ranboo understood. “I do feel kinda bad about that, but uh-- I still stand by it. It had to be done. That government was corrupt.” Ranboo nodded. He had complicated feelings about that-- he supposed most of his feelings were complicated, actually-- but ultimately he respected Phil’s decision, and liked where he’d ended up because of it.

“And I take it you didn’t show him Snowchester.” Ranboo grimaced. “Yeahhh I didn’t really want to have that conversation. Plus it was in the opposite direction of L’Manberg, so…” Phil nodded once again. “Good thinking. We can chat some more later, yeah? When you’re comfortable doing so in a place that isn’t the freezing cold.” Ranboo nodded, grateful that Phil understood his hesitations even if he didn’t agree with them. Phil patted Ranboo’s arm softly as Ranboo headed off and he went back inside, and Ranboo was grateful for the time alone to think. Because a lot had happened, but he did want to think through that particular scenario, since it was important. Even if the family aspect was strange. Even with Ranboo being particularly protective. And especially with his relationship to Tubbo being what it was. So the question was this: How did Ranboo want to go about introducing Wilbur to his nephew, Michael?

[Until I publish this to AO3, anyone is welcome to ask to be tagged when the fic updates!] @enternalempires

#ranboo #wilbur soot #philza #dreamsmp #mcyt fanfic #they write #oh gosh please don't open this readmore on mobile. new tab is better #it's almost 5000 words #HERE IT IS CHAPTER TWO #oh gosh i'm so sorry it's been so long #my appointment for my finger injury ain't until october but. slow and steady writing should be alright

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rpbetter · 3 years ago

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You make some really good posts!! Can I ask something about DNIs? I know it's not directly RP-related, but I have trouble as an RPer with how many DNIs, with urls, there are now. I try not to interact with muns who have them, I block them, because it feels manipulative? But I'm also tempted to block people who follow those muns, because they probably think their DNIs are okay to have, so they're still "bad", just not as bad? Do you think that's overkill, am I shooting myself in the foot?

Oh, thank you! I'm very happy you've enjoyed them!

And, of course, ask anything at all!

I think, ultimately, the answer to whether that's overkill is entirely dependent on what your experience is and if you're happy with it. I don't think it is overkill at all, but if you feel like it is costing you too many mutuals, it might be overkill for you.

I'm a pretty insular RPer, I like a handful of close writing partners that I write a lot of threads with, so, having something like, under ten writing partners is great for me while it's miserable for other muns. I can go wild on blocking and not have it negatively impact my enjoyment, but I know that's not the case for everyone!

And I do, actually, I do go pretty wild with the blocking when it comes to things like DNIs. If it comes off as policing to me, not just something like a difference of opinion or a strong opinion on something, I'm going to block. Otherwise, it's just recognizing that this isn't a mun I'm going to work out with, but no hard feelings. With policing though...I don't want that anywhere near me or my mutuals, so, it's going to be a block.

Because they do tend to be in these odd, like, nested situations lol I totally will spend the effort if their DNI is bad enough to look at the muns they interact with and make sure I don't have future contact with them either. The RPC is such a big place, making it easier to forget URLs than to remember them, but it's also a place where we establish circles of contact, making it easier to run into the same group repeatedly. I feel like it's better for my peace of mind to be a little more certain than not at all that this isn't going to happen as easily.

If that DNI etc. has been so awful, I definitely don't require their mutuals professing the same beliefs as loudly as they are. If you interact with someone, maybe you don't know their pet fish's name or the obscure lore in a headcanon they posted five years ago or the rule they updated without telling anyone, but you do know what is on their pinned post or blog description or rules. At some point, we all visit each other's blogs in dash-view if nothing else when we're getting replies or checking for memes they might have posted, going through their tags, whatever. I do not believe that you're mutuals who reblog from each other often, reply frequently to each other, ship each other's muses and so forth, and all this time, you've somehow failed to notice your bestie mun is telling proshippers to die in their DNI lmao

No, you've seen it. And I find it extremely hard to believe, too, that it's never come up in conversation OOC either.

So, this hypothetical mutual is so oblivious to others, completely agrees with the other one's views while not feeling confident enough to share them publicly, or is scared enough of the other one that they won't disagree...and no matter which/which combination that might be, they're not a mutual I want.

Especially when it comes to a DNI with someone's URL in it. Hard pass on anyone who is okay with that!

If I visited a writing partner's blog, let's say this person is also my closest friend, I value them and the threads I have with them so much, and I saw that in their DNI they had dropped someone's URL? We would have to talk. I'd have to bring it up because it's the right thing to do (and would also be highly out of character for any of my friends, thus very concerning). There would have to be a question posed about what happened here, why did you feel like this was a good choice, and do you think it's increasing or lessening the problem to have that there?

Honestly, sometimes people do get so upset about something that has happened that their worst impulses are let loose freely. When you ask someone you have an established relationship with about that, unless you're being really hateful about it right off, it can help them settle down, take a step back, and see that this is maybe not the right action to take. To me, silence says you're okay with it.

When muns started putting more elaborate DNI's in, that alone rubbed me the wrong way because I genuinely do not think that the majority of that information is at all necessary. It's something I can see and fully understand minors doing, not because they're terrible or anything but because the impulses and rationale are just different. You're very much geared to be as loud as possible about things that are important to you, making them a part of you in a huge way, as a teenager. Shit just is unreasonably intense! But as an adult, I expect that behavior to be different. You don't actually need to say on your RP blog's DNI that "transphobes WILL be blocked!!!"

Well, yes, I should hope so lol we're a community filled with muns who are trans, I'd certainly hope you were not cool with that kind of thing. It's one of those assumptive states, it goes without saying because, in a group of legitimate adults, it literally doesn't have to be said that a trans mun in a group of trans muns in a RPC filled with trans muns would be intolerant of transphobic assholes.

And, no one likes a damn transphobe, it's not like this stunning, fresh information, here. Not making such a statement does not, in fact, act as a welcome.

Saying that, and I do not mean literally just that, it's just an example of the type of things found in a common DNI, is a little immature for me. Some of those things are, in addition to being purely self-validating: playing into the fear created by policing, virtue signaling, policing, or baiting. And all of them are pointless. Telling someone who would already be bigoted toward you and others to not interact if they somehow miraculously ID as whatever label that takes for them to not interact with your posts is waving a metaphoric red flag in front of a bull. Kind of like tagging a post as either "antis don't interact" or "proshippers don't interact." Actual quickest and most assured way to get that interaction!

I totally understand the age thing, it's self-protecting. Most people do respect it, but when they don't, you've clearly stated that this is not for whatever age group. Things pertaining to your writing and/or muse I also understand and think are great for a quick glance before someone even gets to the rules. Having in a DNI something like "muns who are easily triggered by gore" when you write a horror muse, for instance. You're advising them that this isn't a great idea for them, and it shouldn't be expected that you change your muse and topics because they decided to follow anyway.

But it became excessive very quickly, and there is the expectation that blogs have a DNI. The further expectation is that there be a specific list of things found in that DNI, if yours does not include it, you obviously don't have a problem with those things. I really cannot be okay with that, you know?

However, when it wasn't being used as a callout or a way to police, that was something that could just be ignored. Once URLs of other RPers started to appear, it was a whole other problem.

It used to be the pervading rule of the RPC that it is not alright to force other muns to chose between you and another mun that you had an issue with, but now we have DNIs with other muns' URLs in them. Now, it's the opposite take - if you have an issue with a URL being dropped in a DNI, or if you continue to interact with the mun, you're likely to get a callout or be on the receiving end of other bullying.

So, I very much think the self-insulating thing to do is to avoid those mutuals as well as the RPer with the URL-laden DNI. They could just block you, but is someone who was so juvenile as to put another mun's URL in their damn DNI going to be mature enough to do that? Will their friends once they complain about you? For me, it's too high of a risk of being around muns I wish would take a very long break from RP and only come back once they've grown up some.

I would never advise anyone to do something that is erring on the side of getting them into harassment water unnecessarily (as in, not something that pertains to digging in your heels and writing what you want or not tolerating bullying where you see it happening), and I feel like not doing what you are is that. However, I also am a firm believer in agency, even to make mistakes.

So, if you genuinely feel like blocking mutuals of someone with a URL-dropped/callout/other highly offensive and bullying thing in their DNI is costing you so many chances to RP that you're no longer enjoying yourself here? You might want to consider adjusting how widely you are blocking.

If that's the case, try going for mutuals who are what I call Casual Mutuals and leaving them open. Those are mutuals that the mun doesn't write with often or at all, they're technically mutuals because they both follow each other, but that's it. There might be some liking of posts or even comments or non-committal, OOC style memes sent in by Casual Mutuals, but that interaction is sparse and, yep, casual. These mutuals might legitimately be unaware of the mun's hateful, bullying bullshit in the DNI, or they are actually afraid to unfollow/block them at this point, so their option feels like staying around as quietly as possible.

With that last deal...you could even be doing someone a favor, Anon. When I've encountered that situation before, it's come about because the other person's Casual Mutual is painfully anxious, shy, and a previous victim of bullying. They feel isolated, they don't have many or any writing partners, and they really, truly, are terrified to distance themselves in a way that might be noticed. It's a type of toxic interaction that rarely gets mentioned in PSAs, presumably because it is so low on the actual interaction scale.

Giving them someone else in their corner, especially if that other mun is more open about their intolerant stance on bullying, can go a long way toward giving someone else confidence. I've had other people's Casual Mutuals become my Casual Mutuals and wouldn't you know it? After a while, they get braver. They see my friends and mutuals doing our thing without any of the bullying going on, they see us supporting anti-policing and not tolerating bullying, and they get brave enough to unfollow the hateful mun. It feels nice to even inadvertently help someone, and over the years, some of those Casual Mutuals have become great writing partners, too. People I would have missed if I had made the choice to block them by the association of a hateful mun they were trapped in the orbit of.

Just try to exercise caution! You seem like a reasonable person who doesn't mind truly thinking on things or doing the work required to be cautious. Assume the close mutuals are a problem, too, and block away. Build a wall with some razor wire on it with those blocks! Don't assume the low-interaction, very casual mutuals are, though. Check out their blogs for signs of agreement with Hateful Mun, and if they don't have any, give them a shot as far as just leaving them unblocked goes.

I also have to say, here at the end, that it's extremely nice to see that people out there are doing this. Honestly would have thought I'd be the last person to encourage a ton of blocking, but that's the environment of the RPC now, and it's really the only way we can deal with this issue. You can't reason with these people, you can't stop them, you can only stay away from them for your own good and send a message that this isn't benefiting them. Not everyone agrees with them, they're not going to keep having people left open for their attacks or their RP entertainment. And if enough people are just walling them off, that is a message they'll have to receive because RP runs on interaction with others.

They might think they want every "nasty ass" xyz Problematic RPer to block them, not interact, or vanish from their view of the RPC, but I don't think they realize what that really looks like. What it looks like is a huge percentage of the RPC missing, including people they didn't realize were "problematic." We tend to be quieter, wanting to stay in our own lanes and actually enjoy the hobby and each other. That's why they have to resort to shit like making everyone pre-guilty, or setting up traps to catch people out on being "gross."

