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theeclecticwitchblog240 · 2 years ago

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3 Habits To Improve Your Life & Magic Today

No matter how long you’ve been practicing witchcraft, you can always find new ways to integrate it into your everyday life. Witchcraft is incredibly versatile and there are many different magical tools you can use to support your practice. Some situations call for big rituals with elaborate altars. Other days, all you have time for is a quick spell before heading off to work.

When life gets busy, it’s easy to let self-care and magic take a backseat to more pressing matters. This can be a bummer because often times those are the moments when you really need your witchcraft to keep you grounded and connected to your personal power.

One way to practice witchcraft on a regular basis is to create habits around your spells and rituals. You can integrate different aspects of your witchcraft into your daily (or weekly) routine, so you’re always surrounding yourself with magic, no matter what is going on in your life. These witchy habits are meant to seamlessly fit into your life, so you’re performing magic as consistently as you’re brushing your teeth.

That being said, if you’re a witch who prefers to only practice magic every once in a while, that’s totally fine. You should only do magic as often as you like. Witchcraft should never feel like a chore. It should be joyful and organic.

Use these tips to enrich your own personal witchcraft practice. If you want to give any of these ideas a try, start with adding one habit into your life at a time. Experiment with doing that habit all month, and see how it goes. Perhaps you’d like to journal about the process to keep track of any changes you notice in yourself. Keep the habits that make you happy, and discard the rest. You know what’s best for you when it comes to your magical practice. Trust your intuition, and trust what makes you happy.

Witchy Habit #1:

Be Open To Signs: We live in a magical world.

Witches know this better than anyone. We see things, hear things, notice things that might seem random to most people. Sometimes, things aren’t all that magical, but some occurrences ARE magic, and a great habit to get into is staying open to whatever signs your encounter as you go through your day. Signs come to witches in all different ways. Sometimes it’s the number 11:11 on a digital clock. Sometimes it’s a song lyric that catches your attention. It could even be a gift from a coworker or a text from a friend.

Signs are everywhere, and the only way to tell if it’s a sign or not is to use your intuition. You might notice how it made you feel. Did it give you chills? Make you laugh? Give you a sense of peace? You might see something that jogs your memory or gives you new insight into an issue you’re working through. Whatever it is, just be open. You never know what messages you’ll pick up from the universe. Journal about any signs you notice. Maybe you’ll discover their meaning as time goes on. Maybe they’ll stay a mystery. Either way, it’s all part of your witchy practice.

Witchy Habit #2: Combine Magic With Things You Do Every Day

In the Evening:

If you want to improve your sleeping, create rituals around your existing evening routines.

Try diffusing vanilla or lavender essential oil in the evenings while you’re cleaning up after dinner, watching tv, or getting ready for bed.

Before you go to sleep, take a minute or two to sit by a window and admire the moon. You can keep a notebook by your window and write down a wish or intention you’d like to send to the moon at this time. Set the notebook by the window so the moon can shine on it overnight and use its energy to help you fulfill your desire.

Place a labradorite crystal under your pillow with the intention of a full night’s sleep and pleasant dreams. You can also use the energy of tarot cards or oracle cards to promote restful sleep. The Temperance card and the Four of Swords are excellent cards to place under your pillow for that purpose. If you find you have trouble sleeping because you can’t stop thinking about problems that came up during the day, you can place the High Priestess card, or the Hierophant card under your pillow to help you process the day’s problems overnight. The Strength card or the Sun card can be used if you had a bad day and need to call in a little positivity for the next day. If you use oracle cards, go through your deck and select the energy you think will be most beneficial to you. Try this habit out for at least a week if possible, and keep track of how you feel in the mornings. Make adjustments to your evening ritual as needed.

If you’ve been feeling a lot of negativity, consider adding a selenite window to your magical toolkit. This special crystal is a flat, somewhat clear piece of selenite that is both self-cleansing and self-charging.

You can build a variety of habits around this crystal. After washing your face in the evening, use your selenite window for energetic cleansing. Touch the crystal to the top of your head, the sides of your face and the back of your neck. (You can also do a version of this in the morning by holding the crystal between your palms and taking ten deep breaths before getting out of bed. As you do this, imagine a cleansing white light floating down from above, bathing you with positivity. Think of this as your morning shower, but for your spirit instead of your body.)

Place your cell phone, wallet, or car keys on the piece of selenite every night so that item can be cleansed of any negative energy it has picked up during the day.

