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randomshyperson · 4 years ago

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The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - The Fourth Year (Part II) - Chapter 5

Gif is not mine, blessed are the gif makers.

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Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies.

Chapter Words: 11.433K (they keep getting bigger and bigger don’t they?)

Authors note: I told myself i would only updated this once i finished writing two chapters ahead, but here we are. I hope everyone has a good reading, please let me know what you think and if you have any questions regarding the story i’m as lost as you are but i believe everything will make sense at the end.

//-//-//-//-//

When you woke up in the morning, you were really irritated.

Not having slept very well, both because of the time you went back to bed, and because of the strange dreams with red lights that you kept having, you were really sleepy when you had to get up.

And well, the first class was History of Magic, so the universe was not in your favor.

But you were quite surprised when you reached Professor Okoye's classroom and found a small crowd of students waiting at the door.

"What's going on?" You asked Quill as soon as you identified him in the crowd, Mantis right behind you.

"I don't think we're going to have class today." He replied while looking into the room. You copied his movement, and could see the teacher moving the tables and chairs in the room away to the corner, leaving a nice clear space. When she was finished, she waved for everyone to come in.

You stood with Quill and Mantis and the rest of the students scattered around the room, and the teacher in the center. She closed the door with a wave of her wand as they all entered, a small smile on her lips.

"I have an announcement to make, students." She begins. "According to the traditions of the triwizard tournament, the host school must organize a winter ball during christmas night after the first task." She tells and has to raise her voice a bit because the students start talking to each other excitedly. "And as head of the Gryffindor house, renowned for its chivalry, I was made responsible for organizing dance class sessions." She pauses briefly, looking at the students until they fall silent. "I also expect the Hufflepuff house to behave as respectfully as my Gryffindor students, since the honorable Helga Hufflepuff was known for her great charity balls."

With a wave of Okoye's wand, a cabinet in the corner of the room opens, and out of it flies a small music organ to the corner of the room. When she waves it again, a soft melody fills the entire room.

"Let's begin."

//-//

It is only at lunchtime that you get to talk to Wanda. And your feet still hurt from the times Quill stepped on them during the dance class.

You throw your bag on the Slytherin bench and sit down next to Wanda, looking at her expectantly. The girl makes a confused frown.

"What?" she asks with a slight humor in her voice.

"Really, Wands?" You reply in the same tone. "I want to talk to you."

"About what?"

"The tournament."

Wanda rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to the plate in front of her. You frown at the way she is being casual about it.

"What about the tournament?"

You let out a short laugh.

"What do you mean “what about the tournament”? You're the champion of Hogwarts! The underage champion of Hogwarts!" You clarify, but Wanda doesn't look at you. You blink in confusion, and reach your forearm down on the table, touching her lightly so that she looks at you. Your chest aches as she pulls her arm away. "What's wrong?"

Wanda sighs, running her hands through her hair lightly.

"I just don't want to hear about how I'm an irresponsible cheater or how dangerous the tournament is." She replies looking at you.

"I wasn't going to say that." You retort, and Wanda rolls her eyes, which irritates you. "You haven't even heard what I have to say and you've already drawn your own conclusions."

Wanda clenches her jaw, her cheeks slightly reddened.

"And what do you have to say about it then?"

"I was gonna offer to help you practice for the tasks!" You clarify angrily. And Wanda blinks in confusion. You turn your face forward next, crossing your arms. Arguing with Wanda was absolutely the worst.

It takes a moment, but her posture softens completely and she sighs, reaching out for your arm afterwards.

"Hey." She calls tenderly, but you continue to stare straight ahead. "Hey, I'm sorry. Look at me."

You slowly turn to the side, looking down at your lap. Wanda waits for you to look up, and when you do, she gives you a weak smile.

" I'm sorry." She repeats, and you sigh, nodding. Wanda bites her lip, looking at you for a moment. "I need to tell you something. Is about..."

Wanda falls silent as your friends arrive at the table, commenting excitedly on the news of the dance that has already spread throughout the school. She sighs softly, straightening herself to look forward. You bite the inside of your cheeks, curious to know what she was going to say, but not wanting to press her.

When Nebula and Gamora sit across from you, you strain to pay attention to their conversation.

"But Wanda, tell us, what is it like to be a Hogwarts champion?" Gamora asks after the topic about the ball closes. Wanda tenses momentarily, and you want to ask why Pietro is sitting at the other end of the table with boys you don't know instead of with his sister, but the brunette forces a smile and you don't.

"I don't recommend the experience, if you ask me." She retorted with slight irony in her voice, making the group laugh. "After the selection, the principals of the other schools were not at all happy about my participation." She counters twisting her fingers lightly. "I think they were questioning the security of the Goblet choice. But Principal Harkness stood up for me, in her own way at least. She insisted that nothing could be done, because the magical contract with the goblet can only be broken with the end of the tournament."

"I imagine you had no idea this was all going to happen when you put your name on the goblet, eh?" Nebula asked wryly, making the group laugh. But Wanda frowned.

"I didn't put my name on the goblet." Wanda declared. Her friends gave a short laugh, thinking she was joking. But the other girl's serious expression makes them look at her in surprise.

"Wait, are you serious?" Gamora questions and Wanda nods, sighing. She exchanges shocked looks with Nebula and Mantis. Next, Gamora looks at you. "I guess that goes on your list of weird things this year, huh?"

You shake your head slightly, not wanting the girl in front of you to mention what happened in the cup, but Gamora is already commenting on your nightmares the next moment.

Wanda turns to you next.

"What nightmares?" She questions, and you sigh, losing your appetite. "And why didn't you tell me about what you saw in the cup? And well, if you were worried, you could have asked if everything was okay with me, we've been at Hogwarts for a month now and..."

"Wanda." You interrupt with a short smile. "Calm down, okay? I was just trying to find the right time to talk to you about everything."

"I am calm, I just want to know why you are hiding things from me! " She hits back and you frown in surprise.

"Look who's talking!"

You regret the way you speak, because Wanda gasps in surprise, her gaze hurt. Your friends witness the discussion intently.

"What did you mean by that?" She retorts angrily.

"You know very well what I meant." You reply in the same tone, feeling your stomach turn in nervousness. "You always hide things, whether with your family, or with your magic! And you won't tell me what's going on with us!"

Wanda looks at you in a mixture of surprise, anger and hurt, and you feel your heart racing. Some students are looking at you curiously, but Wanda's lack of response only disappoints you. You cast her an angry glance before getting up and leaving the hall.

//=//

You feel bad that you have accused Wanda the moment you reach your dorm. You don't know if she has the answers you seek. But you are tired, because it seems that everyone is keeping secrets from you.

Throwing yourself down on the sofa, you sigh as you close your eyes. You don't feel like studying right now, but soon you have a Defense Against the Dark Arts period and you need to get up. You don't rush, though, using all the remaining time at lunch to calm yourself, trying to push out the thoughts that you and Wanda would no longer be friends.

Mantis meets you at the door to the communal hall as soon as you leave, and you thank her for bringing your backpack back.

"Are you okay?" She asks as you both walk toward the tower.

"Yeah, it was just a silly argument." You mumble clumsily.

"Wanda was pretty upset after you left." She counters, and you mutter in understanding. "I hope you two can make up soon."

"Me too."

When you arrived at the D.A.D.A. room, few minutes later, you grumbled softly because you could only find chairs in the front, and students who sat near Professor Fury were always called in.

The professor entered soon after, his long black cape dragging across the floor, and the customary eye patch hiding a scar on his face.

"Good afternoon, everyone." He announced loudly as he entered, and waited until everyone was seated to begin. Drawing out his wand, he charmed the chalk on the blackboard to write the subject of the day. Some buzz began to circulate as the words "unforgivable curses" formed on the board. "Who here can tell me what the unforgivable curses are?"

The room was completely silent. Fury walked between the tables.

"No one?" He asked. "How disappointing."

You knew that no one answered the question because it was a huge taboo in the witch community to talk about the dark arts so freely. Professor Fury seemed to know that too, and that only seemed to make him angry.

“Unforgivable curses are three of the most powerful and sinister spells in the world of magic.” Fury explains next. “Their use is forbidden in all magical communities, and if a wizard or witch casts any of them on another wizard or witch, they will receive a sentence in Azkaban.”

Fury made another motion with his wand and the closet at the back of the room opened, a small cage secured in an iron compartment with wheels crawled to the front.

You and the rest of the room let out exclamations of surprise as you observed the creature inside. A large, hairy spider, very scary. Mantis shrank into the chair beside you.

"As an antidote to your ignorance, I recommend that you read the book of this subject before the next class, and bring me two scrolls about the first three chapters, specifying the history of the prohibition of unforgivable curses." Professor Fury then announced, drawing an unsatisfied buzz from the students. The room fell silent the next minute, however, as the professor opened the cage.

The spider moved on the iron, looking practically startled and shrinking into the cage.

"The first unforgivable curse is the command curse." Fury explained, pointing his wand at the bug next. "Imperio."

You and the rest of the students watched in shock as the small crystallized flash came from the tip of the wand to the creature, which stretched its legs and then moved outward. It wasn't hard to deduce that it was Professor Fury who was controlling the spider, since from the movement of his wand, it was moving.

"The Imperium curse consists of absolute control of another living being." Fury told as he moved the spider around the room, drawing exclamations of fear and shock. "You see, during the last witch war, many sorcerers claimed that they were only fighting for Mephisto because of this curse."

The mention of Mephisto made everyone hold their breath, but the professor didn't stop talking.

"The ministry found an efficient way to find out who was lying." He counters with a short smile. Bringing the spider back to the front of the room, to his desk for all to see, he holds it still. "You will find out eventually, children, that moral lines are usually broken during wars."

You exchanged a look with your colleagues, all clearly surprised and frightened. Fury cleared his throat, pointing his wand at the spider.

"Crucio" He spoke and unlike the other, no light came out. The spider cringed, making a high-pitched noise that filled the entire room. You understood that it was screaming in pain, and you felt your stomach clench. Before you knew it, you stood up abruptly, the noise attracting everyone's attention.

"Stop it!" You shouted angrily. "Can't you see you're hurting her?"

The teacher stopped, and you tried to control your uncompensated breathing. He cleared his throat, ignoring the buzz in the room as he extended his hand to the spider, which obediently climbed into his hand.

He turned to you, placing the animal on your desk, and you swallowed dryly, keeping your gaze on the back of the room, knowing exactly what was coming. Professor Fury looked at the creature with contempt.

"The last unforgivable curse is the killing curse." He explains. "Avada Kedavra."

You close your eyes for a moment, feeling your body tremble. When you look down, the spider was dead. The room in complete silence.

You look at Professor Fury with watery eyes.

"No one should survive this curse." He tells you. Before you can say anything, he softens his expression, looking around. "And none survived, of course. Now, why aren't you guys writing down what I said?"

You don't feel very well for the rest of the class.

//-//

The vast majority of the students seem far more impressed with how dark Fury's classes have become than afraid. You can't say the same, because it seems that every time he has to explain something about dark magic, you feel sick. Gamora tried to cheer you up by joking that auror wouldn't be the right profession for you, but you've been so upset about the absence of Wanda that you've barely been able to smile.

As the first assignment approaches, you want to forget that you fought and apologize, but the girl also seems to be avoiding you, so you do the same.

Pietro has also been distant, and Nebula told you that he and Wanda were not yet on the best of terms, and Pietro was spending much more time with Monica and Darcy than with you all.

When the day of the first task finally arrived, you ignored the fact that you were fighting and went to look for Wanda, unable to ignore the feeling of worry that took over your whole body.

You had no idea what the first task was going to be, but Miss Harkness had asked the whole school to go to the Quidditch field on Saturday, and there were tents set up at the north end. You told Gamora that you would join her in the stands in a moment, that you needed to talk to Wanda first, and you snuck through the crowd to reach the champions' tent area.

"Psst." You called out from between the canvas of the tent, recognizing the gloomy figure sitting in the corner of the place as you entered from the back. Wanda looked around, and then stood up, frowning when she could see your shadow.

Opening the tarp, she looked at you in a mixture of surprise and irritation.

"What do you want here?"

"I didn't come to fight with you." You let her know as you realize the tone in her voice. You bite your lips for a moment, and then sigh. "Damn, I missed you."

Wanda looks away, her cheeks reddening as she crosses her arms. You swallow dryly, ignoring your uncompensated heartbeat.

"Is this what you came for?" She asks half-heartedly, staring at the floor.

"No." You say. "I needed to make sure everything was okay, and I wanted to wish you good luck."

"Why do you care?" She hits back in defiance, and you roll your eyes.

"I'm still your friend, Wanda." You reply. "We fought, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you anymore."

Wanda looks away again, and you switch the weight on your foot.

"Well, that was it." You say. "Good luck to you."

"Thank you." She mumbles without looking at you. When you turn around, her arms wrap around you in a tight embrace. Wanda rests her head on your back and sighs, and you recover from the surprise, caressing her hands resting on your belly with your thumbs. Before you can turn to correspond properly, she releases you. "Now get out of here before a teacher sees you."

You smile at her before walking away.

//-//

Wanda would confront a dragon. You think you're controlling yourself pretty well despite everything.

She was going to be the last to do so, but your heart was already racing from the moment Principal Harkness walked to the center of the Quidditch pitch and after making the general announcements, nodded toward the locker room area that had been enchanted so that the beast could hide inside. The next minute there were witches bringing a dragon into the stadium and the crowd screamed with excitement and fear.

The champions needed to capture the golden egg for the second task, and well, everyone was curious to know how they would do it.

Gamora handed you a small booklet, and you frowned when you realized that it was an enchanted betting chart. She gave you a little smile, waving to someone behind her, and you noticed that almost all the people were betting on the winners, and the game flyers were circulating around the stands. You felt your stomach turn as you watched the enchanted drawing of a dragon spit fire at the image of three witches.

You ended up handing the flyer to Mantis and didn't bet on anyone, focused on watching the task.

Jean Grey captured the egg in fifteen minutes. She took on the Common Welsh Green dragon, and everyone was impressed to watch her use a mirroring spell to confuse the dragon about the true location of the golden egg. She finished the task unhurt, and unseen and you joined the crowd in cheering, watching her receive the perfect score.

Maria Hill was injured in her ordeal, but this certainly brought a lot more entertainment to the audience. She faced the Norwegian Crested Back, and tried to bewitch the dragon with a sleeping spell, but the creature awoke as soon as she reached for the egg.

The audience screamed with excitement as the dragon began to spit fire everywhere, furious. Fortunately, Maria only had minor burns, as she was able to charm the beast again. Her score was lower than Jean's, but still high.

When Wanda's turn came, many of the Gryffindor students began to boo, and you clenched your jaw.

You relaxed momentarily when Wanda looked around the audience, smiling at you before focusing on the creature in front of her.

"That one looks bigger than the other two, huh?" you grumble to Gamora with concern as you observe the beast in the center of the field.

"Maybe he's more docile." She remarks, but it's not true, especially since the next second the creature roars ferociously as it notices Wanda approaching.

The Ukrainian Iron Belly moved his long tail around the field, the iron chains swinging as he did. Wanda was holding her wand, hiding behind a rock. You can barely hear the crowd with the ringing in your ears, your heart racing a thousand an hour in your chest.

As Wanda approaches again, trying to bewitch the beast, the Iron Belly roars, raising its tail in the air to strike her. You blink in astonishment as you watch a shield spell form around Wanda. She rolls across the field, faster than the beast, and runs to reach the egg.

She casts a spell on its snout that leaves it bewildered long enough for her to grab the prize.

On the way back, the creature wags its tail rapidly across the field, roaring with irritation, and hits Wanda in the back, throwing her a few meters forward.

"Y/N what are you doing? Put that away!" Gamora warns you at the next second. You blink in confusion, realizing that you have your wand in hand, raising it in front of you. Gamora lowers your hands, and because of all the commotion, no one else seems to notice. She looks at you with concern, but you feel your mouth go numb; you need to help Wanda.

"Let me go, Wanda needs me." You grumble pushing her hands away, and hurrying to get down from the bleachers. Gamora calls out to you but you don't turn around.

The test continues on the field next to you, but you have to look forward to get down, pushing people aside as you rush to catch up to Wanda, your wand vibrating in your fingers as the rest of your body.

Professor Heimdall stops you at the edge of the stands.

"I need you to focus on my voice, Stark." He asks as he places his hands on your shoulders. You gasp in surprise, trying to turn your head to look at the field, but the firm grip holds you in place.

"Let me go." You ask panting, a pain beginning to well up in your head. "Wanda is in danger."

"Look at me." He commands as he lifts his thumbs to your cheek, pinning your face to look at him. You stare at the yellow irises feeling your breath hitch. You need to help Wanda. But somehow, as the seconds tick by, the yellow eyes are all you can think about. "Pull yourself together. Can't you hear the celebration from the audience? Wanda has completed the test. She is safe."

You choke on the professor's words, feeling an urge to cry with relief. He keeps his expression serious, though.

"Pull it together. Keep your wand away." He commands. "Don't tell anyone about this, not everyone is your friend here."

"W-what?"

But Professor Heimdall lets you go, quickly taking your wand and putting it back in your cloak pocket. He looks around, and smiles at someone behind you. Only now you notice the celebratory noise around you, and you turn around. The crowd is descending, and Principal Harkness is announcing the final scores.

Your friends are coming toward you, happy and smiling. Professor Heimdall steps aside to join the teachers' group, and then you are being dragged with your friends to the center of the field, along with the rest of the crowd celebrating the end of the task. You hear fireworks and shouts of victory, but your gaze is searching for Wanda.

She is shaking hands with the Minister of Magic, Johann Shmidt, and you gasp when you catch sight of her. She has barely turned toward you, smiling and waving shyly when she realizes that you and your friends are coming to greet her, when you run toward her, throwing your arms around her when you reach her.

"Wow." She gasps in surprise, but hugs you back, chuckling softly. You don't let go, and soon your friends are hugging you two too. And they are laughing and celebrating, and you are holding back your tears, not understanding why the possibility of losing Wanda seems worse than death.

//-//

Things get better after the first task. After you left the Quidditch camp, you joined the celebration in the Slytherin communal hall, which was filled with people from all the houses.

All the students who had stood against Wanda before she defeated the dragon now seemed keen to become her friends, praising her and congratulating her on the way she killed the beast.

You still don't understand what exactly happened, but Wanda used some spell that hit the creature in the heart, and well, killing the dragon earned her first place. The other directors were not happy with the judge's decision, but the rest of the school certainly liked it.

You are in the corner of the room, surrounded by your friends and Tony's friends, trying to stay sociable while ignoring how tired you feel.

"Why are you so quiet?" Gamora asks you softly, noticing your lack of enthusiasm to join in the explosive snap game that Quill has just suggested to everyone.

"It's nothing." You lie forcing a smile. Professor Heimdall's words still echoing in your head. "I'm just not in the mood to party. I guess I'm sleepy."

Gamora murmurs in understanding, assessing your face for a few moments. But Nebula is pulling her sister over to look at the items Tony got on his last trip to Hogsmeade, and you don't join in the conversation.

Your gaze searches for Wanda, who is locked in conversation with a seventh grader who has never spoken to you guys before, but seemed very willing to become Wanda's friend now that she has become a champion.

You were thinking of waiting until Wanda had finished talking to the girl to say good-bye, but then you felt irritation boil up in the pit of your stomach as you watched the older girl toss her hair to the side, her hand running up Wanda's arm, as Wanda gave her a wry smile.

You really didn't want to watch Wanda flirting with anyone, so you hurried out of the dorm, hopefully everyone would be busy enough with the party to notice.

Outside, as you turned the corner, you saw something you didn't want to see.

Tony and Steve were kissing against a wall, your brother's hands inside the other boy's shirt. You let out a loud exclamation of shock, covering your eyes.

"God, get a room!" You complained loudly with your eyes closed, feeling your cheeks very hot. You heard Tony and Steve giggle, and waited a moment to open your eyes, only to find Steve very red, looking away, and your brother with his arms crossed.

"Don't be such a baby." He teased. "One of these days I'm going to find you like this."

You choke lightly, letting out an indignant laugh.

"Excuse me, but I don't want to hook up with anyone in the corners of the castle." You mumble in embarrassment, and Tony exchanges a look with Steve, letting out a chuckle.