So, I genuinely do not think they're prepared for the rude awakening of silence that would happen if we all actually vanished, but I am dying to see it lol and do sometimes have to wonder if the complaints about the RPC being dead/dying/empty, not in a fandom but overall, are coming from the purity police some of the time. It's quite active over on the Leave Folks Alone Over Fiction side of life :D

#answered #anonymous #policing #dni lists #blocking #rp advice #rp problems

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goldeneyedgirl · 4 years ago

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Part 2 of MCU/Twilight verse

“That MCU crossover I’m writing that actually hasn’t mentioned the MCU at all yet.”

Alt 7: Found Family

Rating: T for swearing

Words: 2,551

Summary: Twilight X MCU crossover. The Snap doesn’t just kill humans. What happens next?

Notes: Is this even Whump-y enough to count to Whumptober? I don’t know, everyone’s grieving. I made myself watch Endgame again and I found something useful. I know it probably feels like I wiped out a lot of characters, but there’s method to my madness. I’m desperately resisting the urge to make some obvious corrections to the MCU, and I’m pretty sure the last two chapters are going to be needlessly self-indulgent. And yes, I need a title.

Part One here

two. survivors

What happens next?

It’s a good question, and one Alice used to be able to answer. Her predictions have… well, they haven’t stopped, but there are less. Maybe she’s not saying everything but he doesn’t press.

They stay in Forks. It’s the easiest option, really. They have resources at the Forks house - all of Jasper’s computers, Rose’s cars, Carlisle’s medication stash. And for, now, it makes sense to keep up the masquerade - the orphaned Cullen kids, in that big old house.

And Seth Clearwater. Neither of them have made more than polite inquiries about the Quileute reservation, because what can they do, really? They weren’t allowed on the land, and nothing they offer will be accepted. Seth doesn’t want to talk about it either, so they just… don’t. Not yet.

The first announcements and news reports are hard to listen to - half of all living creatures. Humans, animals, plants, sea-life… just gone. Then there are the people who survived, but died in the aftermath; the patients in surgery with the dust of their surgeons sinking into their chest cavity, the passengers on an airplane, the school bus with no driver. The news plays on, listing losses and catastrophes until he loudly asks if Seth wants to play Xbox instead.

Alice goes with them, and sits crosslegged on a recliner, watching them.

“Carlisle would have liked that,” she says suddenly, when Emmett realises the error in picking a war game - should have opted for a racing game instead.

“Liked what?” he asks, as he gets up to change the disc. Seth doesn’t say anything, playing with the recliner buttons instead.

“‘Half of all living creatures’,” she quotes. She’s been wearing one of Jasper’s t-shirts under her cardigan, and the scent of his brother is fading the longer she wears it. “Carlisle would have appreciated that. That the universe thought we were living creatures. Might have convinced Edward that we weren’t total monsters, either.”

Seth looks up at her, confused. “Why wouldn’t you be living creatures?” he asks, concentrating at the recliner tips him right back.

“We don’t breathe or age or change,” Alice says, a smirk playing around her face as Seth yelps when the entire chair begins to tip, but luckily it doesn’t fall.

“But you eat,” Seth accepts the controller Emmett passes him. “And you’ve got families. That means you still count.”

“I wish we didn’t.” Emmett doesn’t realise he’s said those words aloud until he realises Seth and Alice are both staring at him. He wants to explain that if they didn’t count, then there wouldn’t be five vases lined up on the mantel (three empty) full of dust. That he wouldn’t be sitting here playing Xbox with Seth Clearwater, and Alice wouldn’t be wearing leggings and her husband’s t-shirt, looking brittle and tired. That he wouldn’t go into their room every night, and bury his face in Rose’s clothes to keep himself from going insane.

But he doesn’t need to. They both understand - Alice sits with Seth when the boy sniffles and tries to hide it; Emmett hears Alice padding around Jasper’s office, having a conversation with thin air, questions asked to silence. If there was some loophole they could grab with both hands and exploit, he knows he and Alice and Seth would take it, humanity and life and all those upright and moral things be damned.

“Just what everyone needs,” Alice muses, leaning back and stretching like a cat. “A world where humans and animals were cut in half but the vampires weren’t.”

And she’s right. That would be a mess. The fucking end of times.

“That would be a cool movie,” Seth says absently, focused on the screen and forcing Emmett’s car off the road and into a ravine.

Alice watches them play for awhile before getting up. A few minutes later, there’s a knock at the door and low voices. Charlie Swan, with Carlisle’s phone. Emmett lets Seth win a second race, focused on the conversation Alice is having - why it took Charlie so damn long to bring the phone, how they’re holding up; his irritation at the delay it took to get Carlisle’s phone is tempered when he hears the genuine concern Charlie has for Alice. He doesn’t know much about Bella’s father, but he seems like a good guy.

Not that Alice needs to act the part - she looks broken. Most of the time he feels like he’s seeing a part of her that he shouldn’t be seeing, that the loss and grief that becomes her is somehow shameful to witness; it’d be less awkward to see her naked than to see her twisting Jasper’s t-shirt in her hands with that glassy look of hopelessness she tries to hide.

Alice feels the same about him; that Emmett without Rose is devoid of that joie de vivre, that endless good humour, the extra joke. He feels tired in his bones, deflated, and distracted with the space in his chest that Rose used to fill. He feels like an old man, when he was never finished being a young man, never made it to middle-age.

But they are trying. Especially with Seth in the house - he’s taken over the bedroom that Esme planned to give to Bella, mostly because it didn’t stink of vampires as much as any other room; and neither of them wanted to dismantle Esme’s studio or Carlisle’s office. It wasn’t really much - a mattress and boxspring, a dresser and desk. Alice had given him a laptop to use, and found some new bedding for him, and occasionally even remembered that a fourteen year old boy shouldn’t be eating pizza six nights a week, and probably needed more boundaries than they were giving him. But Alice isn’t maternal, and her attempts at forcing vegetables and a bedtime on Seth usually get forgotten within a day or two.

Charlie Swan leaves, and he listens as Alice puts Carlisle’s phone into his vase, and then he focuses on the game so that Seth doesn’t think he’s letting him win because of pity or anything.

—

It’s not until late summer than people start bothering them. Parents of classmates who suddenly don’t have any children of their own to worry over. Colleagues and acquaintances who feel some kind of lingering responsibility. Busy-bodies, usually a part of some self-aggrandising self-appointed community group butting into everyone’s grief.

Alice ignores the early attempts to interfere, to crack open both the metaphorical and literal door for anyone who isn’t Charlie Swan. She’s taken to doing the oddest tasks, but Emmett doesn’t ask. At the moment, she’s painting every single door in the house with a swirling pattern of flowers that is tiny and detailed and fills up the day. Esme would have a conniption if she saw her lovely doors like this (he remembers when Alice and Jasper first arrived, and her art projects ran afoul of Esme - she had apologised and channeled that manic energy into embroidery instead; there’s a pair of unspeakably ugly curtains hanging in the Vermont house from one panicked week when Jasper went off with Peter and Charlotte).

Then the harassment starts - both her and him, since he’s apparently considered her ‘guardian’. Alice hangs up the phone numerous times wordlessly before being so outstandingly rude to Mrs Newton that both he and Seth stare at her before Emmett remembers he’s actually supposed to be in charge - as far as the rest of the town knows, at least - and calls to deter any more visits or phone calls or casseroles because Alice isn’t well and the disruptions are upsetting her.

If Carlisle or Esme were here, they’d think to send Mrs Newton flowers or something as an apology, but they aren’t, and no one can get Alice to apologise when she doesn’t want to, and Seth confided in him that she’s crying when he’s hiding in the garage and Seth is totally at a loss over what to do about a crying girl that isn’t Leah, so maybe they’ll just leave it at that. Give the town something new to gossip about.

But it does spark sudden realisation in both Cullens about a topic that has been long forgotten - school. Alice and Emmett have both graduated, but Seth had not. Seth had another four glorious years in high school, even if the Res school is down to double digits of enrolments, and probably won’t even run every weekday.

Seth whines and begs and negotiates until Alice stamps her foot and demands to know what Sue Clearwater would say and that makes Seth all small and miserable, and Alice hates herself and Emmett solves the problem by making a large donation through one of their anonymous charities to the Res school so that Seth can at least do online learning, and apparently that’s a huge deal that is on the local news, and that makes Alice and Seth laugh because only Emmett would stop a teenage boy’s whining by revolutionising a tribe’s educational provisions with a cheque large enough to sustain a small city for a year.

But it’s good help - it means the children who suddenly have no parents and have to raise siblings can still study; it means that half-empty classrooms don’t necessarily mean half-empty classes; it also means that other tribes with larger losses and no way of schooling are invited to join them.

That’s one good thing they’ve managed.

He also fixed the backdoor as good as new, so it should be two, but he’s pretty sure that doesn’t count now that Alice has painted flowers blooming and dying all over it.

At some point they both bully Seth into going home again, to get his own stuff - clothes and bedding and photos and all those things you look for when you’re in a house that isn’t yours. He yells at them, they yell at him, and he storms off. But now there’s a photo of him with his parents and sister on his dresser, and a bunch of books crowding his desk, and the world’s most beat-up DS under his pillow. There are more photos, somewhere - Emmett knows that because Alice knows where they are and then one day there are two framed photos joining the vases on the mantle - one of Sue and Harry Clearwater on their wedding day, and one of Leah laughing. Neither of them knows what happened to Sue or Leah precisely on that day, but Seth doesn’t bring the ashes with him, so they don’t ask.

Summer folds into fall, and what’s left of Esme’s gardens wither up. Charlie Swan checks on them every few weeks, sounding tired. There’s a lot of work for him right now - mostly community and social issues, like scared and orphaned children hiding, people struggling with money, grief, religion. There’s been some shortages of food, since there’s less being grown, less people to process and package and ship it, and a little town hours outside of Seattle is not a priority to whomever is deciding where to send a milk delivery.

They order Seth’s food from high-end places online that deliver them quickly and quietly; Alice starts choosing long-life and bulk items, and no one needs to ask because it’s obvious things will get worse before they get better. Seth holds a pretty intense grudge against the powdered strawberry milk, though.

But food shortages are the least of their worries, as Alice uses the dining room wall to start taking nonsensical notes, and Emmett’s heard enough stories to know that losing a mate can be… well, he’s not having much fun, but the very last thing he needs is to wrangle Alice if she’s lost her mind. Dead or not, he knows he could never lay a hand on her even if she did go nuts out of love for his family, out of respect for Jasper, and out of this funny bond they’ve somehow formed, being the last ones left.

The notes turn into lists, lists of everyone they’ve ever known, in her swirling handwriting. Even people they know are gone, like Bella, goes on the list.

Then she starts striking out names, like she’s slashing with a knife - Carlisle, Esme, Jasper, Rosalie, Edward, Bella, Charlie, Sue, Leah, Sam, Jacob, Paul… Slash, slash, slash.

Then it starts getting interesting. Peter and Charlotte are gone, but so are half the goddamned Volturi (Alice smirks as she crosses out Caius, Jane, Alec, Dimitri because imagining Aro on his throne with grief-mad Marcus and only the minions is a pretty picture indeed). Carmen and Tanya have survived, but Kate, Irina, and Eleazer are gone. Garrett is alive, but Randall and Mary aren’t. J Jenks didn’t make it either, which makes things… difficult.

Alice scowls darkly as she scratches out Maria’s name, and Emmett wonders if it’s because she didn’t get to do the honours of destroying the Mexican harpy herself. Or because wherever Jasper is now, so is Maria, and Alice is left behind.