In the morning:

When you’re taking your morning shower, whisper your intention for the day, and three actions you’ll take to move closer towards your intention over the course of the day. Perform a mini-meditation while showering by visualizing yourself doing those actions.

As you get dressed, bless an article of clothing. You can say something like, “May this sweater keep me warm today.” You can also use an affirmation such as, “This outfit makes a great first impression at today’s meeting.”

As you’re headed out the door, select a small crystal to take with you. Place it in your car or keep it in your pocket to give you positive energy throughout the day.

During your day:

If there are any parts of your day that you find unpleasant, brainstorm creative ways to use magic to make them better. For example, if you hate stopping at the gas station to fill up your car, ask yourself why you hate it. If the answer is that you dislike how much money it costs, use the time while you’re standing at the pump to say a money affirmation like, “Money flows to me quickly, easily, and abundantly.” or “I always have enough money for all my desires.”

If you loathe stopping for gas because you feel you don’t have enough time, use that time at the pump to visualize driving the rest of the way to your destination without any further delays. In your mind’s eye, see all the stoplights turning to green as you approach. Visualize clear roads and traffic flowing quickly and safely.

You can also do a fast safety spell as you’re finishing up at the gas pump. Simply look at how many gallons of gas you added into your car and say aloud, “May these (number of gallons of gas) bring me safe transit and joyful adventures.”

Witchy Tip #3: Set An Intention For Your Week

Every Sunday, pick an intention for your week. Then plan out spells and rituals to perform throughout the week to support that intention. (You can also do one intention for an entire month if that suits you better.)

If your intention is to strengthen your connection to your intuition and increase your psychic abilities, write down all the spells you know to help you with your intention. Pick several of these ideas and write them down in your planner (or wherever you keep your schedule) and commit to doing them.

For example:

Sunday: Spend twenty minutes meditating, journaling, and planning my intention for the week.

Monday: Set up an altar with my intention in mind

Tuesday: Carry an amethyst crystal in my pocket.

Wednesday: Light jasmine incense while I spend fifteen minutes meditating before my morning shower.

Thursday: Bring my tarot cards to my weekly coffee date and do readings for myself and my friend.

Friday: Use runes for divination on my lunch break.

Saturday: Light a purple candle and journal about any messages I receive from my intuition or spirit guides.

These spells can be as simple as changing the password on your laptop to whatever your weekly intention is, or they can be more involved like an hour-long ritual bath with herbs, crystals, and sea salt. Whatever magic you pick, try to write it down somewhere and schedule it in like you would a hair appointment or a work meeting. If you have a busy week, keep your magic short and sweet. Habits are about consistency. Seven days of small magic gestures can create powerful momentum.

Rather than doing this weekly or monthly, you can try setting intentions by other natural cycles you notice in your life. The moon offers about a twenty-eight day cycle, split up by different phases. The four seasons are another cycle you can use.

Maybe you prefer to set intentions by cycles in your personal life like a school year, or your ninety-day performance review at work. You can create intentions by events in your life like tax day, your birthday, or your anniversary. The key is to look for patterns in your life—things that repeat, and embed magical habits into those patterns.

Finding Balance With Your Magical Habits

With all the ways you can infuse your daily routines with magic, it’s important to find balance. You might find that scheduling magic into your week takes the fun out of your practice. If that’s the case, don’t do it! The same magical habit might feel joyful for one witch and tedious for another. You might also find that certain habits work well for a while. Then over time, the habit becomes restrictive. That’s totally normal—you’re growing and changing every day. Don’t be afraid to change or let go of habits that no longer serve you. Create new ones. That way your habits change right along with you.

BB!

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miabrown007 · 3 years ago

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The Art of Giving Your Best Friend Platonic Hickeys

"So, I've read this Tumblr post," Marinette said. Now, at this point in time anyone with the tiniest bit of common sense would have cocked a skeptical eyebrow and backed away from this conversation as fast as their neurotypical legs would carry them. Chat Noir — against all expectations — peered an eye open. "What did it say?" "It said, and I wholeheartedly agree, that it's okay to have a little crush on your friends.” *** aka Marinette and Chat Noir rent out a hotel room for clowning purposes

The Art of Giving Your Best Friend Platonic Hickeys (1999 words, 1/1 chapters, Teen)

"I've always wanted to try this!" Marinette giggled as soon as the door banged shut behind her.

"Renting out a hotel room with a friend for the heck of it?" Chat Noir asked. His voice was amused but he didn't pay much mind to her, ogling the double bed of their room challengingly as he was.