"Damn, do girls go through puberty later or something?" He teases and you look at him wide-eyed. "I'm teasing you little sister, no need to freak out about it." He mocks as he pulls Steve by the sleeve, when he is walking away, he turns his head to you again. "Let me know if you change your mind, I bet Natasha that you were going to propose to Wanda this year!" He shouts before turning down the hall, leaving you behind with cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

You figure you'd better get back to the dorm before you run into some teacher.

//-//

You have another nightmare during the night. As real as the vision you had during the quidditch cup. You see the graveyard and the red light, but this time, it is you who is attacking. You wake up in fright, but feeling absolutely exhausted, you go back to sleep almost immediately afterwards. This time you dream of someone holding your hand.

//-//

"Have you decided who you're going to ask to the dance?" It is the first question Gamora asks you during breakfast, and you choke on your pumpkin juice. She ignores your reaction and continues talking. "By the way, where were you last night?"

"I told you I was tired." You reply wiping up the juice you spilled with a napkin. "I went back to my dorm."

"You missed the best part of the party." She retorted excitedly. "Some Ravenclaw kids conjured up a fireworks dragon and someone handed out candy from Honeydukes to everyone."

"Sounds amazing." You grumble before going back to eating. Gamora looks at you expectantly, and you sigh, understanding that she is waiting for you to answer her first question. "I don't know if I want to go to the dance."

"You’re not going to the dance?" It is Wanda who asks as she arrives at the table. You almost choke again, but just roll your eyes at the insinuating look Gamora gives you as Wanda sits down.

"Oh, she's just saying that because no one invited her." Gamora teases with an insinuating tone, and you try to hit her but she laughs as she moves away from your grasp.

"You know, you can ask someone if you want to. You don't have to wait for the invitation." Nebula then suggests, and you are surprised because she wasn't even paying attention to the conversation, a spell book laid out in front of her. "Unless you're afraid of rejection."

"What is it with you guys today?" You mutter irritatedly, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you observe the insinuating glances of the two girls in front of you. "Besides, why are you talking about invitations, Gamora? Who invited you?"

Gamora lets out a shy giggle, and then looks away. She nods toward Quill, and you let out a surprised exclamation.

"And you're just telling me this now?" You retort excitedly.

"You're the one who left the party yesterday!" She replies. "He invited me last night, and I was going to tell you, but you left without even looking back."

You roll your eyes with amusement.

"Are you really waiting for someone to invite you?" Wanda asks next, and you look at her, feeling your heart miss a beat. What the hell is going on with you lately?

"I... well, I don't know." You answer clumsily. "I haven't really thought about it.”

"But you want to be asked?" Wanda inquires and you swallow dryly.

"I don't know, maybe."

"But if someone were to invite you now, would you like it?"

"I..."

"God, just ask her at once!" Gamora interrupts impatiently, causing you and Wanda to look at her wide-eyed. Nebula lets out a chuckle, without looking away from the book on your desk. Gamora gestures in Wanda's direction. "Sorry, girls, I just got a little carried away. Please, Wanda, continue with your embarrassing attempt to ask the dumbest person in this school to the dance."

You mumble clumsily, feeling your cheeks warm. Wanda giggles.

The brunette next to you pokes you lightly in the ribs, and waits for you to look at her again before speaking.

"Gamora's right, actually." She says shyly, and you feel your heart speed up. "All champions need to dance at the ball, and well, the first person I thought of asking was you." She confesses quickly. "But it's okay if you don't want to go..."

"No!" you interrupt quickly, feeling your face hot. You smile next. "I'd love to go to the dance with you, Wands."

Wanda looks at you for a few seconds, and you look back. Your stomach flipping with nervousness.

"I'm getting diabetes." Nebula comments next, breaking the moment. Gamora laughs, pushing her shoulder lightly against her sister as you and Wanda look forward uncomfortably.

"Stop it, they're adorable." Gamora hits back with a smile, you clear your throat, feeling embarrassed as you pretend to pay attention to the daily prophet lying on the table and not the presence of the brunette next to you or the comments of your friends.

//-//

Things go well between you and Wanda after that. The discussion you two had is long forgotten. You imagine that Gamora and Tony think that as you begin to help Wanda try to decipher the egg, that you have mentioned to her the connection you have been feeling, but you have not yet found the moment to speak up.

You told her about the other things, though. About the sky mark on the Quidditch canopy, and Tony's investigation of your father and the followers of Mephisto. Wanda was also surprised to learn that Howard and Erik had been friends in school days, but she knew as little as you did about all the issues. You felt bad for having accused her of hiding things from you, and bought Honeydukes candy to apologize.

And so time passed, and the day of the winter ball finally arrived.

To say that you were looking forward to it was an understatement. And you weren't the only one, as during the whole day, the vast majority of the students talked only about this.

Your prom outfits arrived the same day during breakfast. You had written to Jarvis to buy Gamora's and Nebula's costumes as well, and they were very happy to receive the dresses. Tony had a piece of toast in his mouth when you left his suit that arrived in the same package as yours on the table, before you turned to check your own outfit.

"It's very nice, isn't it?" You commented to Gamora as soon as you held out the material aloft. The girl let out a sigh of excitement.

"My god, you're going to look beautiful!" She exclaims, and then gives you an insinuating look. "In fact, you're already a cutie." She teases with a wink, making you laugh.

"Good morning." Wanda said as she joined you, she widened her eyes slightly when she realized that you were looking at the ball costumes.

"Great, you're here!" Gamora speaks to the brunette excitedly. "I want to see your dress!".

Wanda smiled awkwardly.

"It's in my room." She informs you as she sits down next to Gamora. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment, but when you notice, she deflects. "You can see it when we go to get ready."

The conversation eventually went in the direction of comparing outfits and forming combinations, and then you thought it best to put your clothes away before they got dirty with some of the delicious food from the breakfast.

//-//

You were a little surprised to hear that the girls were going to start getting ready for the ball as early as the afternoon, but you didn't object to joining them in the Slytherin communal hall, taking your costume package with you.

"Are you going to wear any makeup?" Gamora asked you as you all stood in the Slytherin dormitory bathroom, which had several girls in it. Fortunately the communal hall was the most luxurious in the entire school and had enough space for everyone. You were sitting on one of the sink benches, after showering and putting on your prom costume, waiting for the girls to finish.

"I don't know how to wear makeup, Gamora." You respond by looking at her. She smiles, looking away from the mirror to look at you.

"If you want, I can help you." She says and seeing your hesitation, she smiles. "Only if you want me to, honey."

"I don't know." You say. "Maybe just lipstick."

Gamora laughs lightly, nodding in agreement. Nebula starts complaining loudly next, not being able to button the zippers of her dress properly, and Gamora gives a giggle, stepping aside to help her sister.

"Stop moving." Gamora warns Nebula, and you chuckle at the scene. Wanda is coming out of the cabin she had come in from to put on her dress, and you feel your breath hitch when you see her. She is adjusting the straps and smiles shyly at the look you cast at her, and you do your best to cover it up.

"You look pretty." She comments as she approaches, looking at you for a moment before looking away to the mirror.

"You look beautiful, Wanda." You retort the next moment, half out of breath. Wanda smiles, her cheeks reddening as she keeps her gaze on her own reflection, fixing her hair.

"Wanda, help Y/N with her makeup, I think Nebula messed up her zipper." Gamora asks the next moment, pulling out her wand to concertize her sister's clothes, who fusses impatiently. You and Wanda share a giggle at the scene, but your giggle dies as Wanda approaches you, a lipstick in her hands.

"I think this color suits your costume." She comments with a smile, opening the lipstick and lifting it to your face height. You feel your breath hitch, watching with slightly wide eyes as Wanda stands between your legs and touches your face with her other hand to hold you in place. "Stand still so it doesn't smudge."

You want to tell her you're not going anywhere, but she's putting the makeup on you in the next second. You keep your mouth ajar, trying to ignore the tingling sensation you feel on your skin where Wanda's fingers are touching, or the way your heart is racing. Wanda is concentrating on her task, and bites her lower lip as she puts on your make-up.

"There you go." She whispers as she pushes the lipstick away from your lips, her gaze lingering on your mouth however. The dark glow in her irises makes your stomach do a flip-flop. You think Wanda is going to kiss you, because she is so close and her fingers are still on your chin, and you wish she would.

But Gamora lets out an exclamation of satisfaction as she manages to tidy up her sister's dress, and Wanda frowns, shaking her head slightly as she steps back.

"You look gorgeous, Y/N!" Gamora says as soon as she glances at you, making you smile awkwardly. You're feeling a little out of breath from all the interaction with Wanda, so you just keep your gaze on your own lap, waiting for the girls to finish the finishing touches. Nebula remarks something about a funny story in the Daily Prophet next and you get distracted.

//-//

You are a nervous wreck when you all reach the main hall.

Gamora nods to Quill, standing in the doorway in his dark brown suit, looking very handsome with the tie that matches his eyes. He flashes her a contented smile as they greet each other with a kiss on the cheek. You see Pietro and Monica have entered the room as well, their arms intertwined. Darcy is right behind, accompanied by a girl you don't know.

You clear your throat, turning to Wanda as you stop at the entrance, but Professor Okoye catches up with you before you can ask if Wanda wants to come in yet.

"Maximoff, dear, there you are." Okoye announces sounding rushed. "The dance of champions is about to begin, I imagine you'll be the partner, right miss Stark?"

"R-right, professor." You reply and the woman nods in agreement, grabbing yours and Wanda's arm to drag you to a corner, where the other champions were already waiting. She hurried out the next moment, signaling to the students outside to come in that she needed to announce the start of the dance.

"Are you ready?" you ask Wanda ignoring the nervous feeling in your stomach. The brunette smiles, her hand slipping into yours and making your heart soar.

"I hope I don't stumble." She retorts with a shy smile, you think she looks absolutely stunning.

"Don't worry." You say looking forward, the other champions straightening up to get in line. "I won't let you fall."

//-//

You twist Wanda in your arms to the rhythm of the music, a laugh escaping your lips. This is already the fourth song in a row that you have danced to together, and the feeling is so incredible that you think you will dance all night.

Two more songs later, you feel thirsty and approach Wanda to tell her you'll get a drink for you two, completely oblivious to the way the girl's cheeks flush when you whisper in her ear.

At the drinks table, Gamora approaches you, her cheeks rosy.

"I just kissed Peter!" She announces and you almost knock over the punch.

"What?" you ask in surprise and your sister laughs, maybe from nervousness or excitement, you can't tell. "Did you like it?

"Sure." She assures you with a smile, looking pleased. You make a mental note to tease her about her blushing cheeks another time. "It was weird the first time, but the sensation is really good when you get the rhythm right."

You nod in understanding, not knowing exactly what you can add in this matter.

"And what are you doing here with me? Go kiss your boyfriend!" You tease next, smiling encouragingly and making Gamora laugh. She turns to leave, but then decides to tell you something.

"Don't forget to tell me how it was with Wanda. I think kissing a girl must feel different."

She then leaves, laughing lightly at your shocked expression. Your heart is racing because the only thing you can think about right now is the possibility of kissing Wanda.

Your gaze returns to the dance floor, and you feel your nervousness increase. Wanda dances timidly to the rhythm of the music, her hips swaying and her eyes closed. She looks beautiful. She is beautiful. Out of your reach.

You shake your head to push these thoughts away, and you take a deep breath before walking over to her again with the drinks in your hand.

//-//

After drinking and dancing to three more songs, the band finally changes to a softer melody, and you smile shyly at Wanda as you hold out your hand to her.

With your hands together, you hold Wanda around the waist, and she rests her free hand on your shoulder. She is blushing at the closeness of your faces, so she gives you a shy smile before resting her chin on the hand on your shoulder. You enjoy the proximity as you move slowly to the rhythm of the music.

You close your eyes, feeling quite good this way. In her arms. Peaceful.

When the music ends, it takes a moment for you to move away, your hands remaining together.

Wanda looks at you for a moment, and then nods her head to the side to signal you two to leave. You bite your lips as she takes you by the hand to escort you out of the room.

You are too busy thinking about the feeling of your hands intertwined to worry about the path, and are slightly surprised when you end up in an empty room.

Wanda lets go of your hand as you enter. And you close the door as she walks inside. She stops walking when she reaches the teacher's desk, and turns around, leaning against the wood. You watch her twist the rings on her fingers nervously as you walk toward her.

You stop at the desk in front of her, mimicking her motion of leaning against the wood as you risk a glance at her.

"What are we doing here, Wands?" You ask ignoring your heartbeat quickened by the tension in the air.

Wanda looks at you, pressing her lips together for a moment.

"What do you think?" She retorts with slight defiance, and you bite back a smile, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"You... you know we don't have to do anything just because everyone else is doing it, right?" You say, and Wanda lets out a short laugh, looking at you slightly impressed. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just that's such a Gryffindor thing to say. Very chivalrous." She teases and you chuckle awkwardly, shrugging your shoulders.

"Well, I am a hatstall after all." You mutter and Wanda frowns in confusion. You shake your head, briefly mentioning what the sorting hat told you in first year and drawing an impressed exclamation from Wanda.

"That's pretty awesome, you know, right?" she adds with a smile.

"Yeah, I'm pretty awesome indeed." You joke making Wanda laugh.

"Oh, there's the Slytherin part I see." She teases. "But I haven't found your Ravenclaw trait yet, are you sure you inherited the intelligence?"

You pretend to be offended for a moment with a grimace, and Wanda laughs, unconsciously or consciously stepping forward.

"Excuse me, but I am a very competent sorceress." You argue smiling, ignoring the nervousness that grows as the proximity between you two increases. "Best charm student in the whole school."

"Oh, really?" Wanda retorts. "Last time I checked I had that position."

"It's okay, we can share first place." You assure almost in a whisper, Wanda is too close for you to think of adding anything else right now.

"There's the Hufflepuff." She says with a shy smile, approaching you one last time. You can feel her breath against your cheek, the emerald eyes fixed on yours. You swallow dryly, risking a look at the lips so inviting. "I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"

"Not if I kiss you first." You breathlessly challenge, and Wanda smiles before moving forward, both of you closing your eyes at the same time as you meet her halfway.

Her lips were soft, just as you imagined they would be. You swallow hard, feeling your whole body heat up. You stood with your mouths together for a moment, before Wanda pulled away, her breathing uncompensated as much as yours, as your lips tingle.

"Kiss me again." She asks hoarsely, and you move forward. This time it's even better, because Wanda's hands go to your neck and yours to her waist. And when she sighs, you ask for passage with your tongue, following your instincts completely.

The sensation is intoxicating, and sends a shiver through your whole body. Wanda tastes like cherry punch, and you gasp at the sensation of your tongues together, squeezing her waist lightly.

You parted for breath, keeping your foreheads together and your eyes closed.

"Wow." You exclaimed softly breathlessly.

"Yeah, I know." She agrees in the same tone, her hands coming down from your neck to squeeze your shoulders lightly. Wanda kisses you again, her tongue moving against yours slowly, exploring your mouth. You moan softly at the sensation and Wanda pulls away breathlessly, blushing due the sound she has managed to wring out.

"S-sorry." You gasp quickly, feeling your cheeks as hot as the rest of your body.

"Don't be." She says. "That was hot."

You let out a clumsy laugh, and Wanda copies, and the moment dissipates from palpable tension to humorous lightness. You kiss briefly before Wanda circles her arms around your shoulders in a hug that you reciprocate equally.

"Do you want to go back to the party?" You ask when she breaks the embrace, but her hands remain intertwined behind your neck.

"Not really." She replies with a smile, biting her lips as she looks at you. " I just came to be with you."

"Oh, yeah?" You ask with slight teasing, and Wanda lowers her gaze to your lips.

"Hu-huh. And now that I have you, I don't want to let you go."

You smile, lifting your hands to her neck, caressing her nape lightly as you kiss her again, not as intensely as before, and with a smile on your lips.

When you pull away, Wanda is smiling too.

"Don't worry, Wands. I'm not going anywhere."

//-//

After the ball, there is a new tension in your relationship with Wanda that makes you lose focus on anything other than her.

Gamora missed no opportunity to tease you about this. And every time she caught you casting passionate glances at Wanda, or the other way around, you got a wry comment to get a room. It was harmless, but it made you and Wanda both blush like tomatoes.

The best change was the kisses.

They could happen suddenly, or be almost planned. Wanda liked to take you by surprise, you could tell. Stealing firm kisses between corridors that made you blush and clumsy, or kisses when you spent time together with your friends, and her hand slipped into yours.

You loved all the kisses she wanted to give you. But you had your favorites. The ones that happened when you were alone, and all you could think about was Wanda. They were usually planned, because to have free time, without friends, you need a little organization. So they usually happened when you went to Hogsmeade together, or when you helped her study for the tournament. It was amazing to finish a study session with Wanda's mouth on yours.

But you knew you still needed to talk to her. You were afraid you would lose the kisses if you did.

As the date for the second assignment approached, Wanda began to get anxious, because you all still hadn't deciphered the golden egg clue.

At that moment you were in the Slytherin communal room, sitting cross-legged on the floor with many books around you. Wanda was lying on the couch, a book enchanted to be at her eye level. Gamora and Nebula in the armchairs, also reading. You are trying to find some clue to decipher the egg.

"We've tried the basic open and close spells, right?" Gamora asks without taking her eyes off the book, probably reading about what she mention.

"Of course." Wanda replies. She sighs in frustration the next moment, taking the enchanted book off her face, and closing it in her lap. You move your hand to hers, trying to reassure her. "I need to figure this out soon, because the task is in a few weeks."

"We will." You tell her with a smile.

"Just out of curiosity, what happens if you don't break out the clue?" Nebula asks and Wanda sighs.

"I won't have any idea what the second task is about and I won't know how to prepare." She replies. "And then I'll lose and be humiliated in front of the whole school. Feel free to drown me in the great lake if that happens."

Wanda's dramatization makes you all laugh, but then you get an idea and your expression fades. Wanda, who was watching you, looks at you curiously, but you are already getting up, hurrying to get the golden egg that was on the couch.

"What are you going to do?" Gamora asked, as curious as the other girls. You walked over to one of the aquariums and held the egg up high.

"Sorry, folks." You said to the fish, and then opened the clasp. The shrill noise filled the room, but before the girls could complain, you dipped the egg into the water and the sound stopped.

You leaned forward and could hear the low melody.

"I can' believe it." You grumbled contentedly, and then dipped your head into the water. Your friends looked at you with wide eyes.

"Has she finally lost her mind?" Nebula sneered at the other two.

When you surfaced again, you had a smile on your face.

"Girls, it's the merpeople!" You counted excitedly. "That's the clue. I can't believe we stared at the great lake all this time and didn't come up with this idea."

Natasha entered the communal hall next, and when she saw your wet torso, she frowned.

" Should I ask...?" She began with mild irony, watching you take the egg from the aquarium and return to the couches, the water dripping all over the hall.

"She just deciphered the egg!" Wanda warned contentedly, and when you approached, she ran her hands down your neck and gave you a lingering kiss, and you almost dropped the egg on the floor.

"For merlin, get a room." Nat teased before Gamora could do it, and you and Wanda parted with giggles.

You used the wand to dry your body and the floor, returning the egg to Wanda. Nat sat down in one of the free armchairs.

After you finished cleaning up, you repeated the lyrics of the song to them.

"Does that mean you're going to be underwater for an hour?" Nebula questioned in surprise to Wanda, and the girl sighed.

"I guess so." She replied thoughtfully. "And now I'm going to need to figure out a way to do that."

"If you were an animagus, you could turn into a fish." Nat mocked making the group smile.

"I thought you'd have a better resistance to holding your breath, Wands. Since you're kissing all the time." Nebula added and Gamora and Nat laughed, while you rolled your eyes awkwardly, and Wanda raised her middle finger at the girl, her cheeks flushed.

"Let's focus, please." Asked the sorceress in front of you, embarrassed by the teasing.

"Yes, yes." Gamora agreed, gesturing. She settled herself in the armchair before speaking again. "I think you could use some plants. I'm sure Mantis must know some herb that will make you breathe underwater."

"Speaking of Mantis, where is she?" Nat asked and you turned your head in her direction.

"She has private lessons with Professor Heimdall, Tasha." You explained. "Of divination. She's pretty good, I think."