Finally, she is done, and the list is nearly balanced in living and dead. Alice’s left eye twitches, and whatever she’s thinking she doesn’t say as she stands up.

“Alaska and then Mexico, then,” she says to him, and he gives her the Look that he gives her and Edward and Jasper every time one of them forgets that not everyone has a gift and some of them have to use their words.

“We need to check on Carmen and Tanya; I think they need us,” Alice explains, still examining the list. “I saw that we need to go. And then we’re going down to Mexico.”

“Maria’s dead,” he gestures at her list, and Seth wanders in stuffing his face with Pringles, and turns white at the sight of Esme’s freshly defaced walls; evidently Motherly Wrath is something universal across all of the species.

“Maria’s dead, and left behind a bunch of fresh newborns,” Alice sounds tired. “There’s no one left for clean up, Em, no one who knows. And it will be bad if we don’t step in soon.”

There might be something cathartic in that for Alice, undoing Maria’s life’s work. Maria’s lands weren’t exactly in the wealthiest or most populated lands these days - Jasper kept a secret map that wasn’t at all a secret - and if going down there and taking off a few heads saves a mother or father or child, then maybe it’s worth the hassle.

“Fine. Alaska and Mexico,” he agrees, and Seth cheers.

“Road-trip!” he declares around a mouthful of chips. Alice rolls her eyes.

“I’ll make you up a passport,” she says, not even bothering to argue with the younger boy that he’ll be joining them. “We’ll take the Jeep, Em - Rose just finished it.”

The words hang in the air for a second, and he nods in agreement. There might be something in that, taking the last gift-gesture-offering Rose ever did for him on their End-of-the-World Road Trip. Alice can rip the heads off newborns, he can drive around in the SUV his wife carefully and lovingly put together just to please him, and maybe he’ll buy Seth a beer in Tijuana.

Closest thing they’ll ever get to therapy, he supposes.

#my fic: jar of hearts #alice cullen #emmett cullen #seth clearwater #twilight fic #i should check the jalice prompts again for ch 3 #but is this crossovery enough for a crossover?#like we're aggressively not talking about the avengers yet #we'll get there #i promise the roadtrip isn't just an excuse to run into captain america buying a milkshake or something #there is plot and purpose #we are above that sort of cloying and anemic meet cute #in this fic at least #others not so much

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

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All in the Family

Chapter 18: The Man with Two Faces

The result of landing on concrete stairs would cause anyone's head to ring. Let alone after being teleported in the worst version of apparition ever, for what, the seventeenth time now? All while hearing about your kid from the future while you were dead. James felt lucky his head was still attached as he sat up, massaging his aching neck muscles and having to give a very bleary look to these, once again, new surroundings. He found them the least fantastic yet.

The stone stairs they'd landed on descended in a perfect square all the way to the bottom, the only lighting source flickering about was the black fire from the only doorway out of this room. It should have been a rather calm place, certainly not as terrifying considering some past rooms, but there was an echo of death in this one that only the unicorn before had housed. The promise they did not want to be in here.

Wobbling to his feet, he did a quick headcount and still found everyone present, and the book laying innocently on the floor. He was exhausted, and despite the multiple opportunities he'd been given to talk to Evans, and more importantly, this whole instance had forced Remus and Sirius to make up, he was more than ready for this to be over.

Despite being insanely curious who had been on the other side of Harry's door, he still paused in confusion of that chapter title. Two faces? Was that supposed to be a metaphor? He hated those.

"Ha!" Lily shouted at the top of her lungs, and despite being completely wrong and feeling every moment of it, he still paused to watch her rub it in. "I told every one of you miserable lots it wasn't my friend, and I was right! It was that sniveling coward in it all for the gold!"

"I never disagreed with you," Regulus informed her superior smirk, "he was a perfectly viable option." He didn't see why she found herself so smart not falling for the red herring of a villain, it had been fairly obvious if it wasn't Snape it was him, considering the idea someone else entirely had been running in and out of this castle to get that Stone was utterly ridiculous.

"You just agreed with a Muggleborn," Sirius stopped whatever he'd been doing along the stairs to instead stare at his brother like he'd declared himself such a thing. "Our mother would faint on the spot...I'm so proud!"

"Shut up Sirius," Regulus snapped at him at once. "If she's right, she's right, I don't see it happening again."

Lily's haughty expression only grew at still somehow being the butt of their jokes and stalked as far away from all of them as she could.

"Damn it Sirius, you're not helping," James sighed as he watched her storm off.

"I was trying to congratulate him being a decent person, sorry that didn't come across," Sirius shrugged without much concern as he went back to performing his spell on the stairs to find out what was really down here. This was supposedly the place where the Stone was being held all this time, Dumbledore's enchantment, how come nothing was happening to them being in here? Yet no matter what spell he cast or enchantment he tried to invoke, he found nothing to disarm, let alone anything out of the ordinary from this place.

James just went back to reading, and immediately noticed something odd. "Hey, he's not stuttering this time?"

"Thank goodness we never had to try reading much of that," Remus muttered as he stayed where he'd landed and kept rubbing at his abused ribs. "It would have been a disaster."

"No Moony, pay attention," Peter rolled his eyes, "why wouldn't he have a stutter anymore?"

It took a moment for his heavy eyes to focus, but after a few sluggish blinks it clicked in for everyone.

"Why would he fake such a thing?" Alice whispered, checking every shadow now to make sure he didn't burst out of here next.

"Perhaps that centaurs warning should have been taken with much more concern than we previously thought," Frank murmured, "and with a much more pressing time concern."

"Don't start that," Lily tried to fret while shifting uneasily on the spot, all wands still drawn and now pointed to every shadow. "Harry himself said You-Know-Who wasn't in here."

"The man would be hard to miss, even with Quirrell's absurd turban," James tried to agree despite his own unease. He felt the most defenseless, holding the book now and unable to properly hold his wand in his injured hand. He trusted his friends to cover him if anything happened, and he'd drop this in an instant to help, but for now he tried to quickly keep going, only to be stunned once again at the next revelation.

"Bless my soul," James breathed, looking like someone had just punched him in the gut. He searched for her just like always, and she finally met his eyes back, until he was the one to look away. Having to swallow past five years of solid hatred, he looked back and said sincerely, "I, guess I really was wrong about him."

Her brow remained creased, she didn't quite smile back, but for once there was something akin to recognizing he was talking to her without that superior tone she so hated, as if of course she should want to speak back.

"Now don't go spare on me Prongs," Black cut in, ruining the moment and returning her scowl to him at once. His voice still sounded a bit shotty and as painful as James' hand felt, but James couldn't imagine anything stopping Sirius talking long, least of all a plant. "He's still been a ruddy arse to Harry all year, plus those other kids! Someone needs to give him a good kick up the-"

"He went out of his way to save my kids life!" Potter defended at once, and it took a moment for Lily to fully process that. James Potter was defending her friend Sev. "I think that may mean he's not the totally irredeemable bug we found him." Well, in his own way.

Black looked to his other two friends for support, but both of them seemed more than happy to not pick sides on this.

James chose to keep going, and found his resolution wavering at once. Snape hated his kid, for what? Because of him? Was he really going to carry on a grudge to his kid? He knew if roles were reversed he certainly wouldn't like Snape's kid, but he'd never go out of his way to humiliate one like this teacher had been doing.

This was an idea he'd nurse at a later time, for now he was much more concerned with Quirrell doing wandless magic, and monologuing!

Protective instincts kicked in, and he was hardly paying attention to a word he was saying, only focused on the idea that Harry could die from this! Quirrell could have easily killed him by now, or take him off to You-Know-Who! He couldn't even bring himself to glance up, far too invested in this, to see that the others were just as concerned.

The mirror of Erised finally made Sirius stop his incessant checking of the room, they all froze for a moment at that! There must be some secret they were missing, no way would Dumbledore put something in place that showed your deepest desire, which in this case, would be where the Stone was!

Remus had to clear his throat hard past his confusion, but quickly stated, "there must be a trick to this we hadn't understood, it's Dumbledore after all! When's he ever done the obvious thing."

"You've far too much faith in that man," Lily told him, but there wasn't much derision in her voice. A lot of the teachers here had grated on her nerves, constantly not expelling the Marauders and all, and most recently their headmaster had even helped keep something under wraps that the Marauders had all been arguing about. That's all the school had worked out anyways, no matter how wild the explanations of this got.

Lupin's smile turned both relieved and genuinely enthusiastic for the explanation they all got. Black threw his head back laughing at once when Quirrell in fact stated the entire problem they hadn't considered.

"What he most desires is the use of the Stone, not the actual location, therefore he'll never find it," Regulus mused to himself out loud. "That's quite brilliant."

"I just wish the Mirror was in here again," Pettigrew sighed. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Who knows, but considering you still haven't even told us what you'd see in there, it can't be that important," Black rolled his eyes.

Pettigrew gave him a little glare, then glanced at Potter quickly and waved him on to change the subject.

Quirrell transitioning into stating You-Know-Who had in fact been at the school during the time Harry had overheard him being threatened was possibly the scariest part yet. Their headmaster had still been at the school at that time, it seemed ridiculous You-Know-Who had gotten in at that time, right? Quirrell just kept going though, seemingly talking to himself, but then getting an answer. This was crazy, they were convinced everything was out to kill Harry Potter!

He now had the Stone in his pocket? Regulus at once took back what he said about brilliance, if the thing could just appear like that anyways! This kid had just been sentenced to death, they were all sure of that.

All of them, because no one wanted to hear of You-Know-Who murdering an eleven year old child, while sticking out of the back of someone's head!

None of them had ever actually seen You-Know-Who. He was a ghost story, the figure their parents spoke of that was trying their very lives, but inside the confines of this castle, they were safe from him. Now that illusion was ruined, they got more of an idea than they'd ever wanted of his features, his future.

"How is that thing possible!" Frank hissed backing as far away from that book as he could go. "Vapor! Even ghosts can't take over bodies of another!"

"If you find out, do let us know," Regulus murmured, unable to wrap his mind around the fearsome Dark Lord, the powerful bringer of their world, into this. A shadow of a creature, not even human. This was like magic of nothing he'd ever heard, it wasn't natural. Wasn't that the idea though, the promise he'd been offered, to go forward in life with one who had already conquered death. Was this the end of that quest?

He could still see the look in Bellatrix's eyes, the vivacious gleam as she told of her first duty as a Death Eater, serving the Dark Lord. She kept grabbing her arm in reverence, though never revealed what could be under her sleeve, she kept stroking the spot and promising him this could all be his as well very soon. Why should he have said no? Looking on at Sirius now, a mingled disgust and fury such a blight could exist, he honestly felt himself in that moment it was very clear what his answer should have been.

Yet this was no more easy an answer than not taking his cousins offer to go someplace special with her this summer. Because the Potter's had been murdered, and had apparently been nothing but weak willed saps about it the whole time. He'd rather die than be such a useless wizard, and serving the Dark Lord was the only way to make sure he fulfilled his life's roll.