Marinette threw herself on the comforter without a second thought. "Renting out a hotel room with my best friend for the heck of it!" she corrected.

His face lit up like a toddler's on Christmas as he followed suit, jumping on the bed with all his might. "And I've always wanted to try this!"

"You can do better than just throwing yourself in the sheets, you know," Marinette laughed and gave the bed an experimental bounce.

"Oh, I'm aware," Chat drawled, his mischievous eyes flashing at her as he started springing up and down on the mattress in earnest. "I'm just getting started here."

"That's good, because the night is also only getting started," Marinette countered, holding his gaze for the exact millisecond it took her to get ideas before she threw her head back with a hearty laugh.

And then they did other things one or both of them had always wanted to try, like ordering an unholy amount of ice cream from the room service and feeding it to each other blindfolded, until — in some inexplicable, mysterious way — it ended up in Chat Noir's hair. After that there were no more excuses to avoid trying out the lavender-scented bath bombs they found in the vanity because he had to wash his hair anyway.

Marinette sat on the carpet cross-legged with her back to the bathroom's door, scrolling away on her phone while keeping up a conversation with Chat Noir over the sound of running water.

It was casual.

However, she got so engrossed in a post, she didn't even notice the silence and the approaching footsteps. Chat Noir opened the door and she fell, her back meeting the tiles before he could have caught her.

"Auch, are you okay?" he asked, pulling her to her feet.

“Yeah, I just got distracted,” Marinette said. She gave a once over to him, a smirk tugging on her lips as she went over to sit on the bed. “Cute PJs, by the way.”

“Wearing Ladybug pyjamas is very professional in my line of business, I’ll have you know,” he nodded proudly. He followed her like a shadow and just when she finally found a comfortable position — one-leg pulled under herself — he laid his head on her lap.

“Your hair is all wet,” Marinette complained, albeit making no effort to change the situation.

She grazed her nails over the spot behind his ear — the human one, not the cat one, that would have been weird — the way she knew he liked it. (Although, the weird part was probably the fact that even detransformed and with only a black textile mask to conceal his identity, Chat Noir felt the need to put on a headband accessorised with cat ears. She didn’t comment on that, though — who was Marinette to judge a friend’s self-expression.)

Evidently enjoying the head-scratches, Chat Noir let his eyes drift shut.

"So, I've read this Tumblr post," Marinette said.

Now, at this point in time anyone with the tiniest bit of common sense would have cocked a skeptical eyebrow and backed away from this conversation as fast as their neurotypical legs would carry them.

Chat Noir — against all expectations — peered an eye open. "What did it say?"

"It was a very insightful analysis on platonic relationships, actually," she continued. She ran her fingers through his damp hair and fiddled with the untamable locks.

Chat Noir made a purring sound. "And what did it say about platonic relationships?"

Why Marinette didn’t feel like using the word ‘friendship’ in the first place, she couldn’t quite explain. At any rate, she proceeded to avoid doing so. "It said — and I wholeheartedly agree — that it's okay to have a little crush on your friends. That you can be attracted to them, and that's fine. Because nothing has to come from it. And I think that's really neat."

[read the whole fic on AO3]

@marichatmay, @miraculousfanworks, @discoveringmiraculouswriters

#marichat #miraculous ladybug #marichat may #chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #marichat may 2022 #marichat may day 30 #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #miaraculous writing #back in february my brain high on covid painkiller decided that writing this was a good idea #and honestly I stand y that. this is as on brand as it gets

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itsclydebitches · 2 years ago

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RWBY Ice Queendom Recaps: “This is Beacon”

Welcome to Episode Two, everyone!

Before we begin, I have something to say that I can’t believe I forgot to mention last recap. It’s vitally important and absolutely relevant to this series.

EVERYONE LOOK AT MY NEW CAT:

Her name is Caly and love her so, so, so, so much ^_^

Okay, with that crucial bit of info out of the way, we can continue on with Ice Queendom!

We begin right where we left off, with all our characters - mostly the future Team JNPR and Team RWBY - flying the, apparently, 2+ hour journey to Beacon Academy. Well, that gives us a slightly better sense of Vale’s size. They’re obviously not the only ones on this trip though. The airship is packed full of potential students, none of whom are shadow people, and as I’ll get into a bit during the initiation sequence, IQ sparks the same question that has plagued RWBY since Volume 1 dropped.