Nat murmurs in understanding, and Wanda says she will talk to Mantis about it when she is free. You gather up the books, and decide to spend some time playing chess and drinking tea now that you no longer have to worry about unraveling the egg.

//-//

You miss many opportunities to tell Wanda about your connection with her. That's because you have too many moments alone, between conversations and make-out sessions, and you just don't tell. And the feeling of keeping something from her corrupts you inside, but you bear it.

And then the date for the second task comes, and you're a nervous wreck, and Wanda doesn't understand why you're especially affectionate this morning, but she's not complaining.

Mantis got some kind of plant for her, which would give Wanda enough time to stay submerged as long as necessary.

You and the girls had also practiced swimming in the great lake with Wanda many times since the day you discovered the clue. And the vision of Wanda in her swimsuit was still preserved somewhere in your mind.

"Have you seen Pietro anywhere?" Wanda asked annoyed, looking around as you all had breakfast. The vast majority of the school was already on their feet as well, excited for the start of the task.

"I last saw him last night, after we went to Quidditch practice." Quill counters distractedly, passing jam on one of the toasts.

"You two had worked things out, right?" You ask as you are sitting next to Wanda, she nods and then sighs.

"I think so." She mumbles. "I wanted to see him before the task."

You bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing how to help her. It was already time to leave, and you hoped that Pietro wouldn't be so stubborn to stay away from his sister on this day. You kept your hand intertwined in Wanda's all the way, trying to assure her, and she was very grateful.

The clue was right after all. The whole school was carried to the middle of the lake through the boats, up to huge iron bleachers that were conjured up during the night.

"You look so cute in that uniform." You comment in Wanda's ear before bidding her farewell to go up to the bleachers, talking about the Slytherin competition uniform, and smiling at the way her cheeks redden. "Be careful, Wands."

"I will." She assures before kissing you. She joins the champions and you look at her one last time before going upstairs to join the rest of the students.

When Principal Harkness announces the start of the task, after explaining that an important treasure had been taken from the champions and they would need to find it in the lake, you stand with your body tense with nervousness, clenching your hands on the railing as you look down. The whistle sounds and you hold your breath as you watch Wanda dive in.

"Hey, are you going to be okay?" Gamora asks next to you, placing her hand on top of yours on the metal. You swallow dryly, looking away from the lake to her.

"I will." You say trying to force a smile. "As long as she does."

Gamora looks at you a moment, assessing your face.

"I'm sure Wanda will be fine." She says.

You nod, looking down again. Now all that was left to do was wait.

//-//

"Did you hear what Tony just said?"

You blinked a few times. You were in the circle with your friends in the bleachers, and you got distracted again by looking at the lake. Everyone was anxiously awaiting the return of the champions to the surface, talking among themselves and placing bets on the winners. Tony's friends joined in as soon as the task began.

"Sorry, Gamora." You say. "What?"

"Natasha is missing too." She says and you frown in confusion looking at the rest of the group.

"What?"

"Pietro and Tasha, Y/N." Gamora says. "Tony just said they were supposed to meet last night, but she didn't show up. And no one saw her, just like Pietro."

You didn't know exactly what to make of that, but when you looked at the lake, you frowned.

"Gamora, you don't think that..."

"That's exactly what we're thinking." It is Tony who speaks now, looking at your expression and deciphering the idea that has gone through your head. "I just talked to the Durmstrang guys. One of their boys vanishes at night too, I think he's Grey's best friend."

You widened your eyes, and then leaned on the railing, looking down. Tony and Gamora mimicked your position.

"That's insane." Gamora commented, and you nodded in agreement.

"What happens if the champions lose the task?" Tony asked and you shook your head, not liking the possibility.

"I'm sure Professor Harkness wouldn't let anything bad happen." You say. "Right?"

Gamora and Tony murmur in agreement, and you find that your words were more to reassure you than to reassure them.

//-//

With thirty-eight minutes on the clock, Jean Grey emerged from the lake. And she was not alone.

The crowd started cheering as she and Scott Lang, as Harkness announced, swam out of the lake. Reporters from the Daily Prophet were also taking several pictures, and you noticed the Durmstrang flags in the hands of some students.

Your friends seemed reassured to see Scott's condition, deducing that Pietro and Natasha would also be fine. You only felt more nervous because Wanda was still at the lake.

Twelve minutes after Jean, it was Maria Hill's turn to step up. The crowd celebrated as they watched the remainder of her transfiguration into a shark before she returned to human form, bringing Nat with her. You and your friends rushed downstairs to Tasha, but you barely caught Gamora's teasing about the redhead being the treasure of the foreign student, as your gaze was on the lake while you were on the edge.

"Ten minutes to the end of the second task!" Announced one of the judges loudly, causing the crowd to cheer. You felt your stomach drop. Where was Wanda?

And then you saw her. But only inside your head.

It was another vision, and you felt your body go cold as if you were in the lake. It was dark and blue, and you couldn't breathe properly.

Then you blinked and were back in the stands.

With a sob, you jumped into the lake.

Immediately, as soon as you did, the crowd and the teachers looked at you with shock, but you dove in the next.

It was very cold.

The lake was as dark underneath as you thought it would be. And you were gradually running out of air as you sank, but you didn't care. You needed to find Wanda.

When you began to lose consciousness, you thought you saw a light, and struggled to swim a little further. But then your air ran out completely, and you passed out.

//-//

You woke up in a jolt, feeling like you were drowning.

But you were warm, and lying on a soft surface. It took you a few seconds to realize that it was the bed in the infirmary.

The warmth came from the comforter at the level of your neck, clearly bewitching judging by the way it shimmered softly.

"Hey." It was Wanda. At your side. Safe.

You moved out of the covers quickly, your hand reaching for hers on the bed.

"Hey, how are you feeling? You didn't get hurt did you?" The questions escaped your mouth faster than you even thought about them. Wanda had a frown on her face, but she squeezed your hand back and with the other she touched your face, and you leaned into the touch, feeling your body relax.

"I'm fine, I promise." She assures. "I just don't understand why you did that."

"Did what exactly?" You ask confused, trying to remember how you ended up in the infirmary. Had you hit your head somewhere?

Wanda looks at you with confusion.

"Jump in the lake." She clarified. "Why did you jump in the lake after me?"

You blinked in surprise, giving a short laugh.

"What are you talking about, Wands?" you asked. "I was watching you. Are you sure I didn't fall? Maybe I hit my head and..."

"You don't remember?" She interrupts in shock, and then lets out an incredulous sigh. "Okay, now I'm even more worried."

You were feeling your head aching, and you rubbed your fingers over the tip of your forehead a moment, before sighing.

"What happened to you in the task, anyway? You were gone long."

Wanda looked away from yours, biting her lip.

"It was nothing." She grumbled and you frowned.

"Wanda..." You started. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying." She retorted snidely. But when she looked at you, she didn't keep her gaze and you sighed, letting go of her hand and throwing yourself back on the bed, feeling frustrated. "I just don't want you to think I'm weird."

You frown at the statement, turning your head to look at her again. Wanda takes a deep breath before confessing.

"I've been having visions in my head."

You think you can laugh at the irony of the facts. Wanda takes advantage of your lack of reaction to continue explaining.

"S-started last year. I... I don't know what they mean, but sometimes they make me too distracted. And well, I had one during the task, and I got lost. So it took me a while to find Pietro, but I was fine." She recounts. "You didn't have to jump in the lake and..."

"I saw you." You interrupt half breathlessly. "In my head. I... I thought you were drowning." You recount recalling, feeling a slight pain deep in your eyes. "It was dark and I felt like I was being pulled under."

Wanda's eyes widen.

"I fought with Grindylows down there for a moment." She says. "They tried to pull me to the bottom, and well, it was quite despairing, but I managed to take them on. It was right after I got lost."

"R-right."

Both of you are silent for a moment, your breaths slightly uncompensated as you try to understand exactly what it all means. You clear your throat deciding to break the silence.

"Wanda, what happened to me?"

"You almost drowned." She says lowering her gaze to the bed. "I found you on the way back. Unconscious." Wanda counters with watery eyes. "For a moment I thought..."

She sighs softly, controlling the urge to cry by shaking her head slightly and forcing a smile. You feel horrible for worrying her like that.

"Heimtall and Strange jumped into the lake a little later behind you. I guess everyone thought you were playing tricks, but when you didn't climb back up they realized something was wrong. I was trying to carry you along with Pietro when they caught up with us."

"Come here." You ask opening your arms and Wanda climbs on the bed, sinking against you. You both immediately relax from the embrace, and you close your eyes as Wanda buries her face in your neck, running her hands behind your back.

"Please don't ever do anything like that again." She whispers against your skin, and you swallow dryly. Judging from the facts, you can't promise her that.

//-//

Your friends came to visit you in the infirmary too. You had a short episode of hypothermia, so Nurse Cho wanted you to rest and had let only Wanda stay to see you. Everyone had agreed that you would like to see her first.

Tony told the teachers and judges that he had dared you to jump in the lake, and even though your friends didn't understand why Tony didn't want the adults to know what was going on with you lately, they all backed up the story.

You and Tony ended up with a month's detention for this.

The only relatively good thing about this whole story was that you and Wanda shared the same experiences. You told her about your visions and nightmares, and she told you about hers. Visions of red lights as her powers, and masked witches.

You talked to Wanda about your connection on a rainy Thursday in May. You both were on your bed in the dormitory, a few spell books between you to finish the lesson Professor Stephen had passed on, and Wanda was concentrating, the strands of brown hair falling down her face as she bit the end of her pencil and read the words in front of you. She was beautiful, and you were in love. And you could no longer hide it.

"I need to tell you something."

Wanda looked at you with a mildly surprised expression, but smiled, shifting on the bed to look at you.

You watched her expression go from confused, to embarrassed, and then to worried in a few seconds after the words "There's something weird going on with me. I think I'm magically connected to you, and I'm not just talking about liking you" came out of your mouth. And then you told about the way you felt every time you thought of her in danger, and Wanda swallowed dryly, looking away.

"I don't know what to say." She confessed clumsily, and then clasped her hands to her face for a moment in frustration. "Shit, I have no idea what that means."

You sighed, reaching out to reach for her hand on the bed. Wanda watched your fingers together, and you frowned as her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm putting you in danger, aren't I?" She asked in a whisper, and you looked at her with confusion, but she didn't wait for you to speak. "I'm talking about the lake. You almost drowned to follow me. What happens if I get hurt?"

"Wanda..."

"No." She interrupts forcing a smile, and releasing his hand. "Do you realize how dangerous magical connections can be? What happens if, I don't know, the third task is even more dangerous? Will you throw yourself in front of some other monster? How far does it go? I don't want your life to depend on mine!"

Wanda stands up, babbling nervously about things that might happen, and you look at her in surprise, standing up as well. You try to touch her shoulder, but she pushes your hand away.

"Do you even know if you really like me? If it isn't just because of the magic?" She accuses and you take a step back.

"Don't say that." You retort starting to feel irritated and hurt.

"No, I mean it." She repeats in a whiny voice. "How can you be sure your feelings are real? It could just be the magic and.... "

"I am in love with you." You interrupt, but Wanda just shakes her head in disbelief, letting the tears flow. When you try to touch her again, she sobs and pulls away. "Wanda, I really am. Please..."

"Stop." She gasps as she pulls further away. "Just stop." She asks and you hold yourself in place, feeling your face wet. Wanda takes a deep breath, wiping away her tears. "I need time. I don't...I don't know what to make of this right now."

You swallow dryly, looking at her in shock.

"I don't want us to end." You say and Wanda just sobs softly, shaking her head.

"I can't stay with you without knowing if what you feel for me is real." She retorts in a voice hoarse from crying, but her gaze doesn't flinch. Your stomach turns the wrong way, because you feel terrible. "I need time to think. And I can't think with you by my side."

"Wanda..."

"I'm sorry."

Then she left. And you let the tears flow freely.

//-//

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elencelebrindal · 4 years ago

Note

What's your favorite thing about Legend of Sanctuary, regarding character design? If I recall correctly, you like character design right?

Yes, I do like character design!

What is my favorite thing regarding character design in Legend of Sanctuary? Well, definitely how there’s not a single stereotype in them. I might whine all I want about some of them (ahem, Deathmask), but they are incredible.

What do I mean by saying they don’t have stereotypes?

Simple. Save for Milo, they’re all men. Every singe one of them is a male warrior clad in armor. But! they don’t follow the classic “strictly masculine and/or perfect appearance” I see in many pieces of media when it comes to warriors as strong as these Saints.

But of course, it’s not just that, and this post explains other things I liked as well.

We know Aphrodite is what he is, but in LoS we have Camus wearing makeup as well. He’s there, solemn an beautiful, with the best shade of coral blue lipstick I’ve ever seen on his lips. Aphrodite himself stands out even more than in the anime, with beautiful hair, bright lipstick, and goddamn nail polish on his gloves. That detail was amazing.

Mu wears glasses. I don’t particularly like it, because can you imagine how flippin’ dangerous is to wear glasses in battle? Pray they don’t shatter on you, because you can say goodbye to your eyes in that case, but he does wear them. You know how many warriors I’ve seen wearing glasses? Not that many!

And all those piercings... come on! I know I whined a bit about them, especially while laughing at how ridiculous some of them looked right off the bat (yeah, seeing Aiolia with that goddamn piercing destroyed me and my friend, we did NOT expect it), but it’s such a cool detail! My favorite is Aldebaran, because of course he has that kind of piercing. Incredible. Some of them having a beard (well, facial hair) as well, that’s absolutely creative. I know I know, I literally have an ongoing meme of “the Saints have to shave”, but even if I don’t really like the fact that specifically Aiolos and Aiolia have facial hair... it still freaking creative. It gives uniqueness to the characters.

Saga having heterochromia is one of my absolute favorite details of his entire character design. What best to symbolize the rift inside him? To symbolize Saga having two different personalities? Boom, different eye color. I’d die to have heterochromia myself, I love it, but used as a concept like this? Ooooooh, sign me up, right now. His Cloth being two different colors is devastating as well. Good and bad meaning of the term. That’s peak understanding of a character like him, divided between right and wrong.

But more than anything, I love the scars. I’m so used to see flawless warriors on screen (save for those who need to have scars for story/fanbase being thirsty purposes) that looking at the scars some of them have in plain sight is amazing. I already loved Ikki having a scar in the OG Saint Seiya, but here we have more! Show us that they are warriors! I mean... I know Shura looks like he just, I don’t know, tripped on something and faceplanted on the ground by the looks of his scar, but it’s still there. It’s something, it’s an imperfection that makes him even more perfect. Damn, I love the meaning behind scars in media, you never know if it’s something as stupid as me wielding a knife wrong and ending up with a pathetic scar on my fingertip, or something as incredible as being thrown face first into a wall because you’re trying to save the goddamn world.

But what I’m really, REALLY glad, is that they didn’t stereotyped Milo. I’m still salty that they made him a woman (he’s my favorite character, I was positively mad when I saw what they did), but they kept her a warrior. No unnecessary sexy outfit, no “ok we made Milo a woman, now slap a ton of makeup on her and make her weaker than the male Saints” in sight. I wouldn’t have been opposed to makeup, after all Aphrodite and Camus look better than me when I try to wear it, but I’m SO glad they kept Milo as this straighforward, badass warrior that yes, is a woman, but is still a Saint and not less powerful than her companions. That’s a critical hit to stereotyped female characters in action media.

Obviously, the same reasoning applies to the Bronze Saints. Even Shun, although unfairly treated (he deserved to have his fight against Aphrodite, come on), was depicted as a full-on badass warrior according to what he is in the OG series.

Legend of Sanctuary basically said “fuck you” to every single action movie stereotype and I love it for that. Of course this also applies to the Saint Seiya franchise in general, but this movie takes the cake.

#saint seiya #i cavalieri dello zodiaco #los caballeros del zodiaco #os cavaleiros do zodiaco #knights of the zodiac #legend of sanctuary #gold saints #bronze saints

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afrosarah · 4 years ago

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Reach into your local rock and you may find a friend and boy.

For new followers who don't know the saga of Harvey Two-Face the garter snake:

My stepfather ran over a garter snake with a lawnmower in May of last year. After much grief where no rehabs could take him, Harvey got expert veterinary care, but he lost one eye and is heavily scarred on his back and head, and he can't be rehabilitated for release due to eating difficulties. You can see his missing eye and back scar very clearly in the pic (also, he's hiding cuz he's gonna shed soon :D)

Harvey is actually a female snake - we all got very used to using he/him for him until July of last year, when he surprised us with 20 babies in his tank! Turns out 1.) garter snakes give live birth 2.) neither we nor his vets realized he was pregnant!

Harvey and one of his daughters (don't ask how you check that lmao), Spot, live with me, and the rest were released into a local wildlife refuge.

He is truly the chillest pandemic partner compared to my bird and cat, and he and my mom are homies 4 lyf. Because of his nose injury he opens his mouth to breathe a lot and he says: " :)-< bpleh "

🐍

Long-ass but Important note because it's highkey my job to Educate: I work at a zoo and I have been trained to handle non-venomous snakes like Harvey. It is legal for me to possess him. Always be aware of your local laws regarding the capture and possession of wildlife. If you have to handle a wild animal, exercise extreme caution, because improper handling can be harmful to the animal, and many animals carry diseases or venom that can harm or even kill you. All animals will defend themselves! DON'T mess with an animal you can't identify! When in doubt, leave the area and call animal control or similar authorities for assistance.

#harvey and the harvettes #garter snake #thamnophis #snakes #reptiles

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ravenwritesstuff · 4 years ago

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Best Laid Plans (13/?)

Fandom: Frozen (modern AU, no magic) Pairings: Helsa, established Kristanna, Rapunzel/Eugene, lotsa frohana Rating: T for now, M later almost for sure A/N: Meh.

She goes to the bathroom where she had changed originally.

By some mercy all of her things are still there. She does not know why she thought they might not be, but this day is quickly showing her just how unexpected things can be. Her mouth still tingles from the pressure of his and if she is honest she cannot say it was entirely unwanted.

Still: this precedent cannot stand. If this event is to go forward she absolutely cannot abide this kind of behavior.

It is distracting. It is unprofessional. More than that it hints at the one thing she has not allowed herself to consider for over two years: a future.

Hans Westergaard may not want anything from her more than a fling, but she cannot know that for sure. She cannot entertain anything that may have staying power and if his reaction to her is even a fraction of what she has felt when he touches her then they are in trouble.

The first thing she does is breaths. She knows she tends to not do that and that is no good. She must breathe. Breath is crucial to brain function and clearly she needs as much of that as she can get.

She needs to breathe.

She needs to think.

She needs to move forward.

Her first step of moving forwards is to go to the miniature version of her traveling drugstore in the corner of the gold and marble bathroom, and she immediately starts setting herself right. She cannot get out of her wrap and suit fast enough. Even with the rinse down below she still feels sticky. She pulls out her face and body wipes and gets to work, then the lotion. It is not the type that drenched her skin with cloying scent, but instead offered a delicate perfume that she hopes will remove all traces of the reef and everything after. As she works the cream into her skin she feels her body relax. The familiarity, the sense of routine, slows the spinning world enough that she finally feels like she stands on solid ground.

Her body is hers. Her mind is hers. Her spirit is hers. She focuses on that.

She tells herself this routine has nothing to do with erasing his touch, covering it with additional sensation so she can forget the heat he poured into every inch of her. She tells herself that caressing her body with her own hands has nothing to do with forgetting the imprints he left on her. She reasons that gargling sharp minty mouthwash is to take the tang of ocean salt from her tongue and not the memory of his own intimate flavor. She tells herself that she hadn’t kissed him back.

She wishes she believed herself, but the last point is a lie and she knows it.

Still she comforts herself knowing that if nothing else it reminds her that there is life off of this boat, outside of his initiative. These steps, routines, exist outside of him. The vast majority of her world exists outside of him and would continue to be so for as long as she is alive. It is a victory, she tells herself, to not need him.

All she wants is to plan a great event. All she wants is to elevate her company to the next level so when she leaves she will know they are set. All she wants is to make peace with her fate and leave her family with the resources they need for success.

She dresses, glad for the shapeless way her shift floats around her body revealing nothing. She untangles the mess of her hair and combs her fingers through the white blonde mass. The salt from the ocean brings out its fullness and body. Without a blowdryer and a round brush there was no hope of taming it to lay around her shoulders and down her back without it exploding into a frizzy mess. Her fingers deftly create a braid that she curls and pins at the nape of her neck, hiding her scar.