"That's a lie!" Sirius thundered so loud, for a moment Regulus was sure the roof would cave in. "How dare he ever-" Lupin grasped his shoulder hard, Pettigrew was white knuckled and grasping Potter's elbow, who looked faint at his own words. Then as Harry shouted much the same, Potter still managing to keep going to see his kids reaction was all Regulus could think, the Dark Lord himself admitted he had not been telling the truth in that moment. Potter had fought back and what's more, the Muggleborn stood her ground to protect her young, which someone of lesser magic should never have been able to do. So what was the truth? How had the Dark Lord become this way? What was he agreeing to follow?

His mother would curse him if she heard he'd been asking all these questions, but this is why he'd never spoken such things aloud, he'd seen Sirius do this first. His father would be far more than disappointed hearing Regulus had been consorting with Muggleborns, even agreeing with one of them, and not defending the Dark Lord's will now as he bade Quirrell attack Harry and there was uproar all around. Instead he kept his silence, just like he always did, and chose instead to watch these events play out.

Lily found herself leaning against the wall, pale and shaking from hearing of a death now marked for her more vividly than ever. No distance in the world she put up would make hearing this any better, she'd be sacrificing her life for a child she had refused a connection to up until this point, she suddenly felt as cruel and heartless a monster as Voldemort. Alice was suddenly there, grasping her hands and promising her this wasn't set in stone, but Lily could picture it, now more than ever. Could no longer pretend she wasn't entertaining a future with a child in her arms, and a death for his future as surely as her own.

The struggle of Harry against Quirrell was terrible to listen to, the pain that child must have been feeling as his own scar seared him while he found the one way to harm his opponent echoed around this room as if they could still hear the screams. His, falling, his passing out, and Potter just stopping there, surely Harry had died, and You-Know-Who would rise again as if this were nothing.

"James?" Peter whispered, staying close and trying to offer all the comfort he could, but it felt like he wasn't even there. He just remained frozen, gaping down at the book and still pale as a ghost.

"Prongs," Sirius said forcefully, and that did snap him out of it, like only Sirius could. His head swung towards him, but his eyes remained unfocused.

"Harry he..."

"It's alright Prongs," Peter soothed, patting his shoulder and reaching forward like he was going to take the book, "we still have time to fix this, I'm sure Harry's death-"

"He didn't die," still slightly devoid of just a bit of sanity from hearing it all, James finally looked properly at all his friends. "There's still more left, he's going to be fine!"

Remus felt a bit concerned for his health, but Sirius was quick to play along. "Of course he is, he survived when he was a baby, right! Ten years later, bah, he'll walk away with another cool scar!"

"You're incorrigible," Peter grumbled to all of them, but James looked just slightly heartened and kept going, having to wait hardly at all to find Padfoot to be right.

"Ya hear that Evans? Hey, Lily? Harry's survived, he thinks Dumbledore's turned into a Snitch," Alice kept gently trying to coax a reaction out of the red head who seemingly went comatose.

The girls words did seem to put something back into her, she snorted in surprise and glanced back around her, finding Alice with the brightest most encouraging smile of anyone, and Frank waiting patiently for her to come back to her senses before offering, "there you go, see, Dumbledore did come and fix everything. I'm sure we were just being paranoid before thinking he set all this up." Well, he was clearly trying for comfort.

He was a big guy, broad shouldered with white blond hair and sharp blue eyes, but he always spoke in a soft, kindly voice as if afraid to startle anyone. Lily appreciated that right now. Whatever his goal, it had worked, Lily refocused her energy on a child she couldn't yet lay claim to no matter how attached she felt to him, and realized there was someone right now she could question. As soon as they got out of here, she'd have something to say to Dumbledore.

She held her tongue though, not really looking for another argument which she was sure she'd get from Lupin at least, the way he'd been defending the man of late. Instead she listened intently to the, informative, passage between Harry and Dumbledore in the hospital wing.

At least he started with the important information, that Quirrell was gone, and the Stone was safe. Potter seemed to have a hard time saying the words Harry had nearly died doing so, and finally Lily understood what he had seemingly grasped at once from all this. This was a child not yet born, but could someday exist. Why not, at least for now while traveling through his world, learn to understand him.

"The thing?" Regulus demanded, askance at once. That mirror itself had been a stupid explanation as far as he was concerned, genius indeed! If you left any room for it to be pulled back out by anyone but yourself than you were a fool! "He really did set all this up for that Potter kid to find out about all of this? Go down there and what, prove himself?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Lupin scoffed. "He's impressed Harry found out about Flamel, that's all. He would never try to get Harry dragged into this!"

"Sure seems that way," Frank disagreed as he thought back through it all. "That door was ridiculously easy to get through, those challenges certainly were easy for a bunch of first years, clearly the only problem You-Know-Who had was getting past Fluffy, though that admittedly was no one's fault, Hagrid seems a bit of a blabber mouth."

"Easy! Harry almost died there at the end, Dumbledore said it himself!" Potter fired right back.

"You-Know-Who being on the back of Quirrell's head was not part of the challenges, likely an unforeseen event at all, I'm sure the man's never had You-Know-Who slip into this school like that before, let alone at all."

"You're just looking for someone to blame because You-Know-Who nearly came back," Remus snarled. "Dumbledore's not a Seer, this isn't his fault, and Harry's a very nosy kid who got in and got lucky. Don't you put this on anyone else!"

"Okay," Peter cut in before anyone could return with something else. "We could argue about this all day, but for the love of Merlin, James is almost done. Can we please let him finish and go back to arguing about this in the real world."

Remus turned away, clearly thinking his point had been made, while Frank rolled his eyes heavily at such a daft idiot blindly following anyone. He wasn't saying Dumbledore was pure evil, but some accountability for the man who clearly had a plan from the beginning would be nice, having Hagrid pick that thing up in the first place right along with Harry Potter felt like no coincidence.

James was at least grateful to Peter for that, but was stunned stupid only a few moments later when again their headmaster encouraged Harry to call Voldemort by his name.

"But, why?" He wondered aloud, clearly only to his friends attention now, the other four were just shifting impatiently and waiting for this to be done rather than dwelling on something so ludicrous to them. He'd done it on a rare occasion when he was trying to prove something, but never so casually.

"Don't know, I suppose I've always done it out of habit," Sirius muttered. Now he thought about it though, Dumbledore was right. If they kept refusing to acknowledge the real name, they may even grow fearful enough to start flinching like twits along with everyone else, though thankfully the four of them had never delved that far into it.

James eyed that for a moment, before going on cheerfully through the rest of the conversation calling him Voldemort as well. Evans, Frank and Alice, looked at him like he'd gone nuts, but only shifted uneasily at something so unfamiliar happening right in front of them. Regulus was the only one who flinched, outright ducked like he expected someone to pummel him just for being in hearing range of this, but was ignored.

The idea of him coming back again, just in another body, was truly terrifying, and James certainly hoped that didn't happen until someone found a way to keep, Voldemort, as far away from Harry as it was possible to be. Dumbledore's statement was certainly helpful to him, he'd set out himself to make sure he never full returned!

Then Harry asked a really good question, why him, why the Potters? Sadly he cursed Dumbledore's name colorfully for the lack of response, earning a glare from Moony but not much else. He certainly hoped Harry lived to be old enough to hear the answer.

At least it was explained what exactly had gone on with Harry and Quirrell's inability to lay hands on him. His voice went soft, he dared not look to Evans, but no matter his mind telling him otherwise his eyes betrayed him and he glanced over to her.

Her face was impassive, and though she'd been trying not to show it, James had seen hints the past few times she was growing to care for at least the idea of Harry. He couldn't tell now what this had done for it, but he certainly hoped she didn't find it as repulsive anymore, that was his kid, their kid! And she was his saving grace, the reason they were getting this experience! He'd be sobbing and bouncing off the walls in her place, sadly all he got for his efforts was more questions in wondering why he couldn't have done that for her and Harry.

Dumbledore stating he'd left his Invisibility Cloak in anyone's possession was laughable to him right now, but no matter the circumstances of that he was just happy it had somehow landed where it was supposed to with Harry. Considering he was feigning any knowledge of it right now though, he couldn't do more than exchange meaningful looks with his friends, but couldn't quite get all the way past it.

"Snuck down to the school kitchens eh? Thought you didn't have this thing now," Alice frowned at him.

"I don't," James shrugged as carelessly as he was capable of. He was fairly good at it when not confronted by Evans. "Must get it in the next year or so, looking forward to that at least!"

He did not appreciate Harry asking about Snape's hatred, terrified it would erupt something between Remus and Sirius again, but Dumbledore's answer was very thankfully diplomatic, and the two simply shifted awkwardly but seemed able to make no more fuss about it. James honestly just hoped it would never come up again, he didn't like the calculating look he caught on the other group.

"You, saving Snivellus' life!" Peter thankfully broke the tension by bursting out laughing, and thankfully only the three of them knew it as his too high pitched, nervous giggle while trying to shield something. "You'd sooner snog the man!"

"As if I needed more nightmares Wormtail," James made a disgusted face at him while giving him a grateful smile and loudly moving on.

Ron and Hermione's entrance was a bit adorable, they were all happy those kids made it out as surely as Harry. Harry and Hermione's conversation about Dumbledore's desire to have all this happen certainly wasn't helping the tension though, so James quickly moved past that, and the news of a Quidditch defeat as that would make no one feel better, and found himself genuinely touched at what Hagrid did for Harry.

"That is the best gift ever!" Sirius whispered, his eyes gleaming with want right now. He'd love to get his hands on that photo album, see pictures of them in their future, proof of Evans and James' wedding for one.

His best mates small smile completely agreed, the four of them already knew they couldn't hold a grudge for what Hagrid had unintentionally done to Harry, this gift more than made up for everything, even the dragon, Sirius grudgingly decided.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Alice's brows shot up in absolute outrage when the End of Term feast held Dumbledore giving points to those kids. She'd clung to disbelief through all three, surely Dumbledore really wasn't doing this.

"I think it's sweet," James chuckled. "Harry deserves a reward for saving the world from, Voldemort, and he would have gotten those points if he'd played Ravenclaw anyways."

"He lost those points because he was sneaking out of bed at night, nothing to do with the Stone!" Frank protested.

"At least they only tied Slytherin for the cup, and didn't outright, oh, never mind," Regulus rolled his eyes heavily as Dumbledore and Potter finished.

Alice and Frank wanted to still be mad, they honestly understood why Slytherin would feel snubbed for this happening, but at the same time they couldn't hide a beaming pride Neville got those last points, that their kid stood up for his house like that. It really made them understand why the Marauders were hooting and high-fiving Harry's accomplishment, even if they held themselves back from doing the same.

Potter's mood sobered at once, all of them feeling downcast this was ending with something as depressing as Harry having to go back to those Muggles who didn't deserve to have such a kid in their presence.

James found himself finishing the last pages with a spring in his voice though, an honest feeling of hope. He'd take the information given in this, and the first thing he'd do when he got back was see to it this didn't have to be his future.

#Harry Potter #Fanfiction #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Marauders #Wolfstar #Regulus Black #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith

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heroiclicrs-archived-blog · 6 years ago

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Diabla tag drop!