Namely, what happened to the rest of those students?

Did they fail initiation? Join background teams like Cardin’s? Get put on some waiting list if there weren’t a number of successes divisible by four and/or if their names couldn’t be put into a color-related acronym? Obviously we’re not meant to overthink these details, but it can be fun to pull at RWBY’s loose threads on occasion; see which we might explain with headcanons and which are just left dangling.

We see Lisa Lavender reporting, though this time it’s just about the start of Beacon’s school year. Jaune walks by still feeling nauseous and Nora runs up to Ren, shouting excitedly about how the bus they’re on is really flying! ... despite the fact that they’ve been flying for a while now. Also, it’s not a bus, Nora, it’s an airship.

This is the kind of throwaway line that I like a lot more after having watched RWBY. On its own this just makes Nora look stupid, but if you know about her and Ren’s background — orphans, presumably isolated with just one another for company, living poor in the wilds of Remnant — it makes more sense that she’d be both in awe of and slightly confused by a state of the art, Atlas airship. I mean yeah, she’s still Nora. Her silliness still shines through in the late observation and the choice to call it a “bus,” but the larger takeaway changes when you realize that this is probably the first time Nora and Ren have ever had the chance to go on a trip like this.

Meanwhile, Weiss is busy reading up on the “entrance ceremony,” which gives the audience some insight into the rest of the episode before Ozpin and Glynda re-explain things, namely about the teams. With partners on the brain, Weiss spots Pyrrha and immediately recognizes her, pulling up a picture of her Pumpkin Pete’s shoot. Though both smile, IQ!Pyrrha appears more enthusiastic about advertising a marshmallow cereal, despite later admitting to disliking it.

I also like the “New Look Packaging!” prominently stamped on the side because that’s partly what IQ is, right? At least these first few episodes. It’s RWBY, but with a new look, new packaging — a slightly new experience.

While Weiss plots how to form the best team Beacon has ever seen, Ruby regresses from last episode and tells Yang all about how she doesn’t really need to make any new friends. She can just spend all her time with her big sis! I pointed out in “Red, White, Black, Yellow” that we’ve got a different version of Ruby here, one who is promising her father to make lots of connections rather than shying away from socializing... yet here that’s been tossed aside. I suppose, while hanging in the realm of headcanon, we could theorize that Ruby was just lying to Tai, telling him what she knew he wanted to hear so as not to worry him, but frankly I liked that changed, especially since IQ is already emphasizing Ruby’s need to step out from Yang’s shadow. You don’t need a general difficulty with making friends when we’ve already got a more specific conflict to work through, especially since, like in RWBY, Ruby doesn’t have trouble connecting with her team. Nearly every hurdle in her way is external — Weiss thinking she’s too good to follow Ruby, Blake deliberately keeping to herself — rather than something Ruby herself is doing to make forming friendships a challenge. In both versions, from her immediately bonding with Jaune while lost (RWBY), to engaging Blake in conversation about her book (both), Ruby isn’t written as someone struggling to connect with others, especially when you toss in iffy canonical details like her writing back to her Signal buddies.

This is one of a couple moments where I think IQ is including aspects of the original RWBY because they’re part of the original RWBY, not because it makes sense for this AU. Which, interestingly, is a problem I see a lot in fic AUs too. Often characters will maintain characteristics because it makes them recognizable, despite the fact that, removed from their original context, that characteristic should not longer exist — and, crucially, the AU hasn’t given another explanation for how it developed. IQ appears to be including certain aspects because they recognize that this is how the characters normally function, this is who they are... even though, by writing a parallel reality (or whatever) they’ve irrevocably changed the characters and freed themselves from the need to repeat such beats in the first place.

To be clear this isn’t, like, some huge and distracting problem. It’s just a little trend I’ve noticed. They could have maintained Ruby’s newfound desire to be social, or simply not introduced that in the first place. Instead though, we have a weird back-and-forth where the characters embody their AU characterizations in one scene, acting slightly — but not drastically — different from their RWBY counterparts, only to suddenly switch back when IQ decides it wants to copy-paste a scene from the original. It creates a bit of a disconnect in a show that otherwise flows far better than the webseries.

What I do like though is that Yang flashes back to her conversation with Tai where he reminds her that Ruby needs to forge her own path, not simply follow theirs. So though Ruby herself might be bouncing between a friends/no friends attitude, Yang has the new and I think better motivation of helping her sister grow. Whether she’s embracing her sisterly role, or more of a mom-like role, having Yang push Ruby towards Blake because she thinks that’s good for her is WAY nicer than ditching Ruby for shadow people the second they step on campus.