Finally she finds her silver locket and clasps it behind her neck.

She may have been tempting fate wearing this specific piece of jewelry. Hans Westergaard had taken a special interest in it at the wedding after all, but she knows she cannot simply stop wearing it. It is her most precious belonging and she is not about to allow one over-inflated playboy keep her from exercising what little control she has over her life.

She straightens her shoulder and swipes on just enough makeup to make her feel like she isn’t a ghost: a bit of mascara, concealer, brow fill, blush, and a swipe of nude lipstick. She has never been a gloss girl. Her fair complexion already makes her look younger than she is. She does not need help in that department, especially since she will never grow old.

The thought slips in before she can stop it but it still catches her breath. It has been easy to ignore for the last two years, but she knows she is chasing the end. Time and fate do not just stop because you turn your eye. She feels them both biting her heels.

In an act she hopes is fortifying she looks herself in the eye in the mirror.

She says what she has said for many other days to remind herself of her position, her focus, whenever she felt lost:

“The end is coming.”

The words bend in a strange way in this space. She has grown used to how they unfurled in the small bath off of her studio apartment where she has often found macabre comfort in her single affirmation. What use has she for self-help mantras and manifestation when science has told her the truth?

The end is coming, and it is coming soon. She has felt it. It is not constant, but just enough that she recognizes its impending presence. This is when she must bow out and relinquish herself to fate - no matter how cruel. She did not choose this, but it seems the universe did. Who is she to argue with the universe?

Her shoulder rolls back, eyes catching in the mirror, and she cannot delay further. If she does it will result in her heaving herself off the deck into the depths of the ocean and not coming back up and that is not becoming for PR regarding an up-and-coming event planning business.

She must face this.

She considers what she has faced to this point and in many ways is able to convince herself that anything she has encountered between herself and Mister Westergaard is quite small. Perhaps, in many ways, it is. Perhaps this ephemeral chemistry has left them grasping at things that do not exist.

There is no future and she is fine with that. Yes she may have reacted and even enjoyed the attention of his kisses but that does not mean she must succumb to the succulent pleasure he offers. After all he does not know what he is asking.

She does not have a future.

She does not know how to tell him that.

So she looks at herself in the mirror and decides that after this event she is done. Of course she will do her best at finishing out what she needs to contractually, but she will not accept any more events. From here on in her purpose will be to transfer whatever authority she has to a new trainee. It is the most she can hope to do for a company that was founded on the fact that she is dying.

Her head shakes, hand gripping pure stone counters veined with what she can only assume is actual gold, and this is her purpose. This is why she is here. If she can keep this event under the guise of E&A Events without ever giving away her position as she has done with everything they have done. Then their business will catapult to the stratosphere of society.

They are ready. She knows they are. They all have the skill and capability to reach the heights she never will, but she hesitates. Hiring. The one thing they have never really done. Kristoff was acquired through dating Anna. Rapunzel and Eugene were acquired through Kristoff and Anna drinking at a bar and forcing Elsa to realize they were the perfect fit for their expanding needs. The intern Sven, Kristoff’s friend, fit in well enough to warrant a staff position if available, but he definitely could not fill her shoes.

They needed someone who was focused on delivering perfection, someone who would balance out her obsession with black and white solutions, someone who could move them forward when her own desire for being more kept them from actually accomplishing anything.

Someone like Hans. Her own mind betrays her and she takes a breath.

She had not lingered in this bathroom to have her own motivational mirror time accost her so she knows it is time to go. Turning towards the door she sucks a serrated breath and reminds herself of the truth.

All that matters is the deal, the zeros on the bottom line, the chance to upscale the business.

At least that is what she tells herself as she tries to settle an errant, romantic heart.

Romance. The very word simultaneously makes her laugh and cringe. Of course she had wanted someone to share her life with, someone who didn’t judge or query or laugh. Someone sober-minded, driven, responsible, kind… but she shoves aside that narrative.

Even at Camp for Those Who Probably Weren’t Going to Make It (not the official name but the name given by her and her best camp friend in the summers spent there) she knows how unrealistic this is.

Love can heal, it does heal, but not when it comes to cases like her.

This is no simple saga of a single broken heart that could be bandaged if the right pair of hands came along. This is her own body declaring war on itself while requiring her to be inside of it but also sit back and watch. The cruelty is not lost on her, but she is prepared. This has been her end for a long time.

She will watch until the bitter end.

So she looks in the mirror. She squares her shoulders. She tightens the muscles in her back. Though not the tallest woman in the room she is above average and feels that is very much to her advantage. She will take every advantage she can during this negotiation for more than one reason.

After all: what is negotiation other than having the best side of a deal?

Little does she know that she is about to find out.

….

The rest of the party is back and dressed in their original clothes when she emerges onto the deck where they had first started. She takes stock and if she was not wound as tightly as a child’s music box she may have found the mix of mussed and professional endearing.

Well, at least where her team was concerned.

Her sister especially struck a chord in her disheveled pigtail braids, freckles shining on her cheeks and nose from their time in the sun, and her negligence to reapply any kind of makeup. Even in her casual professional outfit Elsa could not help but see her sister as they had been as children. As they had been before -

That thought is dangerous territory in current company and she reigns it hoping no one noticed the flicker of sentiment (and by no one she means Hans Westergaard). The situation has made it clear that she cannot afford any emotional weakness, no chinks in the armor, and she whips and beats her consciousness to submit to meet what she is so sure they need.

With an effort she is chagrin to admit she meets Mister Westergaard’s eyes to find them carefully resigned, as if he had to muster a similar effort to meet her gaze. Still the moment her eyes meet his she is struck with a heat she cannot explain - especially considering the distance. She swallows nothing, throat working around the promise of relief that cannot be found in such a simple action.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” she says around the lump in her throat, gaze scanning everything.

The elaborate spread of food and drink menus have been removed and she feels a pang of hunger that makes this discovery a regrettable one. Simultaneously she is surprised she is even interested in food at this moment. Not just because of her racing heart but she hasn’t been hungry in weeks, not genuinely anyway. She knows what that signals, but has been ignoring it.

Perhaps this is a good sign?

She tightens her core against the burgeoning hope. She is beyond trusting herself. If her condition has gone far enough she really cannot trust her own mind. The idea sends a spiteful fever through her gut, coiling and venomous. Who was she if she could not trust herself, her judgement?

She pushes at the hunger and levels her gaze somewhere in the middle of the group: “What did I miss?”

Anna smiles in a way that betrays nothing. She is either getting better at masking her feelings or Kristoff really hasn't divulged anything.

“We all just got here,” her sister smiles. “We were waiting for you.”

Elsa does not dare look at Hans for his response to that comment.

“Well I’m here now,” Elsa squares her shoulders and shifts her attache case in her hands. “Shall we discuss the initiative?”

The words themselves rest a tang on her tongue, bright as blood, and she is just glad it does not taste like him.

“Of course,” it is he, his voice smooth and calm as she hoped she had sounded before. “But you all must be hungry. I have taken the liberty to make sure lunch was provided today so we can spend the afternoon discussing details.”

It is only then that she allows herself to realize that he has lost his sweater from the morning and only wears the crisp white button down that had been hidden beneath. The long white sleeves are rolled to the elbows. His forearms are lean, roped with purposeful strength, and sprinkled with both freckles and thick copper hair. The sight of even part of him reminds her of how much she had seen before and unease descends upon her like a guillotine.

“Certainly,” Elsa nods, aware everyone is watching for her cue. “Thank you for the consideration, but we cannot presume to take so much of your time. I am sure after a working lunch my team and I will have enough to get started on your project. After all we want to provide you with the absolute best services and we are best prepared to do that in our offices.”

“Of course,” Hans Westergaard steps nearer and even at the distance of several feet she feels her calf cramp against the impulse to step back in response. “But you see I plan on being involved through this entire process. It is crucial that I work alongside you and make sure you understand everything you need to know so you can deliver exactly what I want.”

She levels her gaze, steadies her breath, and sees exactly what he is doing. Just as he clearly saw her own tactic a few moments before and she has never met someone to challenge her like this.

“That is the beauty of hiring E&A Events,” she smiles instead of screaming. “We can accomplish things for you in less time and with less supervision things that many other event planners cannot. That is why we hope you trust us and our recommendations. Once we outline your expectations we will only have to check in periodically to make sure we are on track.”

A shadow of a smile pulls at his lips as his gaze darkens. “And if I want to have a more hands on approach?”

Her breath catches against her will. Her body heats with each memory of exactly what his hands felt like across her frame and that is not part of the deal. It never will be, but she can feel the tension in the air. She can sense her crew’s suspicion rising at this exchange, inferring indiscretion, and she raises an imperious brow in counterpoint.

“There are no contracts signed, Mister Westergaard. Let’s sort through the particulars and see if we are a good fit.”

It is the best she can do to diffuse and redirect a conversation she can only describe as wildly out of hand. Still the look in his eye at her phrasing does nothing to settle the rolling feeling in her stomach. His enigmatic gaze tells her nothing but that she is in trouble.

“Lunch sounds great,” it is Kristoff who breaks in. His voice is just a little too eager.

“Yeah,” Anna chimes in too and Elsa cannot help but wonder just what she has gotten out of Kristoff explicitly and what she has read between the lines. “After all of that swimming I am starved!”

Rapunzel and Eugene seem all too happy to acquiesce and she can see Hans Westergaard slip into his perfect host skin. His smile broadens, his eyes get less focused, and he moves his attention from lasering in on her to directing the party as a whole. At least he can read a room - but maybe that is what makes him so dangerous.

Hans introduces the impeccable brunette that had directed her to the Sunset Parlor. Janet, her name is Janet. Elsa fixes onto that, on the humanness of this woman and how she could clearly care less about Hans Westergaard and his charm and his influence and whatever else he brings to the table as she offers the most gracious of smiles and gestures to Elsa’s crew to follow her.

The group all goes ahead of them.

Elsa had thought Hans Westergaard would go first but all he does is rock on his toes like a dare as the rest push into the interior of the boat. Elsa’s mind flashes to creamy yellow leather and lush mahogany wood and how if the lunch options were anything like the brunch options she may actually have to indulge (slightly). If this is the challenge he wants to lay down she will meet it.

She turns and follows the group. In no less than three steps she stopped by a strong hand on her shoulder turning her to meet his watching eyes. They have not quite left the main deck and she has watched carefully enough to know that the reflective glass is keeping them from further chatter of indiscretion. That does not mean she is thrilled to be stopped before she is coupled with the relative safety of going into lunch with her team.

Still she turns with razor eyes: “Stop it. This is not the right time.”

“Oh? Why do I feel like it will never be the right time with you?” he pulls the easy smile she knows is not his and her stomach turns.

“Stop,” she steps back and his hand drops. “You really have to stop.”

Her spine tightens as she tries to not lean away even though he has not moved closer. The kisses between them still sing. She may not be the most experienced girl at the bar but she knows a player when she sees one and there is no way she is letting him get closer in any way.

He cocks his head to the side, “why?”

“I understand you are an influential man,” she stares at the third button down his chest, ignoring that the first two are undone, and trying her best to not remember… “But we are, well I am not in the habit of pawning off favors for the sake of business. If I gave you the wrong impression or insinuated what you might expect…”

Her blush cuts her off and swallows.

His voice is low and soft, “I don’t expect anything.”

That rips her eyes to his. She does not know him, but she knows enough to never trust that sentiment.

“Everyone expects something,” she replies before she can catch herself and her mind goes double time to make up for her misstep, for showing her authentic feelings.

Even if it is true - even if he is born to an entire line that expects something - that does not give her permission to spew all over him. Still she is not about to allow her company to become the laughing stock of higher society because this man can adapt to any circumstance. There are no stakes for him here as far as she can see.

So she straightens her shoulders and does not back down. His chin lowers, slow grin melting across his face. All he does is shift his weight and she has to keep herself from jumping. What if Anna - ?

“What is it that you think I expect that has you so on edge?”

His eyes are hooded, lips soft, and the heat of their kiss is so near to her memory it would only take the slightest effort to pull it to the front of her mind and make a terrible decision, but she reins it in.

“Honestly I don’t want to patronize you with what we were both privy to,” they hold each others gaze for an uncomfortable breath then: “Before we move forward I need you to be honest about your potential contracting of E&A Events. It must have no ulterior motive beyond your event creation and completion. Tell me that you are hiring us for our collective merit, the event we could plan for you, and not for any other reason.”

He tilts his head to the side with a smirk, “What other reason could I have?”

She flushes, but not of embarrassment. This time the flush rises from - she hates to admit - agitation. She had though they had been on the same page, that he was actually listening to her, but that seems to be untrue.

“Are you asking me to suppose that you kissed me - repeatedly - was simply out of some sort of goodwill?”

His grin blossoms in full at that and it fills the room to where her whole body tense to stop a step back though he does not move. Even with feet separating them she can feel the heat of him against her and it is not fair. He rests so easy across the space from her that she cannot help but cross her arms over her chest in resistance to him.

“No. I am fully supposing you understand I kissed you because I find you wildly attractive,” his smile stretches so wide she wonders if it hurts even as it stops her lungs.

“Then this cannot go on,” it is a hard rush of the only air left in her body. The exhalation of this truth gives her space to suck in new air and continue, “while I am flattered there is no version of this story that ends the way you want unless that story ends with my company planning you an unforgettable event and us not getting involved in any way.”

The moment the words are out of her mouth she second guesses them. Her mind goes wild with everything she said wrong or could have said better but she is glad that the truth is at least out there. When expectations are set, she has learned, most parties end up happy. Still as she watches him she cannot quite be sure that rule applies here.

His hands tuck into his pocket and he rocks onto his toes. It isn't disappointment, but there are shades of that along with other things beneath the surface that she tries to not dissect too closely. Her mind comforts herself with the black and white of the situation. These kinds of boundaries are good and what they need to be professional. She had felt unsettled before because she had allowed gray to shade them. If he couldn’t accept her terms then -

“Well,” his tongue wets his full bottom lip and she can feel the gray slipping back in. “I told you I would kiss you like I would never get another chance. If that is all we get, I’ll learn to live with it.”

He smiles, not his mega-watt-light-the-night-sky-smile, but something softer and more secret. It sends a thread of anticipation up her spine that she cannot unravel.

Still she takes his words to heart.

I’ll learn to live with it.

He would have to.

After all. She had.

[ previous ]

#best laid plans #helsa #frozen #iceburns #kristanna #fanfiction #modern #au #tangled #crossover

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jurijurijurious · 5 years ago

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Rambles on watching PotC in reverse...

So I finished my "watching Pirates of the Carribean films in reverse order" thing. Had a blast, tbh, not seen them for so long it was almost like seeing some of it fresh and all the feels came back! The music is stunning, particularly in number 2 and 3; Hans Zimmer and co. knocking it out the ballpark. Gave me goosebumps!

Anyway, ramble ho!

I appreciate watching a series backwards is a bit odd. It certainly opens your eyes to the nuances (or weirdness) of character development that occurs, but instead of you seeing it flow naturally from origin to conclusion, you end up picking up on where all the little seeds were originally planted long after you've witnessed what the final "bloom" is going to be; a "reverse order" watching also highlights some gaping plot-holes and even the odd awkward and utterly retconned plot point (Jack's compass story, for example, appears to be completely re-written in the fifth film when it is clearly stated in the second that he bartered it from Tia Dalma. There could be a convoluted explanation but it certainly looks like a writing fuck-up, or a case of "we give no shits any more". I'm wondering if the team behind the fifth film even re-watched the other movies?)

I feel like I have much more respect for Elizabeth's character than I once did; I don't think I paid her nearly enough attention back in the day, and watching her story backwards made me recognise how, from the start, she was always more pirate than Will; she was brave, a total geek about pirate lore (her child-self was super excited at the very prospect of pirates!), and she was brave enough right at the start of her adventure to be asked to be taken to parley with the dread Captain Barbossa — just in her nightgown. (Christ, she even tries to kill him! Gutsy lass.) It is only natural therefore that she continues to use her wiles, cunning, and to a degree her sex, to trick and deceive whenever the need calls; in "Dead Man's Chest", she even uses this guile to sacrifice Jack to the locker!

She also, right from the start, learns a lot from ol' Barbossa, and this runs on into the third film; Hector Barbossa is no spring chicken but he has managed to remain captain of a ship of unruly thugs for nigh on ten years following his own mutiny of the original captain, Jack Sparrow. He would never have been able to hold onto that position without a measure of competence, skill and bravery. Elizabeth recognises this and, whether consciously or not, begins to both emulate and acquire knowledge from him, becoming something of a willing student to his ways.

Now this is something I should probably have taken on board more before as I used to write and read "Barbossabeth" fanfiction regularly (probably the most far-fetched alternate pairing in the saga; in reality, Hector is probably the only central male figure Elizabeth doesn't kiss/have a fling with/get engaged to at some point). In truth, as aforementioned, Elizabeth proves from the start to be a match for Barbossa, who is certainly no fool himself, but even in the first film, she starts to learn from him — his line about the pirate code being"guidelines" which he throws at her early on, she literally parrots nearly word-for-word when it suits her later on in the film; and in "At World's End", she works well with him in a team and soaks up how he holds a crew together and the way he rouses loyalty and action through skilled oration; his speech at the Brethren Court, for example, she again regurgitates later on in the film to galvanise her crew for battle. As a pair they banter and tease and argue, but push each other in the right direction when they need to be pushed, and, by the end of the third film, they have both respect and admiration for one-another. It's one of the most subtle but fulfilling character-and-relationship arcs across the original trilogy and deserves more attention.

On the ol' "Barbossabeth" note, to be frank, there's little sign in the films that they would or could be a romantic item; Barbossa teases her in the first film and seems like he might have an idea to make her a"pirate bride", but there seems little chance of him being able to subdue her spirit. There is that wonderful jokey moment in "At World's End" however, designed to trick us all, when Will asks Elizabeth to make her choice regarding his proposal of marriage to her (in the midst of battle) and Elizabeth shouts out in return "Barbossa!"

And just when we all think, along with poor Will, "what the Hell, when did he come into the equation?" she finally finishes her sentence and we realise she is asking Barbossa, in his capacity as the ship's captain, to wed her to Will. (I still remember seeing the film in the cinema and my heart popped at that moment — I'd take Barbossa any day.) But those of us who take a shine to Rush's scarred old sea dog can dream, I suppose.

I think when all's said and done, standing back and looking at these characters and what they go through, Barbossa comes out best at the end. Even though we are introduced to him as a black-hearted brigand who pillages and plunders with his cursed crew, and is allegedly "so evil Hell spat him back out", we finish up with a rogue who has aimed to live his best life, and whose dedication to his ship is unshakeable. When the Pearl is threatened by the Kraken in "Dead Man's Chest", Jack's first thought is to save himself and he sneaks off in a longboat; irrespective of the fact he does have a change of heart and comes back to save the day, we should contrast this with Barbossa's tale of the Pearl being attacked by Blackbeard: the ship is possessed and turns on him and his crew, the rigging coming alive like snakes, wrapping itself round and round his leg. In his head, Hector knows he has to escape to be able to live so he can plot to retrieve his beloved ship and save it from this dark magic; in order to do so, he cuts his own leg off to get away. There is no universe in which Jack Sparrow would have cut his own limb off to free himself, but Barbossa does; there's a steel and strength to this character I don't think is always fully appreciated; he sails the ship like a boss, will hold up in the darkest of battles, and ultimately in the final film gives his own life when he knows his time has come and he owes it to the child he has left behind. There's your hero; Jack Sparrow is your comic relief and nearly always goes in for self preservation.

The other behemoth of these movies which I can not fail to mention is Davy Jones. Though Captain Salazar is a force to behold as the creepy-ass, psychotic undead captain in the final film, the best real menace of the saga is Bill Nighy's captain of the Flying Dutchman. Hans Zimmer composes him a musical theme unlike anything we've heard before, a theme full of deep organ blasts which hits you with clout, and though Jones is entirely CGI, he is still utterly Nighy. To be honest, he's perhaps one of the most incredible CGI movie characters ever created; he looks utterly convincing as the rain pours down his face or his eyes flash at his crew. Considering he first appeared on our screens 14 years ago, this is one Hell of a feat; there have been few better CGI characters on the big screen since. He's extravagant and perhaps hams it up too much for some people to appreciate, but it's a pirates film, you expect extravagance; I never get tired of watching Davy Jones. A piece of artistic wizardry, a cinematic masterpiece.