#♥️ ic | I’m the one I fear the most ittle did I know that I was a lonely crying wolf #♥️ musing | only fools make feasts of gold they rot the fruit on tables. when did I become that pitiful?#♥️ aes. | no i did not want this throne. I never sold my soul if I did please throw me to the wolves #♥️ about | don’t need a metaphor for you to know im miserable

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blindtaleteller · 4 years ago

Note

1, 2, 8 and 39 for the asks please ☺️💜💜

1. What’s your favorite character(s) to write for? That first one is A LOT harder than you might think: because of writing Lokiverse. Twenty one universes but all the same characters right? No. No, and I sometimes wish! XD So.. so wrong actually that you have no idea. I can’t just say ‘Loki’ when it comes to Lokiverse because that’s not always true from one universe to the next; and the way they present their differences, the relationships they have that have changed, and character have changed because their history and experiences have all changed in some way, and that affects them in huge and sometimes very subtle ways that makes them each very different versions of that same creature. That said; It’s really tied, between three of them right now.. if I had to pick: and definitely shifts from time to time. Gin is one of those three, from Universe/Door 5. Viedimadr, Clint Barton from Door 10 aka DREAMS is another (although Clint in general is just straight up torturous fun to write anyways, all the time.) And for the third definitely Tony. Any version, of Tony: though I do greatly enjoy Leadsprite (Door/Universe 15) and Charmer (Door/Universe 8; GROUNDED) in particular. Both are incredibly messed up, beautifully passionate dweebs.

2. What character(s) do you find the most difficult to write for? Why? Hands down, Bruce Banner. For some reason, that muse is almost as good at emotional sucker-punches as Clint and Quill, who would be number two and three: only because Bruce manages it much faster for me even when quiet. I’ve pointed this one out before: but in GROUNDED I swapped a scene with Wanda and Natasha post Ultron in, and a much shorter one with Bruce during Ultron and after Loki ‘died’ out: only to put it in later as a BONUS TRACK. And yeah, I think I broke down and cried two, three times? While fleshing it out from his perspective. Cause here’s this guy who hopped on the train late, but accepted him as a friend finally; and then as the only thing close to medical staff they had not only had to be woken up to try and save his life after the bomb; but fail miserably at it, and have to hand him over to shield again only to be told they were failing too. Given hope when they ultimately handed him reluctantly back to Asgard, and have him wake up for Christmas: only to have that friend still die in his sleep after he slipped back into the ‘coma’.

And he’s left with all that, and being the only monster in his eyes left on the team again; added on to everything else piling up on the way to and through Ultron. Yeah, this is the kind of heartrending shit Bruce Banner sneaks in on me. The ‘I got nothin to say today’ muses can be hard? But No. Nothing compared to the immediate need to stop and breathe and find a damned box of kleenex Banner manages to stab me in the lungs with every time I let a version of him loose on my keyboard.

8. Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi chaptered stories? I think I don’t have a preference actually. It really depends on the writing, and how well thought out that story is, to the very end. I’ve read one shots that I enjoyed more than 30+ chapter amazeballs long-fics. Likewise? I’ve read long fics through that were a super struggle to read past chapter one, because they couldn’t hold my attention, passed over the ‘believable’ and ‘coherant’ thresholds that exist even for fantasy, or just because the author lost their own view of where they were going and spent WAY too much time trying to track it back that way when they did catch it again

I don’t often like the ‘one line one quote’ habits some fic writers have these days, or the ‘bullet list’ (though I’ve seen and know some here and elsewhere who actually make that work, especially in reader inserts.) To me, a lot of those I come across read more like a script than a fic, with very little flesh to the world and characters in it that kind of defeats the point for me personally. If I want to read a script, I’ll go and read a script? But when I want to read a fanfiction; I usually expect a little more effort than that? I want to see the world and characters they’re building. And that usually takes more than one line, and one quote per paragraph to accomplish.

Short stories, and one shot doesn’t mean shortened, lamed down sentences. Trust your readers, and explore your vocabulary. At worst, some of them might learn a word you knew that they didn’t.

39. What area of writing do you feel strongest in? Fuck me, if metaphors doesn’t immediately jump out and get screamed laughing from many directions at me from the brainkids. This very second --no joke, it’s in my other tab-- I’m working one through Tony as part of the next platovember post that had him comparing his literal understanding and mastery of of Math and Physics of the physical world, with the more conceptual Math and Physics of Chaos and how people react to information and the world around them create and shape it: and Loki’s understanding and mastery of that as it takes form in his manipulative skills.

The muse kicked it at me as a question and; from there it’s just drawing the parallels in a way Tony would see, and then tossing it back to the muse at the table or in the car and going: ‘Okay man, now show us how this scene works with this mentality, and how it affects what you’re doing, what’s going on, how you feel about it, and where you’re going.’

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alchemist-shizun · 5 years ago

Text

So close feels so afar

Inspired by this post by @draw-your-perfect-world

Word Count: 2,777

Taglist: @ragingdumpsterfiremess

Characters: Roman, Deceit, Remus, Patton (briefly), Logan (briefly), Thomas (briefly) and Virgil

Pairing(s): Let’s say if you squint in one way it could be Roceit, if you squint in another way it could be Prinxiety, but it can all be interpreted as platonic

Warning(s): (Characters are all sympathetic), negative thinking, self-deprecation, self-doubt, swearing (once)

Summary: Thomas is having trouble with his content, it’s gone on for so long that the sides themselves are starting to overwork so much they get overly stressed. Roman has a thought. A bad myriad of thoughts.

A/N: Before you read, let me warn you that this is written in second person from Roman’s point of view. Soooo, two angsty Roman fics in a row huh? I feel the need to write one in which he only gets all the cuddles and gets appreciated aah pardon me for breaking your hearts, but the opportunity was too good to be passed up. Hope you enjoy!

✾

❝ My heart is twisted, heavy, wrong.It's like it knows I don't belong.

The world is big, lovely to be.And yet, there is no place for me. ❞

It wasn't the first time for you, was it?

« I don't know, guys ... I think we should just discard this whole video. »

The heavy feeling on your chest as you realized that, in the long run, your contribution didn't matter anyway, that your motivation was starting to fade away, letting the hopelessness take its place instead.

That everything you did or tried to do didn't matter or was useless, in any case.

You tried to speak, and god all those eyes on you, the attention you once sought now felt like the unbearable weight of a thousand people's judgment. You felt uneasy in front of the four people you knew and that knew you best.

When Thomas sighed and looked away, no longer paying attention to your words, you began to stagger as you tried to rescue the pieces of your confidence that had started to inevitably break and fall into the pit of your chest, pushing and pulling you towards the heavy void.

Your voice died down and your argument lost its meaning along with its importance.

« Great. This was a complete and utter failure. » Logan sank down faster than any other day. You wondered what had happened to his problem-solving nature and his constant willingness to help in critic situations.

You believed he was ... better at this than you. In fact, you had no idea why you even bothered to give your own input on the topic.

Well, there was always this urge to prove yourself in the eyes of Thomas you'd been having for quite a while, maybe even too long, so much that you grew accustomed to it.

Maybe the problem with that was that, unlike Logan, you felt. You thought that was what was wrong with you all along.

Sure, Patton felt too, but he had dealt with that for such a long time that he knew how to handle it and how to still be reasonable through his thinking process.

Virgil, despite having to manage some of the worst feelings, was also cautious thanks to them, analyzing every possible outcome.

And you? You had your passion. Sure, that was a big part for Thomas's interests, but beyond that?

You felt.

You felt ... like something wasn't right.

Because when Logan disappeared, leaving a somewhat irritated expression as the last image of him, you blamed yourself.

When Virgil shrank in his hoodie and shook his head before sinking down, you blamed yourself.

And when Patton excused himself with a pained look on his face, you blamed yourself yet again.

You grimaced and ignored the knot forming in your throat.

« I'm sorry. » an apology that felt as useful as your ability to solve the situation that same day.

The blaming didn't stop when you sank down before you could hear Thomas's response.

Did you even want to hear it?

You traced the little drawings you had carved on your door years earlier, refusing to get into a room that seemed so foreign; did "Creativity" even fit you anymore? You couldn't remember the last time someone didn't shoot down one of your unreachable ideas.

Like a thunder in the middle of a quiet evening, a memory appeared on your mind and flashed before your eyes: it had happened little after Virgil had fully joined your part of the mindscape. You had agreed that, in any circumstance and for any issue, you would've been there for each other. Always.

You went to Logan first: as we already mentioned before, problem-solving, right? Wrong. Or, at least, in that particular moment.

You were met with a terribly stressed logical side, that you were pretty sure was trying very hard to keep the "logical" part as he paced around his room almost literally shaking with nervousness.

« Not a good time, Roman. » was all you heard when you opened his door with caution. Before you could justify your visit, he excused himself and went back to look like the same messy state his room was in.

Patton was your second choice, but how much of an appropriate idea could it possibly be, when you saw him lying on his bed feeling even worse than you? Your selfless nature rushed over your body and you ended up comforting him instead of trying to open up on your own feelings.

Why did it always have to end up like this? Why couldn't you just talk for once? Patton would have returned all the favors you gave him, you were sure, then why was it so difficult to admit you felt sick of yourself?

You closed the door of his room behind yourself, your heartbeat increasing. You were almost there. But you just couldn't find it in yourself to worsen Patton's already precarious condition with useless musings that would have only broken his heart.

No, you were completely wrong. There was nothing to be concerned about, the only problem was Thomas's enormous lack of content and you had to shove away whatever problem you had.

Now didn't that feel absolutely horrible to think that, Roman? There was no escaping it.

While trying to understand why you were doing this to yourself, you came across Virgil's door.

Your hand hovered over the handle. One twist and it would've been it.

You backed away and decided against it. If Logan and Patton were already feeling horrendous, who knows what you might have encountered.

You looked to your left and your eyes met the dark sides' rooms.

And you wondered, just for a split second, you reflected on that thing. Something you were so afraid to name but that came into your mind so often you almost believed it.

It had started in the imagination, when Remus playfully once insulted you and you hadn't found the will to deny anything.

Then, while by yourself, you started being more critical of your own ideas and works, you sat for hours with a blank stare coming up with nothing but blatant banalities.

Eventually, you slipped up. That one game night, when you agreed when someone called you an idiot. You knew they didn't mean it, but you still felt like you needed to point out that yes, you thought that too, deeply and every single painful moment of your existence.

It was the way Virgil called that.

Self-deprecating.

He said it was his job and Patton insisted both of you should have stopped saying terrible things about yourselves.

Neither of you did.

That term stuck with you and you weren't able not to wonder if perhaps there was a possibility you could identify with it.

And when the other came, right then, with you staring at the dark sides aisle, that feeling of wrongness increased to the point you couldn't bear staying in the "light" sides corridor anymore.

In a matter of seconds you rushed over to the door of their common room.

When he opened up, expression neutral but just that slight bit surprised, Deceit raised his eyebrows. « Well? »

« Self-doubt. » there it was.

« What? »

« There's been a mistake. » you tried again, you couldn't follow your breathing pace anymore. « We need to switch places. »

« Switch- I'm not following you. »

« I am self-doubt.»

« Huh? »

« You're self preservance. »

« I'm flattered and all by this enchanting game of words, but I really think you should get some rest. Did Remus hit your head again? I told him to refrain from that. »

You shook your head visibly and a heavy sensation rose in your chest. Your shaky hands gently pushed him back and you let yourself into the room. « You don't understand. »

Your eyes searched for one thing only. One person only.

Remus had propped himself up on his elbows, previously lying on the couch in the, you believed, most normal position you had ever seen him.

You approached him, all the eyes were on you just like moments before, and you were sure you were also metaphorically reconnecting with his dark nature. Or was it really dark? Didn't you make that up?