Especially when, like Ruby’s Signal friends, Yang’s apparently cease to exist post-ditching.

After a cut to commercials, we get another shot of our background students who... don’t look like teenagers?

Seriously. That dude on the left is in his late thirties, at least.

I’m not sure if this is another instance of the RWBY franchise (and perhaps animation as a whole?) failing to accurately depict ages — insert disbelief about 12yo Cinder here — or if that guy is deliberately meant to be an adult trying out for the program. I’m partial to the latter option because that would make a lot of sense, wouldn’t it? I mean sure, our actual story might be about a bunch of teenagers, but in Remnant there’s no reason why you wouldn’t get adults wanting to be huntsmen too, especially when we’ve got so many fighters coming from different backgrounds. Does it take long to secure a spot if you weren’t able to attend another combat school and, unlike Jaune, weren’t willing to pay for fake transcripts? How many students does Beacon accept each year and how long might you wait for a spot? If you grow up outside of the Kingdoms, maybe you’ve spent all your life being a badass fighter, but you need a degree to become a licensed huntsmen and fight grimm in the streets (think Clover pointing out that RWBYJNOR technically aren’t allowed to fight those grimm in Atlas, despite the fact that they were really arrested for illegal entry). It would track with what else we know about Remnant. Like college, you have students who had to put off education for any number of reasons, or are entering programs they’ve already passed in their own country, or are just seeking legal entry into a career they’ve been practicing off the grid. Personally, I think it would have been cool to see a Beacon where there’s a balance of ages and backgrounds.

Anyway, Yang spots Blake sitting by herself and drags Ruby over, so this is a version of events where Ruby gets to bond with Blake prior to seeing her tear Weiss a new one. At least a little. Blake is still reading her book about a man with two souls, implying (alongside our intro speech) that Ozpin remains his immortal self, housed in some poor bastard of a host.

(TELL ME WHO “OZPIN” IS, IQ. DO IT. PLEASE. WE KNOW OZMA, BUT WHO IS THE HOST? WHERE DID HE GO? WHAT WAS HE LIKE? IS OSCAR DESTINED TO DISAPPEAR LIKE HE DID IF THEY DIE TOO? IS THE MERGE LITERAL AND “OZPIN” HAS BEEN SUCKED INTO SOME OZMA VOID? HAS OZMA HIMSELF BASICALLY CEASED TO EXIST, FORCED TO BECOME AN AMALGAMATION OF GENERATIONS OF PERSONALITIES BY CONTINUALLY REINCARNATING AGAINST HIS WILL? IS THERE ANY HOPE FOR ALL THESE MEN TO GAIN FREEDOM WHEN THE CURSE IS BROKEN, OR ARE THEY ANOTHER SACRIFICE TO THIS WAR BUILT ON THE GODS’ CALLOUS NATURES? INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW.)

In less angsty news, Yang introduces Ruby as her “cute baby sister,” which is sweet :)

She and Blake have their little talk about whether the world is anything like a fairy tale, with Ruby agreeing that it’s not... but that’s why they’re here, to make things better! That also makes Yang gush with pride and I’m doing the grinning-hugely-with-hands-fisted-up-around-my-mouth thing because the sisterly energy of IQ is off the charts.

This also gives Blake something new to soften to. Rather than smiling at their play-fighting antics, she succumbs to the more wholesome charms of the Xiao-Long-Rose sisters. Like all the other characters, small changes — such as crying a bit while getting her Beacon acceptance, or smiling now — likewise change the read on Blake’s personality. She comes across as a bit more subdued to me in IQ. A fighter, sure, but no longer the woman who marched up to Weiss solely to tell her how awful her family is, unprompted. Interestingly, that role goes more to Yang next episode.

Case in point, when Lavender pops back up to report on a protest gone wrong after the White Fang’s appearance, Blake keeps quiet at first, leaving Yang to mention the “rumors” that the Schnee Dust Company is corrupt and using their employees like slaves. When Weiss comes over to tell them off, we’ve got a situation where Blake should presumably be more endeared towards Ruby and Yang for at least trying to take that information seriously. There’s a 3 vs. 1 setup here that’s going to influence Blake’s later identity reveal.