I will probably think of more to wax lyrical about some time soon. I currently have a plan in my head for a storyboard I would love to get down, at least in sketches, though part of me would love to make a video to mock a scene up, all based on Barbossa's tale about how he lost his leg and the Pearl to Blackbeard. It'd make a cracking scene, I've no doubt, but it'll be a job and a half to realise

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #captain barbossa #davy jones #elizabeth swann #at world's end #dead man's chest #salazars revenge #on stranger tides #blackbeard #geoffrey rush #bill nighy #barbossabeth

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secretlyatargaryen · 5 years ago

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Tyrion and Zuko: The Good Bad Guy, The Bad Good Guy

I’ve never seen anyone compare Tyrion Lannister and Zuko, but the parallels seem so obvious to me. I know there’s been a lot of comparisons in fandom to Zuko and his arc and a lot of discussion of what makes a good redemption arc and I’m not necessarily talking about this from that perspective, because I don’t really think Tyrion is on a redemption arc (and also reject the idea that I’ve seen bandied about that he is on a “villain” arc or that his arc is in opposition to his brother Jaime’s, with Jaime as the one who is usually seen by fandom as set up for redemption.) But I do think the parallels between the two characters are striking. I don’t think they’re 1:1 and even many of the parallels I make are not intended to be exact, as these two characters have narratives that are structured differently, and of course there are differences based on medium and target audience between the two series.

This is part one of a series of posts on these two characters, and this part will focus on how these characters are positioned structurally by the narrative.

Spoilers for both series to follow!

The biggest, most immediate difference between Tyrion and Zuko is that Zuko is positioned as an antagonist at the beginning of the story (although not necessarily a villain), while Tyrion is not antagonistic to the identifiable heroes at the beginning of AGOT, and is in fact the only Lannister not to be positioned that way by the narrative initially. In fact, part of this meta and part of my purposes for comparing them is to argue that Zuko’s narrative arc is not a straight line from villain to hero, which makes him very similar to Tyrion and his narrative positioning as the “good bad guy, the bad good guy” as Peter Dinklage says of his character on Game of Thrones. Even though Zuko’s mission at the beginning of the series is antagonistic to Team Avatar, he is still presented as a POV character with whom we are meant to sympathize, if at first only through sympathetic characters in his story like Iroh and characters who act as antagonistic in his own story, like Zhao and later Azula.

Tyrion also is presented to us as on the “bad side” of the narrative. He’s a Lannister, and many of the immediately sympathetic characters dislike and distrust him. Yet he is positioned sympathetically almost immediately as seen through characters like Jon Snow and Bran, and in contrast to his brother and sister.

Zuko and Tyrion also are positioned similarly in the narrative in relation to the way they are paired with and against the other characters in the story. Heroic narratives often make use of the Rule of Three, and one way in which this is shown is in presenting the main characters of the story as a triad. This type of narrative will have a protagonist, a deuteragonist, and a tritagonist. Usually the protagonist and the deuteragonist are male, and serve as foils and shadows of each other, and the third protagonist, or tritagonist, is a female character. You could argue about who takes the second and third position but it’s inarguable that in Avatar: The Last Airbender (further referred to as ATLA), these characters are Aang, Zuko, and Katara. In A Song of Ice and Fire (further referred to as ASOIAF) these characters are Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen, and Tyrion Lannister. This is also why it’s often theorized that Tyrion is the third head of the three-headed dragon that Dany and Jon are both part of, despite not having any Targaryen blood.

The other narrative structure that ASOIAF uses with regard to the characters that mirrors ATLA is what George R R Martin coins “the five key players” in his original manuscript of ASOIAF:

Five central characters will make it through all three volumes, however, growing from children to adults and changing the world and themselves in the process. In a sense, my trilogy is almost a generational saga, telling the life stories of these five characters, three men and two women. The five key players are Tyrion Lannister, Daenerys Targaryen, and three of the children of Winterfell, Arya, Bran, and the bastard Jon Snow. (source)

I have theorized from what he says here that when Martin originally conceptualized his story, he intended for Tyrion to be younger than he is when we see him in the series, as Martin says that the five central characters will “grow from children to adults,” and Tyrion is already an adult as of his first chapter in A Game of Thrones. However, the fact that Tyrion is quite a bit older than the other four is thematically important. Tyrion is a character who, when we see him at the beginning of the story, has lost his innocence and become embittered by an abusive childhood and a lifetime of cruelty directed towards him because of his dwarfism. Yet Tyrion, thoughout the series, often relates to the child characters specifically because of that lost innocence. He offers help and advice to Jon, Bran, and Sansa throughout the series, and as of ADWD is on his way to join Daenerys.

Similarly, Zuko is positioned against the four main child characters of ATLA that make up Team Avatar, Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Toph, and has moments where he relates to them even before he seeks to join them. And although Zuko is only sixteen and very much a kid (which becomes even more apparent when he joins the gaang), and Tyrion is an adult, he is still a young man and his relationship to Jon is something like that of an older brother.

Zuko and Aang’s relationship could be compared with that of Jon and Tyrion. Jon and Aang offer friendship to someone who they should consider an enemy, and Tyrion and Zuko end up becoming unexpected mentors to the younger boys. In both stories, this serves to highlight the tragedy of how war pits people against each other and what each of these characters has lost.

Aang to Zuko: If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends, too?

-S1E13

Even after ADWD and all the war and strife between Stark and Lannister, Jon still considers Tyrion his friend. Obviously, we do not have the ending of ASOIAF to compare to ATLA, but I find it an interesting parallel, nonetheless.

Another thing that makes the characters similar on a structural level is the use of visual symbolism to show the characters’ internal struggle and duality. This is a clever and immediate way for the audience to understand that this is a character who we are meant to see as morally complex. Visual symbolism is more obvious in a medium like animation, and the specific piece of visual symbolism is something that was downplayed in ASOIAF’s television adaptation, so it might be less apparent, but I’ve talked before about how Tyrion’s heterochromia is a visual symbol of his dual nature as a character and his struggle with his identity.

Similarly, Zuko’s scar functions as a symbol of his duality. And although Tyrion also has a dramatic facial mutilation to compare Zuko’s burn scar to, I am comparing Tyrion’s heterochromia to Zuko’s scar instead because of the symbolism associated with eyes and seeing.

It is often said that “the eyes are the windows to the soul,” and the reason for this is obvious. Often we look into another person’s eyes to get a glimpse of who they are, to understand and empathize, to connect and hope they connect with us. Therefore, in fiction, eyes can often tell you a lot about a character’s identity. Having a scar over one eye is an immediate signal of Zuko’s conflict from the moment he is introduced to the audience. His stated goal from episode one is to capture the Avatar, but as the series goes on we see what this goal really is: an impossible task given to him by his father because it is impossible. Therefore, Zuko’s desire to regain his identity as prince of the Fire Nation is put into question. And what better way to represent a conflict with Zuko’s identity towards the Fire Nation than with an injury caused by fire? I’ll talk much more about Zuko’s scar in part two because this is an extremely important part of his narrative.

Tyrion’s heterochromatic eyes function in a similar way, and mirror the way Martin uses color symbolism in ASOIAF. Tyrion is described in the books as having one green eye and one black one, a fact that was not included in the show save for one scene in the pilot, and was eventually discarded, as were Dany’s purple eyes, because of the difficulty colored contacts posed for the actors, and because, as I suspect, it was decided that it was not enough of a noticeable detail to be worth the trouble. It’s a lot easier to get away with things like this in animation (and Zuko’s scar doesn’t work in a live action series for similar practical reasons), but Tyrion’s “mismatched” eyes are a detail often mentioned in the books. Tyrion’s green eye is the eye color he shares with his brother and sister and father, and is known as a distinctive Lannister trait, representing their physical beauty and perfection. And like Tyrion’s disability, his heterochromia is an imperfection and so not tolerated in a House that prides itself on perfection. His black eye, in contrast, while often called his “evil” eye and is a cause, in addition to his dwarfism, for others to treat him like a pariah, brings him closer to who he is as a person separate from his family, as dark eyes represent earthiness and intelligence.

Zuko’s scar also marks him as other the way Tyrion’s heterochromia marks him. It is often called attention to by characters in the series. In the first season it is often used to make him look frightening. Yet it also marks him in the eyes of the audience and the eyes of other characters as a victim of the Fire Nation and a survivor. In this way, the meaning of Zuko’s scar becomes flipped and it is his unmarred side that links him to what appears on the surface to be the order and perfection and superiority of the Fire Nation, but which, just like Zuko’s face if we are only looking at it from one side, hides a warped horror.

In part two I talk about how these two characters have similar trauma and conflict with relationship to their families and how that shapes their narratives.

#tyrion lannister #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf meta #zuko #avatar the last airbender

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nadziejastar · 5 years ago

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It's funny that ReMind had that ridiculous scene where RAX "reclaim" the Recusant's Sigil (after having never cared about it before, ice cream was the symbol of their friendship) but Saix having one carved into his face gets no attention.

— By the way, Braig’s dealings with Master Xehanort in Birth by Sleep make sense now, as he was to become a vessel.

There is a certain reason for Braig to proudly exclaim, “I’m already half Xehanort.” Isa (Saïx) is included too. I think you’ll understand the details about their circumstances eventually.

I know! Roxas, Xion, and Axel never even once mentioned the Recusant’s Sigil before. But it was carved onto Isa’s face! All the lore was just wasted. Really pisses me off. Instead of having anything interesting going on with Saïx, like the Recusant’s Sigil, his entire personality was explained by him being a jealous man-child who is simply bad with handling his emotions and can’t handle Axel making new friends with a couple of kids. That was it. Such an insult to his character.

— There are several Organisation members whose original names are still unknown. Will we have a chance to learn them someday, or to find out about the scar on Isa’s face?

If there is a sequel, then that chance may come. But in my heart right now my desire is a blank page.

Even Nomura knew there was supposed to be more to explain with Saïx’s scar. He just didn’t wanna talk about it. He avoided the topic and said he just wants a “blank page”. So, we should just forget all of the Dark Seeker Saga’s plot holes, I guess…

The Recusant’s Sigil is the mark of death. It is used to signify the death of the vessel’s original self, which is why Xehanort added it to all the members’ names. It’s also a mark of ownership and submission to authority. Osiris was the god of death, and ruler of the underworld. The “X” was placed on the dead, as a sign that when they descended to the Underworld, Osiris would grant them eternal life when he merged with the sun god Ra. The game was called “Birth By Sleep”. It was all about rebirth. That’s what the Recusant’s Sigil and Saïx’s scar should really mean. Isa was “dead” and Xehanort was in total control of his empty vessel.

Axel: Bet you don’t know why the sun sets red. You see, light is made up of lots of colors. And out of all those colors, red is the one that travels the farthest.

But he would have received a birth by sleep and been resurrected, just like in Egyptian mythology. The red sun is a symbol of life and rebirth. Axel’s quote was foreshadowing his trip to the “Underworld” to rescue Isa. As a recusant–a heretic–Isa should have betrayed Xemnas in the final battle before he finished off Lea. Isa’s true redemption was ruined by Roxas and Xion’s return. And then to add insult to injury, they made the Recusant’s Sigil all about Roxas and Xion, too, leaving Saïx totally left out from everything.

The writers definitely had the concept of “rebirth” in mind for Saïx, even back in 358/2 Days.

Same thing as Egyptian mythology. The Sun god brings life and justice. Shamash was the heroic conqueror of darkness and death. He bestowed light and life.

That symbol represents the Sun god and Moon goddess.

The star, which is the Sun, represents rebirth and new life.

Like Osiris, Shamash became judge of the underworld, and he was also regarded as a god who released sufferers from the grasp of demons.

Ishtar was the goddess of life, sexual love, and fertility. She is well-known for her descent into the Underworld.

#kh isa #kh saix #kh leaisa #kh akusai #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts meta

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bemused-writer · 5 years ago

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The Cain Saga Volume 3 - Kafka

Before we get into this volume I just want to let you all know that I had it all written already and then my computer crashed. Thus, this is the rewrite but hopefully it will be better than what came before. 8D

Also, typical warning for the series: it is rated “Explicit” for its themes. Please bear that in mind as you read the review. Also, there are just tons of spoilers here. For my previous reviews, you can find Volume 1 here and Volume 2 here.

The next thing I want to talk about is the glory of this volume cover:

Look at how exceptionally 90s this thing is. The baggy clothes, the overabundance of wrinkles, the broad shoulders, the poses. It’s incredible. There is the slight problem that, if I didn’t know this story took place in the 19th century, I would probably just assume it took place in the 90s or possibly even the 80s. It has a very Anne Rice vibe to it.

Speaking of Anne Rice, those streams of blood on Cain aren’t just for decoration: vampires are very much our theme this volume. As a brief analysis of the cover (outside of its 90s glory) I will point out that while Cain has been bitten by a vampire (a physical representation of corruption or lost innocence) he is also wearing a cross, indicative of an attempt at preventing this from happening on his part. Yet despite his efforts at keeping himself pure he is still brought back to his curse.

A minor thing: in The Cain Saga Cain is shows as having light brown hair for the most part, or at least light brown highlights. This changes in Godchild where he’s almost exclusively shown as having black hair. This is probably just a stylistic change but we could also interpret it as his life getting darker the further he goes.

And finally, a note on the title of the volume, “Kafka.” I haven’t talked about this at all in the previous two reviews, but each volume has a loose theme. In the first one it was “Forgotten Juliet,” a reference to Suzette who tried to win over her Romeo (and failed). The second volume’s theme is nursery rhymes, which is used primarily to demonstrate the loss of innocence and a corrupted childhood. This volume references Franz Kafka, who was known for his surrealist writings that included themes of losing one’s humanity and things of that nature.

And now into the volume itself. I talked a bit about how Riff is someone Cain trusts implicitly in the last volume and the beginning of this one goes out of its way to reiterate that once more. Upon waking up from a nightmare about his father where he’s led to freedom by someone’s hand, wondering whose it could be we see this:

The implication being it’s Riff that leads him out of darkness and back to the light. However, there’s someone to the left trying to overshadow him, and that’s something that this volume really takes a look at: What if Riff wasn’t so trustworthy? What if someone tried to take his place?

The doctor, who introduces himself as “Allen” but who we will refer to as Disraeli because that’s who he is immediately inserts himself into Cain’s life and insists he needs to go to the countryside to restore his health. I’ve always enjoyed this bit of Victorian advice. Have you been ill for weeks? You need to breathe some better air. Honestly, that was probably somewhat true all things considered; smog was a force to be reckoned with.

Disraeli tries to assist Cain with his clothes but he refuses and Mary Weather considers this:

We already know from the previous volume that Cain bears horrible scars on his back from his father’s beatings. This is something he does his hardest to hide from everyone, including Mary Weather. The only person he doesn’t make any attempt to shun in this regard is Riff, who already knows all about it.

Cain ultimately goes to the countryside just as Disraeli suggested and one thing I’m happy to see is how much Cain cares about his little sister, Mary Weather.

Cain has a lot of iffy moments in the series where you really question his opinions and mindset but I’m happy to report that his relationship with Mary Weather is always a source of happiness and remains untainted by all the other crazy things that go on around him (as much as that’s possible, that is).

The trip to the countryside quickly goes awry when night falls when Cain discovers a woman who can only be described as a vampire:

Even as he manages to escape her, he’s attacked by an unidentified assailant upon reaching home whom he leaves a scratch on.

And this is where we start to see why Riff’s honesty is being questioned this volume. Was he the one who attacked Cain at night? Who is the vampire?

Personally, I got a kick out of reading Kaori Yuki’s author’s notes on fan reactions to all of this. Apparently, Disraeli was not popular and she was confused as to why everyone was judging him so harshly when he hadn’t done anything wrong. (This is even more amusing when we get to the end only to discover fans were right.) Furthermore, Riff fans were apparently very unhappy with him being “replaced” with Disraeli and that Riff was being portrayed in a negative light whatsoever. It sounds like Yuki had her hands full with keeping fans content. XD

Fans were also unhappy with Cain’s “player” tendencies this volume (there were some dissatisfied readers! XD). The next morning, Cain meets a boy named Dirk who owns Witherby Castle and swiftly meets his sister, Justine, as well. Turns out, Justine looks exactly like the vampire from the other night. The only difference is that while the vampire was bloodthirsty and appeared to be something of a seductress, Justine is sweet and innocent.

I don’t think there’s a single reader who believes she’s actually innocent of the whole affair and that it’s only made more difficult when you realize she’s so delicate she can’t bear to look at mirrors or be under the sun.

...Yeah, sounds like a vampire.

Cain thought so, too, and decided to test his theory in such a way that led to the fan complaints I mentioned earlier:

She doesn’t immediately try to murder him or drink his blood. She has a very bashful reaction instead, so we can safely assume she is not a vampire (except no one is assuming that).

Cain notes she had a faint scar on her face, which doesn’t completely match the vampire from before. Half of her face had suffered extreme burn marks, so once again there is some difference between Justine and the vampire from before.

He promises to meet her again but I personally think the above panel has Cain looking a great deal more like how he’ll look in Godchild, which is the main reason I’ve included it.

At any rate, her brother is outraged at what Cain has done and immediately asks his sister whether they’ll be together forever or not with an insistence that can only be described as “odd.”

I think I’ve mentioned before in my VNC reviews somewhere that vampires are basically always used to explore something forbidden, especially when it comes to love and this story is no exception. I will point out that Yuki doesn’t really need an excuse to explore forbidden love, but having vampires involved increases the chances that she will by a lot. Needless to say, we’re about to get into some uncomfortable territory.

We see Riff behaving oddly once more by discarding Mary Weather’s hat. He rushes home, she’s fine, but he and Riff have a revealing conversation:

Now, I’m just going to let you all know that they are both, technically, acting right now. They both suspect Disraeli, but they’re going along with things and they’re putting on a performance to make it look like Cain is losing faith in Riff.

However, the amount of truth in this statement as well as the relevance of it all in Godchild is immense. I’ll get more into that when we actually reach Godchild but suffice it to say for now that Cain relies on Riff to an almost unhealthy degree and if anything truly threatened that we would see something very different from this.

Also, I just want to point out once more that you can really see some parallels between Cain and Riff with Ciel and Sebastian from Kuroshitsuji. I would genuinely be shocked if Toboso hadn’t read this series previously. There are some noteworthy differences though: Ciel and Sebastian have a far more confrontation relationship where the master/servant dynamic is largely a facade. Sebastion will win in the end, after all, so in many ways they’re equals but there’s no love lost between them, no matter how much Ciel relies on him and orders him to never lie. With Cain and Riff things are a lot softer: it’s a relationship built on genuine trust and affection but the master/servant dynamic is also a great deal more real as well. Riff is a servant and Cain is an aristocrat. It’s hard to separate them from their roles unlike with Sebastian and Ciel. Still, Cain’s need for Riff to be there and to be loyal to him is just as genuine as Ciel’s.

Getting back to the volume at hand, Justine and Mary Weather prove to be fast friends and suddenly Cain and co. are moving into the castle. Needless to say, Dirk is furious. Furthermore, the amount of people being attacked by that vampire is only increasing and paranoia is mounting.

Disraeli himself sees something strange:

Riff appears to be with a vampiric woman himself. Disraeli thinks of how terrifying her eyes are and proceeds to find Cain, telling him of what he saw. Cain refuses to believe Riff would ever betray him (understandably given he’s in on it) but the exchange he and Disraeli share is important:

The meaning behind what Disraeli is saying is extremely layered. On the first, he’s accusing Riff of being untrustworthy and of that he’s not looking after Cain out of the goodness of his heart but out of something far more malicious. On the second, Disraeli is referring to what he himself is doing: he’s getting closer and closer to Cain, Cain is “trusting” him, and doesn’t realize he’s only there to bring more pain. The third layer is by far the most nefarious and is only truly revealed in Godchild, so I won’t discuss it here just yet.