While Remus's face showed veiled concern, you sat on the floor in front of the armrest. He sat up and looked down on your bleak self, an eyebrow slightly raised.

With your chin buried in your crossed arms on the armrest, you felt the urge to break down to anyone that would just finally, finally and simply listen.

And you didn't even know where to start.

« You were right. » Deceit cautiously came close as you spoke. You noticed him, with the corner of your eye, take a seat on a chair next to you, leaning toward the scene. « I'm just like you. Not worlds apart, nowhere on opposite spectrums. »

Remus shook his head. « What are you talking about? » he whispered, more like a reprimand than a question.

You couldn't help but insist, your eyes started to burn and you realized you were blinking back tears. « You know what I mean. »

Oh, but when did anyone, actually? So gone and lost, so miserable you refrained from ever believing in the others' understanding.

« It just took me longer to come to terms with it. Too long. And now I've messed it up because it's too late to fix this, to fix me. »

« Ro- »

« No! » you buried your face in your arms, nose pressing on soft material. Deep inside, you knew you did that only to suppress the fact that you were on the verge of crying, of showing yourself weak and incapable to get back up on your own. « I am not Creativity! » but you knew hiding it didn't have a meaning anymore.

Your head shot back up and you stared at your brother with a tear-stained face. « You are. More than me. »

« You're saying I should replace you? » Remus's voice sounded offended. No, almost ... hurt.

You nodded, holding your breath to refrain the flood of seemingly nonsensical words from flowing out of your mouth. Or, at least, you tried to do that.

« It's that- » you shuddered. « I haven't been productive in forever, and you're always here having different ideas every single day. »

« My ideas are- »

« It's obvious you're better at this than I am. » you looked down and allowed one terrible thought in your mind. You believed, clouded by your own insecurities, that maybe he should have taken your place. « I should just stay here with you. »

« Don't say that. » Remus got up, his voice a mixture of mortification and annoyance. As he made his way to his room, you couldn't have known how the thought actually completed his sentence. Don't get my hopes up.

You slumped back from the armrest and lowered your head so that you couldn't notice Deceit finally standing in front of you and offering you a hand to get back on your feet.

You looked up.

« I know everyone tells you to be wary of me, but can you trust me this once at least? »

You took his hand.

In a matter of seconds, both of you were sitting on the couch, trying to sort out the thoughts that were piling up in your head.

« I don't think I belong with them. » Deceit had asked you to give voice to your troubles. « I've been the least useful and now Thomas is barely creating content or having ideas. I should be the confident one, I should be comforting him while all I do is ditch everything that comes to my mind. »

« And how does that make you feel? »

« Worthless. » you immediately blurted out. « Futile. Stupid. A waste of space. » the words kept coming in an overflowing self-deprecating chaos. « And the others see it, too. »

Deceit gave you a questioning look and you immediately felt like you said something wrong. « You haven't confronted them about this? »

« It's unimportant. It's simply a fact. They're all too stressed over the issue Thomas is having. »

« They're? You're not including yourself, why? »

« How can I be stressed over something when I'm doing nothing for it? »

The look came again, but this time you felt like he was trying to scan your soul by solely staring in your eyes. You didn't know how much time had passed before he spoke again, but you could have sworn that, for a moment, nothing else around you existed.

« Roman, have you ever thought that you feeling this way might be the cause of Thomas not being productive? »

This time, the confused expression landed on your face. How could that be? No, definitely not. That was not the case. He probably meant that they should get rid of him since he was causing so much trouble, he-

« You've already seen how our behaviour can affect him drastically. If you feel like that, you might be preventing yourself from using your powers fully, thinking it's useless to even try, and thus you're limiting yourself. »

« ... And in doing so I'm limiting Thomas. »

Deceit nodded with the same energy of a person that finally got their point across, the relief and satisfaction of someone that was able to make their interlocutor understand an important topic after hundreds of tries at explaining.

« You are a terrible liar, and I can't believe they haven't realized this yet, but I can't also change the fact that you're an astounding actor. » he sighed, but that line left a sad smile on your lips.

« I'm a man of multiple talents. »

« Also, you don't have to belong anywhere, Roman. Having you here, on a rough time for Thomas, though, I don't believe it would be ideal. » his gaze had fallen to the floor before his voice turned lower. « We're all trying to look out for him, you know. »

That was when your look turned softer and you understood. You started wondering things that weren't meant to be brought up just yet, but that might have been troubling him for a while.

As you were looking for the right thing to say, Deceit gestured for you to follow him to the door he then opened as soon as he was close enough. Out of it, the corridor to the others' and your own rooms.

« Go and tell them. You might spare us some more agonizing days before they figure it out on their own. »

One step out of the room, and you didn't even get the chance to thank him. The door closed behind yourself so quickly you almost believed you had dreamt the entire conversation.

With no time to process it all at once, another figure poke out of a door and pulled you into yet another dialogue.

« Ro? » Virgil rubbed at his eyes sleepily. « What are you doing over there? » there was no accusing undertone, just genuine curiosity. Then again, it might have been the sleepiness, you told yourself.

You approached him. « Just venting. »

« To Deceit? » still no complaining.

« He seemed to be the only one available. »

Virgil nodded, then you could have sworn you had seen a faint nostalgic smile curve his lips. « Good choice. »

« Huh- »

« Why didn't you come to me, again? »

« You were sleeping. »

His mouth, this time, twisted into something more somber. « Roman,» he called, lifting up his gaze. « When I said you could come to me when you needed it, I meant I could make an exception on executing you if you were to wake me up. »

And you didn't know if it was for Deceit's comfort earlier, for Virgil's softer voice or for the general hopefulness you finally regained after seeing a flicker of light coming from the end of the tunnel of your insecurities, but you found yourself with your arms wrapped around his chest.

« Oof- alright. » he patted your shoulders a couple of times. « Come on, big guy, let's get the others. I woke up from a three-hour nap and apparently all my problems haven't been solved by some kind of deity yet, so I think we deserve a fucking break. »

You allowed yourself to smile and, this time, you meant it.

« We truly do. »

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alchemic-elric · 5 years ago

Text

songs to write my muse !!

whether it be melodies that give you inspiration for your muse or songs that get you into the writing mood — pick 10 songs you find to give you the urge, the drive, or the creativity to write for your muse !

Edward has a playlist on Spotify. You can find it here.

RED - Unstoppable

Break down, only alone I will cry out now You'll never see what's hiding out Hiding out deep down (yeah)

I know, I've heard that to let your feelings show Is the only way to make friendships grow But I'm too afraid now (yeah)

I'll put my armor on Show you how strong I am I'll put my armor on I'll show you that I am

I'm unstoppable I'm running with no brakes I'm invincible Yeah, I win every single game I'm so powerful I don't need batteries to play I'm so confident, yeah, I'm unstoppable today Unstoppable today, unstoppable today I'm unstoppable today, I'm unstoppable today Unstoppable today, unstoppable today I'm unstoppable today, I'm unstoppable today

NateWantsToBattle:- The Wrecked And The Worried

One time for the saints and the sinners You know you gotta put it down like a winner Chances taken, smile 'til you fake it

My mind's running all the time And I don't really like anything I find Got time? 'Cause I'm out of mine Had my ducks in a row, now they're slowly falling out of line

All day talking to myself And I found that I don't really know me well Flip through try to find a spell Now we're stated, overrated Now we're spawning from a special kind of hell

One time for the saints and the sinners You know you gotta put it down like a winner Chances taken, smile 'til you fake it None of this seems right Two times for the wrecked and the worried Your tainted mind will be your judge and your jury Chances taken, smile 'til you fake it Sick of it yet, I keep coming back Oh, but I keep coming back

Five Finger Death Punch - Wrong Side of heaven

I spoke to God today and she said that she's ashamed What have I become What have I done I spoke to the devil today and he swears he's not to blame And I understood 'cause I feel the same

Arms wide open I stand alone I'm no hero and I'm not made of stone Right or wrong I can hardly tell I'm on the wrong side of heaven and the righteous side of hell The wrong side of heaven and the righteous side The righteous side of hell

Bastille - Icarus

Standing on the cliff face Highest foe you'll ever grace It scares me half to death

Look out to the future But it tells you nothing So take another breath

Your hands protect the flames From the wild winds around you

Icarus is flying too close to the sun And Icarus's life, it has only just begun This is how it feels to take a fall Icarus is flying towards an early grave

You put up your defenses when you leave You leave because you're certain Of who you want to be

PVRIS - What's Wrong

When did I get so pitiful Just a goddamn corpse in a centerfold You got my back against the wall And now I can't ever get comfortable No I never sold my soul If I ever do throw my bones to the wolves No I never sold my soul No I never sold mine

I know it's so wrong but I'm so far gone Don't need you to tell me I'm so cynical Quit being so over-skeptical Don't need a metaphor for you to know I'm miserable

Starset - Telepathic

And if I had my way I would run to the rescue It never works that way When you call a bluff

Oh, all the fools rush in It’s a battle to surround you And all the fools want in But I’m not giving up

Imagine Dragons - Bleeding Out

When the day has come But I've lost my way around And the seasons stop and hide beneath the ground When the sky turns gray And everything is screaming I will reach inside Just to find my heart is beating

You tell me to hold on Oh you tell me to hold on But innocence is gone And what was right is wrong'

Cause I'm bleeding out Said if the last thing that I do Is to bring you down I'll bleed out for you So I bear my skin And I count my sins And I close my eyes And I take it in And I'm bleeding out I'm bleeding out for you (for you)

Three Days Grace - Nothing to lose but You

I stay up every night I should've thought twice when I put our lives on the line I'm a mess You're the only hope that I hold inside The self-destruction, the damage I've done You're the reason I'm still alive

And I lose it everyday inside of my head I don't know if I'll be alright I wanna leave it all behind I've got nothing to lose

I've got nothing to lose but you Nothing to lose but you I know that I can't undo The self-destruction, the damage I've done I've got nothing to lose but you

3 Doors Down - The Silence Remains

This is from both brother’s POV

Edward to Alphonse:

This world asks for so much Despite what you give it’s just never enough Then you’re left cold tired and alone Searching for something that’s already gone You try not to be afraid Bound down by all of these things that they say And you feel like you’re all by yourself But I’ll be right here when there’s nothing else

Chorus: (Both)

Lay down Rest here in peace in my arms now Knowing you’re safe From the storms and the rain And from all of your pain And I’ll be here when only the silence remains Only the silence remains

Alphonse to Edward:

Your fears they know that you’re scared Wherever you go they seem to meet you there And you face them all on your own Never the weak always the strong And you win most of the time Never once claiming that victory’s mine And you carry this burden alone But this candle’s burned at both ends for so long

Chorus (Both)

Five Finger Death Punch - A Little Bit Off

I'm a little pissed off today and there ain't nothing you can do about it I'm a little put off today and I could not tell you why Got a really short fuse today, everyone around me's fucking crazy I'm a little ticked off today, a little pissed off today (I'm a little bit off today) I told a little white lie today, I smiled and told someone I loved them I had to say goodbye today to someone that I love I couldn't even cry today, I think my heart is finally broken Didn't need a reason why today, I don't need a reason why today

Hey yeah, hey yeah Hey yeah, don't ya know? (I'm a little bit off) Hey yeah, hey yeah Hey, you gotta let it go (I'm a little, just a little bit off)

tagged by Stolen from: @dolcetters because I breathe muse music check out my tag tagging: this can turn into a mess so whoever wants to tackle it can do it and tag me so I can see your jams! muse music is so fun to me!