Cain goes to meet with Justine once more, gives her an earring (one that the vampire had dropped previously, I believe) and departs but her brother, Dirk, is in high dudgeon and it’s revealed that he loves Justine and is jealous of how interested she is in Cain. She refuses him and he says, “Have you really forgotten that night? I was the one who protected you from Father!” He follows up with, “It’s not fair! You forget everything in the daytime, Justine!”

We’re finally starting to sort out what is going on here. Their father has been mysteriously absent, there are rumors of a vampire who was burned at the stake, and there had been a fire earlier on.

Things come to a head with Riff and Cain dismisses him from his employ. He then finally meets the vampire once again, who claims her name is Gertrude.

She notes that his eyes mark him as someone who is just as cursed as they and she offers him eternal life. If he’s going to be cursed, why not get to live forever? And Cain is tempted by the idea. We don’t get to see what his ultimate decision would have been as Disraeli bursts in and chases her away with a cross.

Still, I can’t help but wonder. I don’t think Cain would have accepted. He despises himself for his cursed lineage and views his own existence as a sin. In order to prolong his life in the way Gertrude is suggesting he would have to kill more and more people, thus making his life even more cursed than it was before. I don’t think he could bear that, and so I think he would have refused her.

Afterwards he’s comforted by Disraeli and they have another layered conversation:

On one hand, Cain is telling the truth. He doesn’t like people seeing through him and it’s part of why he goes to such pains to conceal how much pain he endures. But he’s also not being wholly honest; he’s nearly always allowed Riff the privilege of both these things. As for Disraeli, he’s also being honest about watching Cain, but it’s hardly out of the caring concern of a doctor.

Meanwhile, Mary Weather is confronting Riff about leaving. She insists if he only asked, Cain would take him back. That is certainly true if he were actually leaving. But Riff needs to make his departure convincing and so this is what he tells Mary Weather: “Until now I’ve been everything for Lord Cain. I was his mother and his father. We’ve strengthened our bond without even using words.”

He’s laying it pretty thick here but there’s still a lot of truth to it. There would have to be in order for it to be even slightly convincing. Riff is everything to Cain as we’ve talked about before. He’s been there when no one else was. Without him, Cain would be lost.

When Cain next meets with Justine, she begs him to take her away because her brother is looking at her with evil eyes. Cain’s response is a little, uh, not helpful:

Here’s the thing, Cain is not the right person to be talking to about this. He has no idea what a normal relationship even is and as far as he’s concerned, running off with him is not freeing yourself from a cursed relationship.

It would be easy to say he’s thinking of his father and the incestuous relationship he had with his sister that led to Cain’s birth but this appears to be on a different level. Cain isn’t in the habit of defending his father’s horrendous choices in life.

After Dirk reveals the truth of Justine to her (which we’ll talk about momentarily) he and Cain discuss things and it becomes clear why Cain was so particular about what Justine said:

It turns out Suzette wasn’t simply his cousin. I’ll be honest, I completely forgot that tidbit. All I can say is that it’s been awhile since I read this...

At any rate, Cain is admitting he is in no position to be judging Dirk. However, the fact that Cain thinks he’s as bad as his father goes to show how deep his self-loathing is and how much he isn’t considering the entirety of the situation because it honestly isn’t the same. 1) Cain had no idea Suzette was his half-sister until after she’d died. Alexis knew perfectly well what he was doing. 2) Alexis forced himself on Augusta. Cain did no such thing to Suzette.

Cain’s love for Suzette is better likened to Oedipus than to Alexis: he tried really hard to avoid incest but the gods (Yuki) just wouldn’t let him live in peace.

Cain also says “It’s no use. If I’m not related by blood to the woman I’m not capable of loving her. I don’t know how to love.” He declares that he and Dirk both need salvation.

The thing is, Cain doesn’t actually know this for a fact. He’s had multiple flings but he’s never actually stayed in a relationship where he’s in love and his partner loves him in turn. He’s despairing and thinks he knows how things have to be but the fact is he doesn’t.

Honestly, the lack of Riff in this volume becomes pronounced around this point. There’s no one there to try to offer an alternative explanation to Cain or to try to get him to look at things from a different angle. He’s left to his own devices and that means he reaches the worst conclusions possible.

Anyway, going back to what Dirk revealed, it turns out their stepfather had been abusing Justine and had put her through some kind of dark ritual in an attempt to bring Gertrude to life. In other words, another personality was superimposed over her own.

What I don’t like about this is how the narrative kind of frames this as Justine’s fault. She was the one who manipulated Dirk into killing their stepfather (rather understandably, I’d say!) and she was supposedly the one who seduced Dirk. Furthermore, it’s implied she was the one in control of their stepfather as well. Dirk definitely accuses her as if it’s her fault and Cain doesn’t exactly help. Of course, Cain’s perspectives are so skewed as to be useless in this situation, so...

Regardless, it’s implied that she was never a vampire (which I suppose I could believe) but that this was her true self coming through (which I find much harder to believe).

Ultimately, she and her brother burn to death after she goes on a rampage. It’s hard not to feel bad for both of them despite the awkward way this whole thing has been framed. They were both abused by their stepfather and never given a chance to remake their lives. They were trapped from start to finish.

Cain is understandably upset but when Disraeli comes to “comfort” him it’s revealed at long last what he really is: a soul catcher from Delilah. He also reveals he was the one who set the whole thing up along with their stepfather:

Just as Disraeli goes to remove Cain’s eyes, Riff finally makes his reappearance and everything comes to light once and for all:

They “kill” Disraeli and learn a few things from him as well:

Alexis is still alive and Delilah is an organization he’s a part of. Cain tells Riff never to leave him again and we get an idea of just how hard this has been. He’s been without Riff for a long period of time now and he’s witnessed two siblings die during it.

On a lighter note, I enjoyed seeing Riff explain to Mary Weather how he was lying:

Up till now I would have assumed he had no sense of humor but clearly I was mistaken. XD He’s teasing her terribly! It’s also revealed that the vampire Riff had been with earlier had been Cain the whole time, which makes things a lot more amusing as well. Lastly, it’s revealed Disraeli survived, which isn’t all that surprising.

Anyway, that wraps the volume up, and what a volume it was! Rather than tackle multiple short stories, this one had one big story! I enjoyed that it was one story that tackled a lot of things relevant to the plot but there were a few points that could have been smoothed out, notably how harshly everyone was in judging Justine compared to Dirk. The other thing I really wish we got more of is who Suzette was as a person. She only showed up in a singular chapter, but she’s having a profound impact on Cain himself. I think we needed to learn a lot more about her.

The Kafka reference is also a little clearer: neither sibling felt human anymore and Cain hasn’t for a while now. While it’s too late for Dirk and Justine, it isn’t yet for Cain. Perhaps we will see him make some progress in the next two volumes.

#cain saga #count cain #godchild #Bemused's post #long post #manga review

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abbcdailynews · 5 years ago

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That will be the Most readily useful International TV System - Al Jazeera, BBC, CNBC Earth, Or CNN Global

The BBC offer an RSS give with Firefox so you can always get probably the most updated news without examining their homepage. I believe it is of good use simply to see what's going on in the world since it's hard to get the TV on what you would like with household in the house. I do not actually follow politics that much but I normally have an opinion of all things. Frequently, I just visit the Sports or Engineering area because with most media, nothing essential generally happens. When was the last time YOU heard about chicken flu in popular news?

More about the site then... On the left you've a small image of the planet split up into different sections. Click on one of these simple sections to go to a focused site for that the main globe. There you will discover applicable media about this region ranging from information to sports and whatever else they could deem newsworthy. They supply pictures and sometimes movie of the big event which may be pretty cool to watch. Like the among the short-term dams at the Three Gorges Dam in China being supplied up.

That type of provides me onto my next point. The BBC includes a specific page to each country on this here planet. Because we are not discussing China, let us set their's there anyway. And voila. Today as you can see, they give you the country's national anthem, an occasion distinct their record, some related hyperlinks, features... Basically, anything else you can need if you are only performing some standard research on a country.bbc-daily-news.com

It was charged while the writing sensation of 2007 and just like the fireworks of the 4th September or the greatest spell of a scar faced wizard it took the headlines. Depends upon gasped at the final pages of Deathly Hallows and number you could claim these were disappointed. JK Rowling had undoubtedly used it again. People had tried to guess the plot but not a single blogger seemed to obtain everything right. Some were really near but the others missed the mark. One of many greatest writers of illusion fiction had performed the Houdini.

Within hours of the distribution of Deathly Hallows, BBC Media in the UK introduced on the web that they'd discovered the successor to Harry, Ron, Hermione and Voldermort. Now as we shut the pages of the final chapter on the Potter saga, one book that is not also published however is apparently quietly moving itself ahead as a contender for the concept of'Hotter than Potter.'

Since the distribution of Shadowmancer in 2004 in the USA and their rise to the top of the New York Times list, GP Taylor has tucked from the radar of the American book scene. Penguin Putnam printed two further publications, Wormwood got to the dizzy heights of #2 on the charts but Taylor's 3rd guide Tersias the Oracle tucked into shops without the campaign whatsoever. It absolutely was as though Putnam just put it on the market as cheaply as you are able to with no description why.

Many of his supporters did not even know the book was published. Adhering to a death risk, Taylor refused to tour in the USA and there have been rumors in the English press he was sad with the way his books had been launched in the US. All in all it served to keep Taylor beneath the radar. Starved of promotion, readers were hard pressed to get the sequels to Shadowmancer and with little action from Common Pictures on the script of the guide Taylor faded completely. He's on report in saying he believed he could be opportunity useless in Books of Question in New York at a signing.

It was only when evidence copies of his newest novel Mariah Mundi and The Midas Box begun to rotate on eBay that folks again began to take discover of the quiet British author. Potter fans hungry for another book to load the emptiness of Deathly Hallows started initially to rapidly blog concerning the subject before they had actually study it. News was sketchy. Taylor's own site had the book outlined as Mariah Mundi and the Ghost of the Prince Regent, but the name was transformed at the final second before the evidence copies were published.

Now it would seem that every one needs to get your hands on a evidence of the book. One New York dealer has already established countless enquires presently and shops in the UK are taking sophisticated purchases therefore customers may protected first editions. Buddyhollywood.com said, "the formula will there be, tried and tested. Young hero, woman sidekick, wicked villain, perilous plan and hurt in the tail ending. Nothing unusual. In the event that you read Tolkien, Lewis and Rowling the exact same units are in use. But like Harry Potter there is anything wonderful in regards to the boy, Mariah Mundi.

Mundi has missing his parents and it is not known if they are dead. He visited a boarding college in London, from where he was sent at age fifteen to perform in a large and strange hotel in the north of England. All fish out of water material with lots of scary goings to keep you turning the pages.

With lots of'whodunit'placed in (there is a monster at large and an odd field that has the energy to turn daily items to gold and a secret society called The Bureau of Antiquities) that guide includes the large history of CS Lewis and the plot of an Indiana Jones movie. Probably why Hollywood is queuing to have their hands on the rights for the book."

BBC News said on the day of the launch of Deathly Hallows that, "when Harry Potter weighs up his wizard's cloak, booksellers will undoubtedly be trying to GP Taylor's fall discharge, Mariah Mundi - The Midas Box, to help keep the bucks tills ringing."

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tarithenurse · 6 years ago

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Space Nurse 10/11

Fandom(s): Men in Black & MCU! Pairing: fem!reader x Brunhilde x ? Contents: A bit of swearing, some nerves here and there, but nothing too bad. A/N: I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll have to wrap this up or I’ll end up writing an entire saga (and also because not a lot of people are reading it). Thanks for sticking with it so far!

A Room full of People

Staring at the grey door, you aren’t sure what will meet you on the other side. You have an idea of what this is all about, of course: evaluation. Coming to this place, learning what it’s all about while constantly under the scrutiny of Jemma, Jay, and goodness knows who else…well, time has gone by quicker than you’d realized. When you pass through that door, you’ll have to accept the verdict whatever it may be…and it’s making you feel nauseous. The knock on the door is surprisingly firm, and it’s only because you saw your shaking fist connect with the sheer surface that you know it’s your doing. I’m really doing this? The metal of the door handle is cool against your sweaty palm. Fuck it, I’m doing it. Next second you’re opening the door with your head held high and a kind, but professional, smile on your face.

A singular chair is placed within a semicircle made of a table. Along one side of this crescent piece of metallic furniture are nine people seated, and though some are familiar to you (there’s even a few of them that smiles in greeting, the general mood seems to be serious if not downright broody.

“Have a seat.” The tone the middle-aged man uses is curt.

Doing as you’re told, you take the opportunity to look people over as you move to the indicated position in the middle of it all. Costa and Taylor are seated to the left, followed immediately by agent Jay. Then comes the man that has spoken. Gotta be Men in Black too. The sharp suit and matching tie are impeccable, and although the man isn’t exactly the example of perfect physical health, it’s clear that he’s not one to mess with. Neither are the next two men though. One’s slender with neatly defined cheek bones and blue-grey eyes noticing every little detail; his neighbour is both broad and tall (all dressed in black) as he lazies in the chair…but it’s the slight edges of scarring leading under an eye-patch that keeps you wondering what exactly his job description can be. Then there’s a red-haired woman eyeing you in between studying some documents before you finally spot Jemma (who looks oddly uncomfortable) and Hilde (which honestly surprises you). There’s one more chair at the very end of the table as if they’re expecting someone else to participate in what is beginning to look like a jury. I’m so not ready for this!

“Miss [Y/L/N], how are you?” The same man asks, suddenly jovially.

“Fine, thank you,” you lie, “even if I’m surprised at how many are here.”

“Ah, yes, it can seem a bit…overwhelming, I suppose.” You notice the sight nod from Jemma and the perfectly executed eyeroll Hilde makes. “And we’re still one short, I’m afraid. But perhaps we can begin with introducing ourselves?”

The last bit is mainly to the others, it seems, because the dark guy with the patch finally moves to lean forward, elbows resting on the table and fingertips steepled. “Name’s Fury, and I’m not strictly speaking here,” his flinty voice states, “consider me a mediator between these two organizations. I’m neutral ground.”

There’s something about the name that rings a bell. Maybe he used to be something with politics? The American accent and the type of role smells a bit of bureaucracy and government offices, maybe former military. It’s only when the slender man introduces himself as Phil Coulson, the director of SHIELD, that the penny drops. Two generations of super-serious hero-business and supposedly covert operations and the former handlers of the Aveng–wait a minute! Shifting a glance to the red-head, your suspicion is confirmed a moment later by the woman herself. Natasha Romanoff (or, as you’ve once read in the newspaper: Natalia Romanova). Former spy and assassin, now the idol of many girls and women because she’s helped save the day more than once. And she’s cool. Going the other way, the man that had first spoken introduces himself as “Alpha”, which has got to be the most uninventive codename of the century. Alpha…”A”…it’s not Jay, it’s “J”…doh. But creative or not, the guy has a lot of power and his opinion ways heavy in regards to what’s going to happen with you.

Alpha looks at his watch and then over at Hilde, silently asking her something but the only answer’s a shrug. “Well…” he sighs, “might as well begin, we don’t know how long it’ll be bef–“

The director of MiB is interrupted by the door bursting open so hard it ricochets back off the wall and closes again leaving the room dead silent. On the second attempt it stays open to let Mr. Smith in, looking absolutely livid.

“She’s not her!” An accusatory finger is pointing at you, trembling with each heaving breath. He must’ve run.

“I’m not?”

“She’s not?” several other voices echo.

#Space Nurse #mib/mcu #Reader x Brunhilde #Mcu #Men in Black #marvel cinematic universe #jemma simmons #alpha #Nick Fury #natasha romanoff #Agent Coulson #agent jay #Brunhilde #reader

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enzelffxiv · 6 years ago

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trial n origin!

ORIGIN: If your character is formally a Scion of the Seventh Dawn, how did they join the organization? If they aren’t a Scion, do they know of the Scions?

-WoL Imry technically started in Ul'dah, but with some variation. When she set off to become an adventurer at 17, she got off her parents’ ship at Vesper Bay and pretty much walked all the way to the city, doing some odd jobs on the way. (It was Akiv'a, my partner’s character, who ended up on the same carriage with the twins instead.) Joined the adventurers’ guild, etc.

However, at some point before the whole stolen crown business she took a quest that sent her to Vylbrand and met Akiv'a there. Whether it was fate or other machinations that the two of them both had the Echo–either way they ended up confronting the Ascian mage/golem together. They then split up and she returned to Uldah, finished the intro storyline, was recruited by Thancred (and Akiv'a by Y'shtola).

-the timeline splits here depending on whether she or someone else goes on to become the WoL. If she remains a regular Scion, she doesn’t get sent to Ifrit etc. Ends up nearly dying during the Waking Sands massacre. (That’s another story.)

-otherwise, if she doesn’t have the Echo she just keeps on helping out the Adventurers’ Guild. This is the timeline I’ve fleshed out the least since i wanted to keep it open-ended in the event i ever get the time or courage to actually rp with other people :p

And that segues into: (Spoilers thru Stormblood MSQ ahead)

TRIAL: Are there any duty instances that had a particular impact on your character (primal fights, dungeons, raids, etc.)?

-Imry & Akiv'a got sent on the mission that ended up in them confronting Ifrit together. The two of them still didn’t know each other too well, what with Akiv'a taking a while to warm up to people in general. However, when things went wrong and primals got summoned…

Ifrit’s flames triggered Akiv'a’s Calamity-induced PTSD, and he froze on the spot and dissociated badly. Imry managed to fight Ifrit alone with a spear she grabbed off an Amalj'aa, her protective instincts unconsciously drawing from her Crystal of Light and giving her strength she wouldn’t usually have.

That fight is also where she got the scar on her left cheek. (As well as some others on her shoulders and various other places, but the face scar is the most visible given that she tends to wear full armor.)

She insisted on carrying a barely-responsive Akiv'a back to Drybone and refused to leave his side until he was able to function on his own again. Their relationship was still a bit awkward, but that was definitely the turning point where they started to grow closer.

Interestingly, Akiv'a was able to confront some of his trauma in gaining his Ifrit egi on his own, and in some ways that summon has become his favourite. He keeps Ifrit out even when not in battle much of the time, and Imry…talks to it like they’re buddies. They’re both weirdos.

-at the end of Castrum Abania, in addition to injuring Alisaie, Fordola managed to give Imry a nasty concussion before fleeing, putting her out of commission for a time. Even with some excellent healers she was unable to help with the confrontation in the lab.

Used to being able to charge back in to battle after a few days of bedrest, she got extremely restless and ended up arguing with Akiv'a about going with him to fight Zenos. He, of course, was less than happy about the idea of losing another friend after everyone they’d already lost, and was shaken from seeing her so badly hurt. They eventually compromised by having Keten come along to watch her back, essentially. (I think we’re still working out the details of how that fight went because Zenos is way more interested in Akiv'a than her.)

-speaking of Zenos: the duties where he kicks your ass were extremely demoralizing for her. Imry takes her tank role pretty seriously, hence *gestures at entire DRK storyline and how Keten is a manifestation of her regret over being unable to protect her friends at the end of ARR*. Imry also doesn’t have a soul crystal of her own, which means despite her Crystal of Light she’s disadvantaged in that way. She joined the gladiator’s guild for a time and got some training from other various sources, but never did the Paladin quests, and eventually gave the DRK soul crystal to Keten so they could be independent. She has some natural conjury ability that’s boosted by her Echo & has used it to improvise her own techniques (various implementations of aether shields, using wind magic to toss her physical shield around Capt. America style…) but she doesn’t follow a formal discipline of any kind.

In contrast, while Akiv'a is less than half her size, he’s kind of a powerhouse; some of this is because he pushes himself way too hard and uses his aether recklessly, and has the tendency to go a bit berserk when angry. (being able to channel the elder primal who killed half his family and use it to wreak havoc on his enemies does interesting things to the psyche.) It’s very unhealthy but regardless, Imry compares herself to him without meaning to. Since HW she’s gotten better at adjusting and accepting failure, but she still struggles with it. And of course, Zenos is *meant* to knock the WoL down a few pegs…

That’s why finally beating him is something she’s so fixated on, especially because he represents the antithesis of all her personal ideals. She cannot understand him no matter how much she tries, the same reason he finds her completely boring. Subconsciously his fixation on Akiv'a, her best friend, and the fact that it seems to be reciprocated somewhat, is highly distressing to her.