#muse music #about the muse #i have so many more songs than this one #Ed's playlist is 55 songs long and growing #i had to play pick and choose #but i adore muse music so i felt personally required to do this

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choupetit · 6 years ago

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GOT Recap: A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

Airdate: 4/21/19 ; Season 8, Episode 2

Meep, things are really heating up on Game of Thrones! Or rather, cooling down…oh heck, I don’t know what to do with all the Fire and Ice metaphors. Let’s just say, stuff is getting real and the latest installment of GOT gave us one last moment to enjoy the fuzzy warm feels before next week’s huge battle against the Night King’s army begins. This last episode was all about wish fulfillment and tying up loose ends for viewers – and I’m still a bit conflicted about how I feel about it all. But fear not, we’ll get into my two cents about it very soon. Now, find a warm body to snuggle up to and get a toasty fire going, because the night is dark and full of manipulative story ploys. Here’s my recap of: “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms.”

I Know What You Did Last Long Summer

We start things off with Jaime Lannister standing before a tribunal in the Great Hall at Winterfell, with Sansa Stark, Daenerys Targaryen, and Jon Snow seated at the VIP table. Dany shares that she and her brother grew up talking about what they would do to the man who murdered their father, once they captured him and reclaimed the Seven Kingdoms. She points out that Cersei promised her an army, and instead has only sent one man with one hand. Ouch, that smarts. Jaime fills everybody in on Cersei’s plan: She isn’t sending any help. Rather, Queen Cersei has procured a hired army and is sending them to Winterfell to finish off whatever survivors are left after the impending war against the Dead. She lied to them all – Jaime included – and he left her to come and join Jon and Dany’s battle for the living. Daenerys casts a pointed gaze at Tyrion Lannister, who looks miserable. Ya done messed up, Ty!

Dany wonders how they can possibly trust Jaime. Tyrion sticks up for his brother, but is shot down by Daenerys who counters that perhaps this is an elaborate scheme for Jaime to assassinate her. Sansa chimes in that Jamie can’t be trusted, and lists the crappy things he did to House Stark, including attacking Ned Stark back in Season 1. When Jaime defends his actions saying it was during a time of war, and that he was protecting his family, Bran dryly states “The things we do for love.” Fear flickers in Jaime’s eyes. Bran knows!

Brienne of Tarth steps up and defends Jaime. She tells Dany how she and Jaime were captured a few years back and he defended her when she was this close to getting raped – and lost his hand in the process. To Sansa, she says that it’s only due to Jaime’s honor in keeping his word to Catelyn Stark that Brienne was able to find and save Sansa from the sadistic Ramsay Bolton. This is enough to change Sansa’s mind. Dany seems peeved by Sansa’s about-face and asks Jon what he thinks. Visibly still grappling with the bombshell about his parents, Jon doesn’t even look at Dany and simply states they need all the extra help they can get. Dany allows Jaime to stay and fight with them, and they all rise. Sansa huffs off and when Dany turns to Jon, he’s all “K gotta run, byeeee.” Ugh, you let a guy ride your dragon one time and then he gets all weird on you. Brienne shoots Jaime a look that clearly states “Don’t make me regret sticking my neck out for you,” and Bran just stares at him. Again. Creepily.

Rebuffed by her lover, and fuming about Cersei’s deceipt, Dany is ripe to start throwing cell phones at her assistants. She chews out Tyrion for being either in cahoots with Cersei, or a damn fool. When Tyrion tells her it’s the latter, she retorts “It’s not the first time,” and indicates his time may be up serving as Hand of the Queen. Varys and Ser Jorah are all “Awwwwkward.”

Number 1 Crush

At the Winterfell forge, we see Gendry’s handiwork: Tons and tons of spearheads and other weapons made of dragonglass are ready to be wielded. As Gendry works, Arya approaches and takes in all his hunky, sweaty manliness, then asks him about the weapon she requested. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that after I make a few thousand more of these. Shouldn’t you be hanging out in the crypts anyway when the fighting begins? It’s the safest place to be.” Arya questions why he thinks he’s qualified to fight – he’s just a blacksmith. When he tells her he killed a few of the Dead and she wants to know what they’re like, his reply is “Really bad”. “How bad are we talking, dude? What do they look like? How do they smell? When they change a toilet paper roll, do they do it the wrong way or the right way – and don’t you DARE say there isn’t a right way, Gendry!!” “Ok, fine, they’re like death, ok?” “Oh, cool, I know all about death!” Arya gives Gendry an impressive demo of her razor sharp knife throwing skills – it’s instant bonerville for Gendry. “So…how about that weapon?” – “Yes, ma’am, coming right up!!” Ok, these two flirting is just too much. Arya is such a badass, I love it! And she deserves a little joy in her life.

Meanwhile, a very remorseful Jaime seeks out Bran by the Weirwood tree and apologizes for pushing him out the tower window all those years ago, rendering him a paraplegic. Jaime questions why Bran didn’t tell the others about this, and Bran tells him he can’t be much use in their fight if Bran lets his family murder Jaime. “But aren’t you mad at me?” Let’s just break this down for you, dude: Bran ain’t mad at anybody. He is so beyond all those petty human emotions, because OMG you guys are all about to be annihilated by ruthless ice zombies and Bran is trying to figure out how to stop it. “Ok, so what happens after?” asks Jaime. Bran counters, “What makes you think there is an after?”

Oooh sidebar! Y’all I have been knee deep in GOT theories the past few weeks, and one of the theories I’m really into says that Jaime might be Azor Ahai (the Prince who was Promised) and plays a huge role in defeating the Night King. There’s this whole prophecy about it in the books, and the High Valyerian words for “Gold” and “Hand” are very similar to the words “Lord” and “Light”. After this chat with Bran, I’m convinced Jaime is a key player in ending the Night King’s reign.

Later, Tyrion and Jaime walk around the courtyard, discussing the two queens. Tyrion says how he truly believes Daenerys will be a great queen for the realm, and the two commiserate over how Cersei fooled them – the part about being pregnant is true, though. Tyrion notes that Jaime has never been fooled by Cersei, he’s always loved her in spite of her miserable character. When Tyrion remarks that they are likely going to die at Winterfell, he muses that at least Cersei won’t have the satisfaction of killing him. Hey, maybe his dead corpse will go down to King’s Landing and tear her apart - but Jaime isn’t listening. He is distracted by something else – or rather someone:

Brienne of Tarth, is on the practice field, watching Podrick as he spars with another fighter. Jaime shows up and chats with her about the impending battle. Brienne is weirded out by how nice Jaime is acting, because he’s always shown his snarky side around her in the past. He tells her he returned to Winterfell because we wants to serve under her command. She excuses herself. Oh man! Brienne has been holding a torch for Jaime for so many seasons and he is finally sorta living up to the person she has seen in him all along: a good and honorable guy. And he came to Winterfell to fight alongside her? Hubba hubba. And yet…I don’t see anything romantic ever happening between these two, even though there is something there. It just feels like he’s the super popular dude who’s had a lot of personal growth and really likes her and cares for her, but will never actually date her because she isn’t a supermodel. Ya know what I mean? Brienne is in the friend zone 4eva. Also, I think this whole exchange means Brienne ain’t long for this world – she’s probably going to sacrifice herself to save Jaime during the battle. Sorry, Bri Bri! We love you, though!

A Matter of Trust

In Daenerys’s quarters, Ser Jorah takes a moment to tell her to take it easy on Tyrion. He knows his Khaleesi is super pissed, but he advises her to see past Tyrion’s flub and keep him on as Hand of the Queen because he has a super big brain. Coming from Jorah, this means a lot. Then he offers another suggestion: Make more of an effort with Sansa Stark.

In the great hall, Dany requests a heart to heart with Sansa Stark who also puts in a good word for Tyrion when Daenerys makes a snarky remark about not having faith in her advisors. Geez Louise, everybody is sticking up for Tyrion in this episode! The conversation turns to Dany drawing comparisons between herself and Sansa as female leaders in a man’s world and then she’s all “Girls rule, yay!!! So...why don’t you like me?” - “Honestly? Because guys can do pretty dumb stuff for women and they’re easily manipulated. And you basically convinced Jon to give up his crown for you” Dany’s all: “Ok, so, real talk? I was all about taking the Iron Throne, and then Jon pops up and tells me about these weird Snow Zombies coming to destroy us all, and I dropped everything to help him fight his war, so…who is being manipulated?” [Personally, I think that’s a lame argument, because obviously the survival of mankind is still totally in your interest, Daenerys, because if they are all dead you don’t have anybody to rule, m’kay?] Sansa warms a bit to Dany, and tells her she should have thanked her when she arrived. But just as Daenerys is cozying up to Sansa and holding her hands, Sansa takes things right back to business – God, I love her for it: “So, Dany, riddle me this: Let’s say we defeat the Night King and Cersei. What happens next?” Dany’s face is a little perplexed “Um, I rule on the Iron Throne. Obviously.” –“Yeah, but what about the North? We took back our land and we swore we’d never give it back, so…what about the North?” This does not make Dany happy, and she looks about ready to lose it.

Thankfully, however, their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of: Theon Greyjoy and his men. He fills them in on the successful rescue of Yara, and informs Queen Daenerys that Yara is reclaiming the Iron Isles for Dany. He returned to fight for Winterfell – if they’ll have him. Sansa’s eyes fill with tears and she rushes to embrace Theon. It’s a very sweet moment but also, I’m immediately worried that the writers are going to try and make something romantic happen here. Ew, not Theon. I’m just going to chalk this up to him and Sansa sharing a strong mutual survivor bond. Also, my death prediction: Theon is sooo gonna die. And they've been making Daenerys super unlikeable these past two episodes that it has me a little nervous they might off her, too.

In the courtyard, Davos is running a soup kitchen and gives a short pep talk to some of the men who have arrived. Gilly is telling some girls how safe the crypts are – the safest place at Winterfell, actually. You guys, make sure you write this down: The crypts - where they keep all the dead bodies which have not been burned - are the safest place in Winterfell. So if you have zero fighting skills, you really totally without a doubt need to head to the crypts where no dead bodies will suddenly come to life and attack you because the crypts are S-A-F-E, you got it?

A little girl asks where she should go when the battle starts because she wants to fight, too. Gilly advises her to go to…you got it. The crypts. Le sigh.

A horn blows and Jon turns the corner to see who it is: The Night’s Watch from Castle Black have arrived and as he goes to bro hug Dolorous Edd, he’s tackled by Thormund Giantsbane like an overjoyed Saint Bernard pup. Beric Dondarrion is there, too. Yay, Jon’s happy to see them all and probably is even happier that he has more legit reasons to avoid Daenerys. His friends inform him they met up at the Last Hearth - everybody was dead and gone. It’s safe to assume anybody who hasn’t made it to Winterfell by now has been claimed by the Night King’s army. Jon asks how long until the Dead will arrive and Thormund replies: Just before sunrise. Also, Thormund would really like to know where Brienne is. Oh me, oh my – will my Brienne, Jaime, Thormund troika dreams come true? Unlikely, but I do love Thormund’s interest in Brienne, if only for the comic relief it provides.