In the end his defeat is highly unsatisfying and leaves her feeling more uncertain than ever. I’m quite interested in what SHB has to offer in that regard.

There’s a lot of context surrounding her state of mind; to be blunt, i write Imry using a lot of my own experiences growing up with undiagnosed ADHD, excelling in some areas and struggling badly in others, and the weight of people’s expectations. She’s young and impulsive and is used to getting by on her instincts and physical prowess, but devalues her own intelligence because she never had the patience for traditional book learning. Mid-SB is where she starts to progress in maturity and emotional regulation, and seeks out learning to balance her weaknesses, spurred on by defeat.

-On a lighter note…she got really fucking excited about the whole Four Lords thing. She loves fighting but she doesn’t like *hurting* people, which is a bit contradictory. But the concept of “hey fighting these guys will *help* them” was…right up her alley.

-she met her girlfriend, a sky pirate, during the Void Ark saga. :p

#enzel.txt #imry ceigwardwyn #rp meme #i may have gotten a little carried away #thankfully all the images were stuff I already had done lol

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cyberpunkpsychedelia-blog · 6 years ago

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@CYBERPUNKPSYCHEDELIA

CONDITIONS –– August 10 @ 11:44:57 a.m.

You awake to the blunt force of unfiltered daylight on your face, the hollow moan of city traffic sounding far below this tenement cube like a distant flushing toilet. Oft you have lamented how trees do not grow, birds do not chirp at these heights.

As you rub your eyes you are privileged to witness the awesome –– if not rather stomach-churning, when it takes you by surprise –– sight of her transmogrification, the split second it takes her to collapse her humanoid frame and resume her form as a cat.

She leaps onto the desk across the room where she sits for a moment, licks herself, and yawns. She regards you with starry green eyes, unblinking and inscrutable to you –– but which you always vaguely perceive, somehow, to be scrutinizing you.

And in a flash of paranoia, as you stare back at her stupidly thru sleep-crusted eyeballs, you wonder if she might only be staring at you to cause you to project whatever insecurities you might have back onto yourself, and then you cannot decide which of these postulations would be the preferable one –– her judging you or her trolling you –– and anyway you reflect that if either were the case (or, for that matter, if neither of them were), the effect would all still be the same…

Indeed you do not know what goes on in her mind in these moments. But you will never presume to ask, and she will never tell.

Your head hurts. You close your eyes. Eventually, she jumps from the desk to the bed, steps on your face and, pausing not so much to intimate a goodbye as to command that you appreciate the drama, jumps out the window.

And so you are left to dwell alone in your lowly airborne pod. But as you roll over in the sheets, your thoughts quickly latch on to her, and they hitch-hike with her out the window. The image is clear enough:

Having fallen a few hundred feet through the air and landed deftly on her paws like the best of feline acrobats, in a single flowing movement she recalls her human form and unlocks and mounts her hoverbike which was chained to the tree outside your apartment.

She dons her gas-mask, conjured seemingly from thin air (breathing is hazardous to pedestrians in this locale, where the fumes have reached peak levels of toxicity). It is heavily worn, all decked out with astrological stickers and painted over crudely with pink lipstick. Straddled over the bike seat in a printed flower skirt and black stockings, hers is a loud image –– poster child for this bold new century.

She wrenches the throttle and barrels over the curb onto the street.

Now, as she makes her way to the club in Center City where she labors daily for her wages, you worriedly reflect that she is now at the mercy of the grid: Baffling assemblage of lighted conveyor belts zipping this way and that at arbitrary speeds, teeming with cargo and people, where a single wavering misstep along your urban odyssey and a blink of the eye could suddenly find you ten blocks south of where you were just standing only moments ago.

For the commuter, the grid adds a valence of radical uncertainty to a journey already fraught with fatal obstacles: You can see her right now, booking down Chestnut Street, head on a swivel, dodging flung-open car doors, tunneling thru clouds of exhaust, careening upstream along this main artery in a sea of traffic where middle fingers and shouted obscenities fly freely out of car windows from every direction.

For 2100 woolongs an hour at the club (on average, with tips), she knows the stakes on this journey are high. But it’s as if the very ground beneath her is working against her, and she begins to wonder, as she often does, if this is all really worth it: Without warning along this strip, potholes open up into sinkholes, gaping hungrily like rips in the fabric of spacetime, plunging full city buses into the abyss. Human screams join the chorus.

And as if this were not enough, the grid, an internationally-sanctioned entity and thus not subject to the local laws of physics, periodically cuts through her path at impossible angles like an interdimensional guillotine, always threatening to whisk her away some place she does not particularly care to go: a bullet-train to Fresno, a people-chute to Hong Kong.

To protect the city’s most vulnerable commuters from the daily carnage, the city of Philadelphia has gone to lengths to establish a bike lane on each street.

But over the years, the lane has been encroached upon, inches at at time, by a steady influx of street vendors pushing their wares, hundreds of kiosks spilling over the sidewalks. In this way, the tiny strip of concrete has become a site of contestation between two parties, and both sides have suffered losses: Bodies displaced into the street, split in half between crashed cars or otherwise ripped apart in spectacular displays of gore.

The roadways in this forsaken metropolis are painted with the blood of the multitudes.

As for her, she harbors no real beef with the street vendors. She will not debase herself to choose a side in such petty human squabbles. She knows too well by now how every death will inevitably become a casualty in someone else’s war, and this is a violence that she refuses to perpetuate. The battle she wages is with the forces of a higher order, transcending these earthly divisions.

And so she dips in and out of traffic with a silent grace, maneuvering deftly through the maze of kiosks, taking care to avoid any stray banana or rolling citrus that might send her tumbling into the onslaught to take up final residence in the Boneyard (local name bestowed to the median near the expressway at 30th and Chestnut –– a tangled mess of mangled bodies and rusted bike frames).

She dips into a back alley at 23rd Street. She is relieved to have reached her destination unscathed, and with a few minutes to spare. She chains her bike to a pole at the backdoor of the restaurant. Once more she conjures her feline shape to carry out a ritual which all members of her scattered race are compelled to perform before crossing new thresholds.

She stalks in a circular movement like she is hunting something you cannot see, tracing intricate patterns in the ground with her paws. The signs glow with a strange luminescence, opening channels of dire communication with ancient deities whose names have been lost with the passing of so many millennia.

She sits and licks herself, staring at the ground. Eventually, she stops moving altogether, and you perceive that in this back alley she has momentarily dropped off the dimensional plane. She is outside of time, somewhere else, scaling some other axis. Those twinned orbs of radioactive green… Again they are inscrutable to you, but as you stare and ponder over this curious figure, your astral body casting its vague kind of shadow over her, you slowly arrive at the rather stomach-churning realization that this whole time she has been sitting there she has, in fact, been staring directly back at you.

Your presence has been detected! Your thoughts have collided at some fated point of tangency in the cosmos! The connection is precious, but it is fleeting. She slinks around a dumpster and with that, she disappears from your sight.

You open your eyes, wrenched back into your bed, and you are reminded of your own wretched condition. O you! beastly creature, who has lost his way completely to literature and pornography!

In a claustrophobic panic you lean out the window, inhaling deeply the fumes of the afternoon. But this offers you little comfort as you survey the scars of the city below, reflecting on all the ruin the world has exacted –– which is to say, yourself. You reflect on yourself. You are the ruin the world has exacted, disavowed, and finally cast outside of its orbit –– or at least this has been your suspicion as of late. Indeed you have dimly perceived the heights you maintain in your floating pod to be increasing with each rotation around the sun; daily you feel yourself further adrift of the Earth’s gravitational field.

The distance has, in fact, become rather harrowing. For it was Heraclitus who said you cannot step into the same river twice: The river changes, yes, as the current rushes headlong in its velocity –– but this is not the point. The point is that you, yourself, will have also changed in the interval. Never the same river, never the same you. This is either a utopian thought, or one that is terrifying in the extreme.

Ultimately, though, it was Bolaño who was able to grasp the full implication of Heraclitus’s existential musings when he spoke of the condition of exile: “Probably all of us,” says Bolaño, “set out into exile, or at least into a certain kind of exile, when we leave childhood behind.” In other words, all of us who are born into this world are at risk, someday, of never being able to go back home. This is the risk that the condition of exile implies. Thus we have Heraclitus’s warning brought to its fullest expression: It is the extent to which you yourself change that will determine, after so many nights of errantry, whether or not there is a home for you to go back to at all…

These are your conditions at 12 o’clock in the afternoon, as you look upon the city from your unlucky vantage in the stratosphere. Star among stars, you feel, somehow, exhausted –– but with a glimmer, nevertheless, of satisfaction, or hope, perhaps, as some other person might feel after having completed a jigsaw puzzle. You bring your head back inside and climb into bed.

You close your eyes and wait longingly for a scratch at the window.

Follow me @cyberpunkpsychedelia where the saga continues.

Hi My Name Is Noah, your faithful assembler of data, transmitted from the roof of a tenement cube via satellite cobbled together from space junk.

Dear reader, whenever you are, I hope this missive finds you well.

#cyberpunk #vaporwave #scifi #science #philadelphia #fiction #writer #writers on tumblr #writeblr #futuristic #art

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theshatteredrose · 7 years ago

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The Treasure Seeker - Saga 1 (Etrian Odyssey 5 Fanfiction)

AN: This chapter turned out a little longer than expected, but I’m pleased with it nonetheless. I’m also pleased that I’ve managed to maintain my schedule. Hopefully with Christmas coming up, I’ll still be writing and posting~ Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter and do let me know if you like it~

Wattpad | AO3 | FFNet

Chapter 5:

The Crescentia was a hell of a lot bigger than Drayce had anticipated. There were more rooms on the first floor he didn’t know about and there appeared to be at least fifteen, yes fifteen bedrooms on the second floor.

So, yes, this place could easily bed thirty people at once. A hell of a lot more if you had to. Hell, if sleeping on the floor was an option, the seating room alone could easily sleep thirty people in futons.

This place was massive.

Why was it so big? Ah, who cares!

“This is like a prelude to the labyrinth,” Blayke complained as he followed Drayce around as he continued his inspection of the first floor. “What could possibly be on the third floor? Wait, does this place have a basement and an attic, too?”

Such good questions!

“This is so awesome,” Drayce said almost giddily. “Can you imagine the treasures that are possibly hidden in here? I bet Dad and Grandpa found a shit-tonne of stuff themselves. Oh man, I really need to catalogue this place or something.”

“After you finish the first mission,” Blayke grumpily chimed in.

“Yes yes, no need to remind me every five seconds, Blakie.”

“Stop calling me Blakie.”

“Stop being such a fusspot.”

Blayke glared at him as he huffed, though made no attempt to rebuke him. Instead he turned his attention to their next room to inspect and grasped the handle tightly. He twisted it and paused. His brow furrowed as he twisted the handle again before his uttered a noise of frustration.

“It’s locked,” he said.

Drayce shrugged as he reached into an inside pocket of his coat. “No problem. I’ll just pick the lock.”

“Do you really carry your lock-picking kit with you everywhere?” Blayke asked with a tone that was a mixture of incredulous and exasperation.

“Naturally,” Drayce replied as he pulled out a wallet size leather kit and with a flick of his wrist, opened it and pulled out a thin pin. “What’s the point of coming across a locked chest if you can’t open it?”

Blayke simply snorted in response and chose to say nothing more. Instead he leaned against the wall next to the door and folded his arms, waiting to watch Drayce go to work. Drayce didn’t find that at all unusual. Despite his grumpiness, he did find the thought of treasure hunting interesting.

Drayce will get him as obsessed with the idea one day.

Crouching down, Drayce balanced the lock picking kit on his knee as he inspected the lock before him. He could see clear through to the other side, indicating that there wasn’t anything jamming it nor was there a key in the other side. Now all he needed to do was to figure how to best move the tumblers to open the door.

Should only take a few seconds.

With a bit of twisting and pulling, poking and prodding, Drayce finally heard that satisfying ‘click’ of the tumblers falling into place and the door creaking.

“See? Piece of cake,” Drayce said in triumph as he quickly put away his lock-picking tools and placed them into the pocket of his jacket. With them hidden safely where they belong, he pushed himself to his feet and pushed the door open further to allow for him and Blayke to enter the room.

The room was dark as there appeared to be thick curtains covering the windows. There was also a light musty smell, probably due from being locked up and unused for so long.

And as Drayce looked around the room, he soon realised what it was used for. The bed in the corner, the strange mechanical equipment, the shelves of bottles. Despite it being locked up for a few years at least, there was still a distinct disinfectant smell in the air.

It was a clinic.

Yeah, an actual clinic.

He couldn’t help but wonder why such an important room was locked up.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting this,” Drayce said as walked over to a cabinet and looked through the glass where rows of marked medica bottles could be seen. “Though having a clinic like room at the guildhouse would make sense.”

“Only if you know how to use it,” Blayke added. “I wonder how old these bottles are, though. And if they’re safe to use.”

“Yeah, good point,” Drayce said as he reasoned with himself not to touch anything.

Yeah, not wanting to physically lay his hands on something was difficult for someone like him, but honestly, he really didn’t want to mess around with any of this medical stuff. He may not know much about the medicine and disinfectant chemicals, but better safe than sorry.

“I wonder if I could get Fiorello to check this place out later,” Drayce mused. “If these are dangerous to our health, a professional like him would be better equipped to deal with it, right?”

“Why don’t you ask him to join the guild?” Blayke unexpectedly asked him.

“Nah,” Drayce replied as he moved away from the cabinet and carefully made his way out of the room so not to disturb anything. “He has a sore spot in regards to explorers. Understandable from what I’ve learned. I mean, if he wants to join, that’s his choice, but I’m not going to force him.”

Blayke followed him out and closed the door behind him. “Ok, so the first floor has a seating area, a dining room, a kitchen, a clinic, and two other seemingly empty, miscellaneous rooms. And the second floor appears to be the sleeping quarters with three bathrooms. What is left that would be on the third floor?”

Drayce held his chin in thought. “Knowing Grandpa, there’s possibly a library, drawing room, treasure room, weapon storage room, and a something akin to a games room for just hanging out. Oh, and probably a bar because he did like the occasional drink.”

Blayke stared at him for a moment before he made an exasperated expression and ran his hand over his face. “This is ridiculous,” he said. “This guildhouse is massive. It has all the facilities that our entire village back home did! What are we going to do with all this space?”

Now, Blayke was exaggerating a little. The guildhouse wasn’t as big as their village. Maybe half the size? From what he had seen so far at least.

Drayce shrugged carelessly. “To be fair, the third floor and possible attic is probably filled with useless trinkets and doodads.”

That, for some reason, didn’t thrill Blayke all that much. “Brilliant,” he muttered under his breath.

“Don’t worry too much about it,” Drayce said as he slapped Blayke on the back in an effort to knock him out of his grumpy mood. “Once we start bringing in guildmates, we’ll be happy to have all this space. At least we won’t get in each other’s way.”

“We could lose guildmates in here! Disappear to be never seen again!”

Drayce laughed. “Come on, it’s not that bad. Better than being lost to the labyrinth, yeah?”

Now, what should he do next?

As interested as he was to explore the third floor and all the mysterious rooms, he wanted to check in on Fiorello to see if their unnamed patient had awakened at all. He was pretty sure he had improved somewhat, enough not to cause any alarm, but hopefully he would awaken soon.

“Hey, I’m just going to check in on Fiorello and the kid,” Drayce said as he made his way over to the stairs. “If you find anything else interesting, let me know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Blayke responded idly as he shooed him away.

With a nod of acknowledge, Drayce turned on his heel and headed upstairs. As he climbed the stairs, he found his thoughts unwittingly drifting to that chance encounter in the street that led him to Fiorello’s door.

Zohar, the necromancer, had been a peculiar man, but nice and harmless all the same. He wondered if he lived with Fiorello and if they were friends or merely acquaintances. Fiorello obviously wasn’t a part of a guild, so could he assume the same of Zohar? If not, why not?

He definitely piqued his curiosity.

As he reached the top step Drayce pulled himself out of his thoughts and quickly made his way to the closest room, the one with the door slightly ajar. He knocked on it once lightly before he pushed it open and stepped into the room.

Fiorello was sat in a chair at the foot of the bed, seemingly reading to pass the time while the white wolf that was the loyal companion to the unnamed Therian sat by his bed, his head resting on the bed near the young man’s arm. The wolf barely acknowledged Drayce’s presence while Fiorello lifted his head to look at him.

“Hey, just checking up on the patient,” Drayce said as he moved further into the room to pause near the bed.

He took a moment to study the young patient and noted with relief that he didn’t appear as red or sweaty as previous. Whatever medicine Fiorello had concocted for him seemed to have worked wonders. His breathing even seemed easier.

Good.

“He should actually be waking up soon,” Fiorello said as he closed his book. “He responded quickly to the medicine. However the dehydration and malnutrition can’t be as cured as easily.”

Drayce had figured as much.

“Um, hey?” Drayce said as he turned his full attention to Fiorello. “Do you mind if I ask you a question about Zohar? He seems protective of you.”

Fiorello rolled his eyes as he set his book aside. Although that action is usually accompanied by an expression of exasperation, he had a look of fondness on his face. “He feels that he owes me.”

Drayce blinked. “Owe?”

“A situation similar to this, honestly,” Fiorello replied as he leaned back into his chair. “I found him on the outskirts of town, sick injured and barely alive. I managed to talk a guard into dragging him to my place. He had…quite a few injuries. Honestly, I wasn’t sure he would make it. To say he was in bad shape would be an understatement.”

Drayce didn’t know how to respond to that. The knot of sympathy and surprising worry in his stomach made it difficult to think of anything worthwhile in response. All those scars he saw…were they the result of his near death? They were so…bad. Deep. He…

“He had a strong will,” Fiorello continued as a wry smile appeared on his lips. “He was alone so and no one came for him, so I was kinda stuck with him.”

…No one came for him? That was…unfair. So unfair.

“I…I see,” Drayce muttered. “To be honest, I don’t know what to say. I had no idea. But…he’s all right now, right?”

Fiorello gave him a peculiar look. “As all right as a necromancer can be.”

Before Drayce could ask him what he meant by that a soft groan of disorientation and discomfort was heard from the direction of the bed. Immediately Drayce snapped his attention in their patient’s direction, noting that the wolf, too, had sat up straight, full attention to the one lying on the bed.

Drayce made his way closer to the bed, but not too close so that he would appear intimidating or menacing in anyway. He waited patiently, but quietly as the purple and blue haired Therian slowly pulled himself out of his post sleep haze.

He rolled his head to the side and furrowed his brow. “Nashoba,” he croaked out as he lifted his hand toward the softly whimpering wolf. “Where-?”

His eyes then suddenly widened upon realising that he was in a room and bed he obviously didn’t recognised. Despite it being bad for his health, he sat up straight and with wide, panicking eyes looked around the room.

“Hey, stop moving,” Fiorello said in a scolding tone. “You’re going to make yourself faint again.”

The kid abruptly stopped moving, only snapping his head in Fiorello’s direction. His mouth dropped open in surprise and he seemed unable to form any words. Drayce immediately took pity on him and was about to explain to him what had happened and that he was safe, but was cut off by Fiorello.

“When was the last time you ate or drank?” Fiorello asked him in a manner that was honestly close to that of a parent figure; scolding with subtle concern. “How about the last time you slept comfortably? How you could let yourself get this sick is beyond me.”

The kid snapped his mouth shut and seemed to shrink back into the pillows of the bed, his ears folding back meekly. Fiorello, however, wasn’t finished.

“You’re lucky that this guy was the one to find you,” Fiorello said as he smacked Drayce’s leg with the back of his hand, never taking his gaze off of the young rover. “You owe him one hell of a thanks, kiddo. Anyone else would have dumped you at the inn and to that scatterbrained inn-keeper, no offense to her family. If they bothered with you at all.”

Ok, the kid looked really meek. The poor thing. Really, Drayce felt sorry for him. He also made the mental note not to piss off the dedicated botanist. At all.

“Honestly, you need a minder,” Fiorello finished with a huff as he folded his arms across his chest. “Kids these days.”

The kid flushed deeply, and it wasn’t from the fever. “S-sorry…”

Drayce gave him a hopefully reassuring smile. “Really, it’s fine. You haven’t been a bother. My guildhouse has plenty of room. What’s your name? My name is Drayce and the dedicated healer here is Fiorello.”