In the war room, all the important peeps have gathered to talk strategy. The Night King’s army is too big, and they never tire, so Jon & Co. won’t be able to beat them in a straight fight. Their best chance at survival is to kill the Night King – if they kill him, they kill his army. But how? If he’s that important, the Night King won’t risk exposing himself – when they say this, I just imagine the Night King in a long trench coat. Yeah, I’m mature. Bran volunteers to be human bait, because the Night King is after him. But why, Bran, why? We discover that the Night King’s ultimate goal is an endless night and he wants to wipe out all trace of men and their memories. Bran is basically a human hard drive with the entire history of their world and the Night King wants to erase it all. I don’t know…it’s kind of a weird reason to me. I mean, if the Night King is gonna kill everybody anyway, why is it so important that he kill Bran first? Sam waxes poetic about death and how when we die our memories are forgotten and we are forgotten, blah, blah, blah, but I still don’t get it. What is the difference between wiping out all of mankind’s history and killing everybody vs. just wiping out mankind? Wouldn’t wiping out mankind just, like...wipe out mankind and its history? I don’t know folks. Clue me in if you understand. Or is it just a matter of getting rid of any evidence on how to stop the Night King? In that case, just say so, Bran.

Anyhoo, Bran will wait for the Night King in the Godswood – he has a GPS tracking device on him, so the Night King always knows where he is. His siblings are vehemently against it, but Theon volunteers to be there with his guys to help protect Bran. Why do we think this is a better idea than Bran’s own family protecting him? I mean, other than simply using this as a plot device for Theon to die while defending Bran and thus somehow redeem himself for all the shitty stuff he did to the Stark kids when they were younger? Obviously, I’m not a big fan of this scene.

Dany tells Tyrion he’ll have to wait in the crypts during the battle because: a) they are super safe and b) Dany needs his mind because her faith in him has been restored. Yeah, after hearing what everybody told her so far, she also polled 28 whores about his character and realized she shouldn’t fire him after all because he’s a good dude and actually really smart. Except for when it comes to trusting his evil sister, whose superpower is stabbing people in the back, who has always hated him, and has never done anything in her life to prove herself trustworthy in his eyes.

Oh, and one more thing: They’ll need to have the dragons close by to save Bran if things go bad. Not too close to give anything away. Just close enough to probably be completely useless and get one more dragon killed. M’kay? Sounds like a plan, team!

As they wrap things up, Thormund points out the silver lining: They are all going to die, but at least they’ll die together. He flashes a winning look at Brienne. Jon hastily leaves, expertly avoiding Dany once again, and everybody except Bran and Tyrion exits the room. Tyrion tells Bran he wants to hear all about his stories and they both settle in next to the fire.

One Last Waltz

And now…get ready for the showrunners to check off all your hopes and dreams for all your favorite characters so you can have one final lovely memory of them all alive before everything goes to hell:

In the courtyard, Grew Worm and Missandei share a special moment where they make plans for the future. Once Grey Worm has finished securing the throne for Daenerys, he’s gonna retire with Missandei and she can visit her home again. And he’ll keep her and her peeps safe with his Unsullied pals as they live happily ever after. So…he’s gonna die, right?

On the ramparts, Jon and Sam hang together with Ghost nearby. Yay, finally we see a direwolf again! Sam asks Jon when he is going to fill Daenerys in on the revelation of Jon’s true parents. Edd arrives and declares “And now our watch begins.” Gilly and little Sam will be in the crypts (wanna know why?) and Jon tells Sam he can go, too – to protect them – but Sam scoffs and asks his buds to give him some credit. He was, after all the first of them to kill a white walker and discover other ways to defeat the Dead. They take a moment to remember their fallen friends from the Night’s Watch and Edd grimly states “Last man left, burn the rest of us.”

In the Great Hall, Tyrion and Jaime sit by the fire and enjoy a cup of wine as they ponder how much they’ve changed since their last visit to Winterfell and Tyrion bemoans the perils of self betterment – gone are his days of excessive drinking and whoreing.

Brienne and Podrick arrive in the great hall – oh hai, guys! They were looking for a place to warm up, and Jaime insists that they join him and his bro. Brienne agrees – obviously. Is she going to pass up the chance to be with her hunky unrequited love? Never. Oh, and would you look at that! Davos and Thormund pop in as well to join some theater in the round. Thormund regales them with a hilarious story of how he got the “Giantsbane” moniker. Truly, he is the shining star in this episode and certainly in this scene. I’m feeling extra manipulated by the show – now that we’re more emotionally invested in him, I’m 100% sure that he’ll be killed off next week.

Up on the ramparts, Arya sees the Hound and sits next to him. They have a nice moment when she questions why he’s even here fighting with everybody. “When is the last time you fought for anybody?”, she asks. He replies gruffly, “I fought for you, didn’t I?” And that is the line that wins the night. Awwwww, I love the Hound. Then Beric Dondarrion shows up and ruins the moment. He apologizes to Arya for the way they parted the last time they saw each other – ya know, when he sold out Gendry to Melisandre to do her voodoo magic. When he starts talking about the Lord of Light, the Hound tells him to shut his trap and Arya is all “Peace out, I’m gonna find something better to do than spend my final hours with you old farts.”

Next, Arya whiles away the time with some archery practice when Gendry arrives with the weapon he’s fashioned for her. It’s a spear and she gives it a whirl – not bad at all. As she shows off her fancy spear twirling skills, Arya asks Gendry what Melisandre did to him after she took him, and he tells her about the blood magic. She assumes (correctly) that Melisandre had sex with Gendry and suddenly Arya is grilling Gendry about all his past partners, presumably calculating her risk of contracting syphilis. Apparently, Gendry’s number of former lovers is satisfactory and Arya reveals that if she’s going to die in the battle against the dead, she wants to at least know what sex feels like and they get. It. On. Oh my stars!! I’m equal parts stoked that Arya and Gendry hooked up, and also intensely worried now that one of them will die – maybe even both of them. Gah! I wish I wasn’t so traumatized by GOT to assume that any time a good moment happens, it will be yanked away, but such is the life of the Game of Thrones fan: We can’t have nice things.

Call Me By Your Name

Back in the Great Hall, Tyrion remarks how all of the people in the room had at one point fought the Starks in one way or another, and now they are united in fighting together at Winterfell. As Tyrion gives them all a verbal pat on the back for surviving so many battles, he accidentally calls Brienne “Ser” and corrects himself. Thormund is confused that Brienne isn’t a knight, and she tells him women can’t be knights because sexist traditions are alive and well in Westeros. When Thormund tells her he’d make her a knight if he were king, Jaime points out that you don’t need a king to be knighted – another knight can do it. And so, with a little coaxing everybody encourages Brienne to get knighted. She’s always wanted to be a knight and she accepts the honor with all the grace and reverence it warrants. Ser Jaime Lannister taps her shoulders with his sword, reciting the words and at last proclaims her a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. As the men in the room start a slow clap and cheer for her, Ser Brienne of Tarth rises with tears in her eyes and a luminous smile. Oh God, she’s toast now!!!!

In the courtyard, Ser Jorah Mormont and his little cuz Lyanna Mormont argue. He thinks she should go to the crypts –I really don’t want to say this, but I must…because they are the safest place to be—and Lyanna insists that she vowed to fight, and that’s precisely what she’ll do. She wishes him well just as Samwell Tarly shows up. He presents his family’s sword to Ser Jorah. It’s called Heartsbane and it’s made of Valyrian steel. The sword is too heavy for Sam to wield himself. He shares that Lord Commander Mormont – Jorah’s father – was a wonderful mentor who taught Sam to always do what’s right, and Sam would be honored for Jorah to have it. Ser Jorah accepts the weapon, and then Sam has to go and say something like: “I’ll see you when the battle’s through.” F#$K!!!! So now Jorah’s gonna die?! I can’t take it, you guys!

Aaaand we’re back at the Great Hall, where the wine has run out and the karaoke portion of the night has begun. Podrick, it turns out, has the voice of an angel and treats the group to a lovely and haunting melody. It’s a perfect tune for a montage scene and we get one last glimpse of all the characters we’ve come to love as they have one last tender and bittersweet moment of togetherness.

In the ever-so-safe crypts, Jon stands at Lyanna’s coffin and statue, and Daenerys approaches. She asks who the statue is of, and Jon simply says “Lyanna Stark.” Dany knows the story of Lyanna’s abduction – she tells Jon that she grew up hearing such good things about her brother Rhaegar, who was known to be kind and decent, and yet, he raped Lyanna. Jon corrects her “Oh, but he didn’t,” and all the details spill out. Dany is shook by the revelation that Jon is actually Rhaegar’s legitimate son and asks how he knows this – she is not impressed by Jon’s sources and points out how convenient it is that his brother and best friend are the only people who can corroborate the story. Her thoughts immediately go to the Iron Throne and the fact that Jon would have a better claim to it, if what he says is true. Before they can go into things further, a horn sounds: The Dead are here. Jon and Dany give each other a look of agreement and both storm off – presumably to ride some dragons.

In the dark, a horse’s hoof stops in the snow and as the camera pans up, it reveals the Night King’s lieutenants all lined up in formation, ready for the attack, their gaze fixed upon Winterfell in the near distance. Roll credits.

Holy moly so many people are gonna die next week, and I am losing my mind over here! This episode was a lot of things, and while I feel like I got all the moments I technically wanted, I also feel weirdly placated by the writers for actually giving those moments to us viewers. I’m not sure how true some of the actions were to the characters, and it seemed more like the last 20 minutes were purely catering to the audience’s wishes before the showrunners kill off all the people they shone a spotlight on in this episode. It’s hard to truly enjoy something when you feel like you’re being set up for a fall, ya know? But overall, it was a fine episode to set up the epic battle next week.

The takeaways for me were: Jaime has an important role to play in ending the long night. Dany’s whole worldview is going to have to be reconsidered unless of course she (or Jon) dies, making the whole “Who deserves the crown more?” a moot point. Maybe she’ll even screw Jon over? Tyrion will likely survive and I’m wondering if Bran shared something important with him during their chat. That way, if Bran should perish, Tyrion will have some trump card of knowledge to share with the others. Arya is probably toast – if not, then Gendry is. Brienne will die – for SURE! Oh, and the crypts are the least safe place to be and some freaky deaky stuff is gonna happen down there next episode.

I would like to point out that we didn’t actually see the Night King standing outside Winterfell with his homies. Like I mentioned earlier, I am reading so many different theories and one is that the Night King is splitting up his army, and he is heading straight to King’s Landing with his ice dragon to torch the city and turn its 1 million inhabitants into an army that nobody can match.

Will all my death predictions come true? Will the Night King fool us all and fly to Essos to kill the fire priestesses? Or will Melisandre suddenly pop up at the 11th hour to save the day? Are there any other important theories I have yet to discover? I’m sure by next week we’ll know a lot more, and also be bawling our eyes out as Jaime tenderly holds a dying Brienne in his arms, who it turn holds a dying Thormund in hers. It could happen, you guys. I’ll see ya here next week for a grief group therapy session!

#GOT #Game Of Thrones #GameOfThrones #Seven Kingdoms #Brienne #Lannister #Stark #Targaryen #Season 8 #a knight of the seven kingdoms #Daenerys #Sansa #tyrion #jaime #recap #recaps #GOTrecaps

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