“I, ah, m-my name is Faelen,” he replied as he pinched the hem of the bedsheet between his finger and thumb in a fidgeting manner as he indicated to the white wolf with his other hand. “And this is Nashoba.”

“Well, Faelen,” Drayce said as he moved closer and sat himself down onto a chair that was close to the bed. “Despite the circumstances, it’s nice to meet you. Your wolf companion hasn’t left your side for even a second.”

Faelen nodded his head as he reached out with a hand and idly ran his fingers through white wolf’s fur. “Nashoba is normally very protective of me,” he said as he turned his gaze to Drayce to look at him curiously. “I’m…a little surprised that he let you get close.”

Drayce gave him a light shrug. “Nashoba must have known that I meant no harm. Which was lucky for me because, honestly, even if he didn’t like, I couldn’t have left you there.”

With one hand still stroking Nashoba’s coat, Faelen lifted his other hand to touch his forehead and he furrowed his brow in thought. “I fainted?”

“Right in front of me,” Drayce replied.

“I don’t remember,” Faelen muttered, to which earned him a scoff from Fiorello.

“You never do, do you?”

“I’m really sorry,” Faelen said as he dropped his hand from his forehead and turned to look at Drayce, his cheeks flushed and his lips twisted into a cute but apologetic pout. “I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble. I’m even taking up room. I’m sorry.”

Drayce held up his hand, somewhat concerned by how apologetic the young rover truly seemed to be. He wasn’t just apologizing for causing trouble (which, honestly, he wasn’t) but because he saw himself as a burden. Drayce wasn’t entirely sure if his assumption was right, but it felt right to him.

“Easy now,” he said. “As I said, it’s fine. My guildhouse has plenty of room. I mean, plenty of room.”

From what he had seen so far and with still so much left to explore of his own guildhouse, to say he had plenty of room was really an understatement.

“But you don’t know me,” Faelen murmured with an innocently confused expression.

Drayce had to bite back a sigh. He wasn’t going to go into that again. “Where I come from, helping others is completely normal. I may be new to Iorys, but I’m not going to stop being reasonable.”

Sheeeeeeeeeeeeesh. Was helping others without reward or gain really that much of a confusion and troubling concept to understand?

Faelen seemed to perk up a little for some reason. “You’re new here, too?” he asked with a slight sense of excitement in his voice. “So are we. We’ve been here a few days, but…”

Faelen then suddenly looked downcast and he dropped his gaze to his hand on his lap. Immediately, Drayce felt a sense of concern bubble in his chest.

“Did something happen?” he asked as he furrowed his brow.

“No one wanted to take us into their guilds,” Faelen replied with a defeated sigh as his ears drooped slightly. “They wouldn’t say why, just no. They wouldn’t even give us a chance.”

Drayce really couldn’t understand why.

“How old are you, kiddo?” Fiorello suddenly asked.

“I’m fifteen,” Faelen answered.

Fiorello hummed as he held his chin in thought. “Hm, young, but I’ve seen younger. Maybe these guilds you approached were simply assholes? There’s honestly a few of them around.”

Surprisingly, Drayce felt a surge of protectiveness. The reason why they didn’t take Faelen into their guilds there and then was probably because he wasn’t what they were looking for at that very moment. Or their previous rover teammate hadn’t panned out the way they wanted, so wanted another more ‘useful’ class or something.

Of course he could wrong, but that was just the gut feeling he got. And his dad always told him to trust his gut.

“Faelen,” Drayce said as he gained the young rover’s attention. “I want you to join my guild.”

Faelen’s ears perked up straight and he all but whirled around to face Drayce. His mouth dropped open ever so slightly as he stared at him, speechless. After a second or so he managed to gather himself and an expression of genuine relief mixed with cautiousness appeared on his face.

“Really?” he asked.

“You need to enter the labyrinth, right?” Drayce returned. “Whatever the reason, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, but you do need to enter otherwise you wouldn’t have been neglecting your health by trying to enter another guild.”

Faelen looked unjustifiably guilty. “Well, yeah…”

“So do I,” Drayce continued. “I only moved here yesterday and I haven’t had the chance to register with the guildmaster yet, but I will. I need to enter the labyrinth for special reasons, too.”

Drayce paused for a moment as he thought back to the reasons why he needed to enter. Surely the two before him could be trusted with that information. Especially if he wanted one of them to enter his guild as his guildmate. He honestly wanted Fiorello to become a member to because he would feel more at ease having a talented and dedicated healer on his side.

He could also see that both Fiorello and Faelen looked intrigued. So it should be ok. Blayke might bitch at him later, but he was just protective.

“I come from a long line of treasure hunters,” Drayce said as he waved a hand idly at their surroundings. “This place is known as the Crescentia, a guildhouse that has belonged in my family for generations. My grandfather gave me the deed a little while ago before launching himself into another adventure.”

Drayce paused for a moment to think about his wild and eccentric but still loving grandfather. He hoped that he was out having the adventure of his life. And was staying out of trouble.

Nah, knowing him, he was getting into all sorts of mischief. Well, that was fine, as long as he came to visit and to tell him everything that he had seen and experienced.

Drayce shook his head slightly to focus himself. “This place isn’t the reason why I’m here, though. I was summoned here by Prince Ramus himself for a special purpose.”

Faelen uttered a soft gasp of surprise while Fiorello made a slight hum of intrigue. “Prince Ramus, you say? Well, you must be here for an important purpose indeed.”

“He wishes for me to find information or the locations on the Lost Treasures of the Legendary War,” Drayce answered with a grin. “Of course, I will need to successfully complete the first mission that the Council Hall issues to all new explorers, hence the reason why I need some trusted guildmates to help me. Soooo, how about it?”

“I’ll help!” Faelen eagerly answered.

Drayce’s smile grew a little bigger and he leaned forward to ruffle Faelen’s hair between his ears, earning himself a tiny embarrassed squeak from him. Let he didn’t pull away and he didn’t seem to detest the display in anyway.

“Glad to hear it,” Drayce said. “Welcome to Guild Angelward then, Faelen. We just need a couple more members before we can enter the labyrinth, so take this time to get rid of your fever, ok?”

A precious smile appeared on Faelen’s lips and he looked both happy and intensely relieved. Honestly, seeing that expression made Drayce glad that he had agreed to join his guild and he hadn’t been taking in by someone else. Those guilds that turned him down didn’t deserve him.

“Well, I’ve made up my mind,” Fiorello suddenly stated, seemingly making up his mind about an important decision. “Guild Angelward, was it? Well, that’s a worthy guild for me, too.”

Drayce removed his hand from Faelen’s hair to look at the botanist with an expression of surprise on his face. “You want to join?”

Fiorello folded his arms across his chest and gave Drayce a truly cheeky smile. “After all this talk about treasure and royal missions, you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

Honestly, that was a relief! He just needed to find one more willing explorer to join and he would have a recommended party of five. But…

“What about Zohar?”

“Hmm,” Fiorello made a sound that was similar to that of a chuckle. “He tends to do his own thing. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know I agreed to join a guild, even though the hypocrite refuses to join one himself.”

That…was a little disappointing. Would he really be ok with Fiorello joining? Maybe Drayce could talk him into joining as well, so that he…wouldn’t be alone. No one should be alone like that.

“Well, I’m glad you chose to join,” Drayce smiled brightly. “Now I can confidently tell you about the clinic we have here without feeling like I’m trying to bribe you into joining.”

Fiorello arched an eyebrow at him. “You have a private clinic? How big is this place?”

“Not a clue! But I’m going to have fun finding out!”

#Etrian Odyssey #etrian odyssey 5 #fanfiction #The Treasure Seeker #angelward guild

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gawaine · 7 years ago

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by popular demand: welcome to the saga of Fuckboy Supreme

*sigh* aka i’m dumb, what’s new

i’m going to try and keep this short bc ffs

Fuckboy Supreme (FS for short). Mr Popular of my cohort. hangs out at the back w/ the rest of the rugby boys. blonde, blue eyed... not my type.

i’d identified him as the FS of the year early on and Blonde Pop and I established that he, and my other friend Steffan, were probably the two best looking single guys in our course (not saying much). I heard that he was from money and was clearly trying to hide it (E much?) and I saw a lot of similarities. he was interesting to watch every now and then but I didn’t think we’d ever really cross paths.

except one day, we end up thrown together in clin. skills, alongside his best friend + housemate (Human Shield, for future reference. he becomes important later) and we kind of chat and lo and behold, he’s actually a pretty chill guy? nice enough to talk to. to the point where I tell my friends this (we all sit together down at the front) and I shock both FS and HS when I see them around and say hi (after HS and I spend a hospital shift together on NICU). more importantly, in that clin. skills session, me and HS are meant to “watch [FS] closely” to give feedback and I notice that this dude’s legs are absolutely insane, sculpted out of effing marble, and that same day, he’s happy to whip off his shirt (we’re doing resp. exams) and keep it off as he talks to someone. and I see he has a scar on his shoulder and ofc bc ME I’m like “omg sO PRETTY AND CLEAN” and he lets me basically play around with his weird af shoulder (old injury, post-surgery) as he chats to one of our tutors and I’m chatting to another tutor about the scarring. and he smells clean and he’s not super sculpted, as one would expect, but he’s lean in a natural, soft kinda way and i’m like okay, cool. and we chat a little and he’s nice about me not having a science background and w/e.

weeks go by, we say hi every now and then. then I slowly become obsessed with his legs.

it’s a slow process but the boy keeps walking into lectures, right by my seat to get to his, and he wears shorts and seriously... l e g s. but I’m wary of this so I’m happy to objectify him and for a time it works; idgaf if he notices (he doesn’t) and my friends find it hilarious, but I tell them I’m not interested in anything above the neck (or really, anything that isn’t thighs down) bc happy to stare and not know a thing about his personality thank you very much.

... I go out of my way to stand by that. and then, in a particularly shitty lecture one day, as I’m contemplating trying a psych shift, I realise the only person I know of who’s done what I’m interested in is... FS.

I decide fuck it, I’ll just message and ask - no being polite or friendly, straight to the point bc it’s work and I’m not there to open a door (even though, and I tell the girls this, by opening up messaging I feel like I am). this causes a non-stop 45min FB chat - I mean non-stop - and he’s hilarious. super hilarious. he’s also flirting w/ me and whilst I know this is all bc he’s FS (and I tell him so - he finds it v. funny), it’s a fun convo and it’s harmless and I reckon he’s just playing up bc we’re both bored.

... things escalate quickly.

we message back and forth a lot - he’s very quick and sharp, so he keeps up w/ me easily, but I’m treating him as I would anyone else. this lasts a while, but he keeps flirting and I keep telling him he’s a moron and eventually say if he keeps it up I’m just going to treat him like a psych experiment.

... I assume him continuing means he knows i’m being serious.

he becomes my psych experiment. lots of things being studied, including E and stuff from my dissertation etc etc and although at this point I know we’re embroiled in a weird power struggle, I stop giving a fucks because hey, he’s an experiment to me and i’m an unofficial therapist for him, right? win win. i don’t NEED to give a fuck about how it comes across.

2 weeks later, i’m sitting in the library while he’s at home, and we end up arguing over FB. he starts off polite but it quickly becomes i’m being intrusive, messaging him a lot, etc; why can’t I treat him like Aussie Essex (Blonde Pop’s housemate and my friend, as well as FS’) aka a normal friend and I’m like “lol but we’re not friends”, which we’ve both acknowledged before, but my stance is: I know things about him bc I asked specific things bc psychoanalysis. He doesn’t know anything about me. Friendship is mutual, that isn’t. basically I’m like “look, i’m sorry, have a nice life” in nicer words (bc I’m lost bc in my mind - I TOLD him he was a psych experiment??) and he’s all “what so you’re going to ignore me forever now haha” in not so many words and I’m like ???, but when he doesn’t respond, i’m like cool, we’re dead to each other, fine.

the girls notice how fucking ICE COLD we are w/ each other when we’re in the common room, though we wouldn’t normally talk, and Trout (not indicative of her face; a girl we both know, a member of the School - aka the group of girls who worship FS and his friends in my year, they have literally sat at FS’ feet before - who at this point, has been watching me and FS for a while) gets smug. bear in mind, after that first FB chat, I was throwing an event as co-president of the trauma society and was making the rounds around the common room to see who was coming and, after some initial back and forth, I commanded FS to come and he was like “fuck OKAY. okay? shit yes, okay” (he didn’t come and was meant to help me get numbers, but he fucked that too. idk if it was deliberate. it was a success anyway tho so w/e) and Trout was all ?!?!?! because she watches FS like a hawk and so he and I talking clearly confused her

but then a few days later he sees me sitting alone in lectures where I don’t usually sit and he’s like “morning Hannah” and, too shocked to do anything else, I auto-reply “morning [FS]” and just like that we’re okay again?

after the fight, I message him once - a silly message in a lecture by a 1st world Barbie - to test his reaction to the lecture more than anything else, but he doesn’t reply, which I suspected, but after that... no FB. I refuse to break that rule.

BUT I do grab him a couple of times when he walks by my seat in the break; I apologise face-to-face after he says hi and he apologises for the misunderstanding regarding the argument (he may have said hi after that?? idk) and he basically demands we’re friends and I’m like yeah whatever sure pal

but then he walks in one day wearing a beanie just like E’s and I. i just. it becomes a thing. i have a really cute bobble hat I wear every day bc our lecture theatre is colder than the Arctic fucking circle and so as I joke about him competing, I’m really freaking out bc that’s when I realise just how MUCH he reminds me of E. this hat becomes a Thing. I grab it one time and threaten to keep it hostage with Blonde Pop in front of all of his friends and they look at me like I’m insane, confused, lost at how I, a Front Row Person, dares to challenge FS. I’m literally in high school again.

aware of that, I die it down... and long story short, somehow, FS starts saying hi more and more in the morning and we have these mini chats (once the hat thing dies down), but it’s really tiny.

then I fuck up my wrist.

it pisses me off bc he’s clearly curious but doesn’t ask and I’m like “further proof we’re not friends” to myself but by this point, so much little shit has happened that all of my friends know what’s going on (lbr they did anyway) and his School are aware of me too - but OH - so there was this med school ball thing and we both went and that’s when I got more E vibes and I was like “fuck this” bc the more I avoided it the more it was happening and he was avoiding me and so AFTER that I was like “fuck this” and planned on ignoring him but that just... didn’t happen (I’m omitting so much of the finer details).

so yeah, he’s annoying me about my wrist bc he’s eavesdropping when I talk to my friend about it, but... nothing? so I’m like w/e fuck this dude and by this point, as an accidental by product of me being pissed with him at the ball (and myself), I’m dealing with some other male Situations and it’s pissing me off

bUT then exam week arrives and we have a really lovely chat before anatomy and he’s being all sweet and friendly and the School is confused and HS is confused (HS is perpetually confused when it comes to me and FS, which is odd, bc otherwise we’re pretty chill w/ each other) but at this point something doesn’t feel right bc I’m good w/ body language, right? communication, esp non-verbal, is my thing. and he’s being weird.

then I come home for the weekend to get my wrist seen to and Blonde Pop goes out with everyone else to celebrate exams being over (I leave with 2 of my other friends right after) and FS sees Blonde Pop, who he’s spoken to bc of me enough times now, and he asks where I am - and that’s weird bc we NEVER have spoken in a social setting so I’m like??

we get back; he stops before lectures and comments on my temporary cast (fracture clinic appointment tomorrow guys, prayer circle) and says something like “oh, well it’s good it’s completely immobilised” (30mins later i realise why this bothered me; he’s quoted me directly from when he was eavesdropping on me and my friend discussing the injury accidentally, and I’m like aHA I KNEW IT) and I make a flippant comment about yeah, but it’s not great for getting dressed in the morning and he’s like “oh, I’ll help you get dressed” and I look at him like wtf bc lol he’s such a moron but also ??? but then he sees Kelly and bolts, though he was laughing too and trying to justify that comment (badly) and for perspective, I tell Kelly and she immediately picks up my phone to see it and I’m like no, this just happened in person and she’s like what the actual fUCK bc that is not the level FS and I are in person so it’s not just me ok

and then later I see him sitting with Aussie Essex and when I go to speak to AE he’s like “hi??” and me, not hearing him but seeing him watching me, am all flippantly like “oh hey” and carry on but it throws me tf off bc we’ve had our one convo of the day inside the lecture theatre and this is getting weird and i’m immediately like ?? did he sit with Aussie Essex knowing I’d say hi? wtf?

then it’s the end of term pub quiz collecting money for charity (I’m using so much ‘then’, it’s disgusting and u can see i’m not in writer mode) and my gut tells me to avoid FS bc he’s leaving after lectures the next day but everyone is like wtf no come, it’ll be chill, so I do, and it’s fine, and he’s there and right in my line of vision but i’m like w/e w/e and we kinda say hi but it’s in passing and at this point, I’m on good terms with like... the majority of the guys in his little gang (he lives with 4 of them, so I’m polite to all of them on some level) and so when HS is introducing me to his gf, it’s fine... until he’s like “oh btw I forgot to tell you - this is [FS’] girl”

??????????????????

things escalate quickly. first FS sends me hearts, I flip him off, then he starts talking and I can’t hear so I go over and that’s when I get fucking ambushed by his housemate, who I only have spoken to once or so but know his gf but will hereby be known as Buttface... about how they’ve all (FS’ friends) given every girl on each row a percentage of how much they think that girl fancies FS. I’ve scored one of the highest - 73%, alongside another girl with a slight reputation (no judgement) who has been all over FS the majority of the night so far.

the more I defend myself, the more Buttface claims that’s proof of it being true (as a lit grad, do you know how much that logic offends me???) and FS only repeats that he wasn’t a part of the convo, it was only about him so not to blame him. but he listens smugly. things escalate. i’m ashamed to admit i’m so thrown off that i am not my best and as things continue to escalate, i feel too blindsided to do what I want to (though I do half-slap FS once bc I can’t fully slap him in a room full of our course w/o Drama, and though I go to spill a drink on him twice, everyone stops me) and it’s a mess and once it’s over, i’m raging and have to leave. a lot of people stay out though, so half of the lecture is too hungover the next day... so I don’t see FS and that week, we broke off for Xmas break. but before i left, I nudged HS and was like “wtf so you and your house talk about me a lot...” (literally aLL OF FS’ housemates are familiar w/ the topic) and HS is like “nah, I reckon he fancies YOU” and I know HS is a shit stirrer so it pisses me off more

Blonde Pop is raging for me. Broski is like “meh, men”, though Percival takes offence at the shitty logic; but Deej and Cap (who I travelled with) are like lol what this is a victory. in the power struggle, you’re winning. he doesn’t think we know about all of this; but you’re clearly important enough for all of his housemates to know your name. Lulu and Dragon Jock see me the next day; I make Lulu give me a hug bc I’m like “am I giving off hoe vibes??” and Lulu, who is soft and smiley and a cinnamon roll, is all “nO IT’S LAD CULTURE AND IT’S RUBBISH” and it’s very cute and defensive of me and Dragon Jock is just like “lol i’ll hit ‘em”. which is nice.

general consensus is to ignore the fuck outta him come going back in 2 weeks but?? idk if I can? it’s not that simple bc we have the rest of the course together and I know that he’ll act like everything’s fine and if i say why i’m pissed, Buttface will use that as ‘proof’ (rather than me being horrified at their audacity, I mean CHRIST ON A STICK) and if I don’t, it’s still proof... Broski says this won’t go away anytime soon bc of that reason but that isn’t satisfactory either

and like i clearly try to blend into the bg to avoid drama and now i’m like? why bother?? when we all went for takeout in our last night in Swans before heading home, Cap was like “i find it hilarious how you have so much drama around you” and when I was all “i sit in my room and watch Netflix tho??”, he was like “... that’s why it’s hilarious” and tbh yes, but not in a funny way, in more of a dAMN IT way

fuck blending? it makes no difference? hence me accepting my femininity, bc... screw everyone else, I’ll do what the fuck I want

but yeah. that’s the latest.

also, in slapping him, i felt his stubble and that was not the one.

berate me freely, go forth...

#the student diaries #fuckboy supreme #goodnight #finndamrron #franklyineedcoffee #i thought it'd be easier to say it in one go

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