Weiss spouts her usual, racist rhetoric — the White Fang are “anti-human” and a “lowlife group of thieves” — and Blake finally starts pushing back, resulting in another split-screen. I like the technique here, with more space going to whoever is being the most aggressive in the conversation: first Weiss, then Blake.

Ruby tries to diffuse the situation by asking them to all get along. Maybe they can even go shopping together! Cue Weiss’ sarcastic line about how yeah, they’ll even talk about cute boys like him.

This is actually so mean lol. Poor Jaune. His character has been such a point of contention in the fandom, but you’ve really got to feel bad for him sometimes.

Ozpin and Glynda both appear via TV screen in the airship with the tops of their faces cut off for the first couple of shots, similar to what we got with Ozpin during the original welcoming ceremony.

It’s a choice I’m still not sure what to make of given that we’ve met both of them already and this is a framing usually reserved for the mysterious newcomer: think Shino under that massive hat. Regardless, it certainly adds to the creepy atmosphere IQ is courting.

They explain that the students will be given their first test today and, far as I can gather, this is a surprise to pretty much everyone. Weiss knows that they’ll get teammates, but not how, and everyone seems to be working under the assumption that they were already, fully accepted into the school. Only Yang appears to be in the know and that’s because Tai, as a former student and (potential) Inner Circle member, gave his daughters the low-down on what to expect. Well, it would be daughters, plural, if Ruby remembered any of what her dad had told her lol.

Ruby claims no one told her about teams in general either and I’m like what? Did you think?? STRQ was??? Tai literally mentions it in the first episode! I mean granted, not to Ruby, but you’ve gotta wonder how she’s gone her whole life without knowing her parents + uncle went to Beacon, knowing they were members of this team, and not putting two-and-two together to get, “I’ll be in a team when I attend Beacon.”

Someone help this child.

Knowing now that they’re heading for the forest, everyone goes to the on-board lockers to retrieve their weapons. Weiss still approaches Pyrrha about being partners, but now the implication is that Weiss is willing to cheat. If I’m remembering my RWBY timeline correctly, the group originally meets in the locker room, goes to the cliffs, and then Ozpin explains the rules of their initiation, including the whole “The first person you make eye contact with will be your partner” bit. However, here the rules are explained first and then they go to the lockers... meaning Weiss just heard this rule and went, ‘Lol yeah right. I’m deciding my partner ahead of time!’

Which, you know, isn’t much of a revelation. She’s very willing to ditch Ruby when they run into each other until she decides that Jaune is the worse option. Still, I think of Weiss as such a goody-goody when it comes to school stuff — “We’ll have the best grades!” — that realizing she was willing to manipulate the team-ups, just minutes after being told how they were supposed to work, kinda threw me for a moment.

Not that I think IQ intentionally meant to send that message. Like Ruby’s characterization discussed above, this is another moment where repeating the canon after introducing new elements changes things in a way the story doesn’t really acknowledge. The group originally talked in the locker room? Let’s do it again! Never mind how changing the order of events, even slightly, will likewise change our characters’ implied motivations.

(Why does Weiss look like a child here ajdflaskjfa)

In asking Pyrrha to team-up with her, Weiss unintentionally get the attention of the whole room. In a single shot IQ does a good job of showing just how famous Pyrrha is, at least among other fighters, and how her name alone can spark a host of mutterings and glances. It’s at this point that Jaune barges in — somewhat hilariously in a second-hand embarrassment kinda way — by trying to confirm from Weiss that she’s into him. You said you were my type, yeah? ;)

He’s trying the whole ‘Girls only like confidence thing.’ Yikes. 😬

It backfires, obviously, and Jaune reveals his ignorance regarding Pyrrha: “Play your cards right and maybe you can join the winning team.” Interestingly though, he doesn’t recognize her with a bit of prompting. Whereas RWBY!Jaune is made to look stupid by knowing Pyrrha through a sugary cereal than all her combat achievements, IQ!Jaune doesn’t know her, period. Weiss is the one with a Pumpkin Pete’s fixation (apparently), bringing it up the second she thinks she spots Pyrrha Nikos and trying to use it to jog Jaune’s memory. Other than that introduction — in which Jaune seems to quickly realize this isn’t working for him — he’s pretty likable here, managing to bond with Pyrrha a little over how much they’re not a fan of unhealthy, marshmallow breakfasts.

Frankly, I like this version of events better. It makes Jaune feel like more of a person than a cartoon archetype; someone who’s just legitimately awkward and not, you know, the butt of an endless joke. Same with Weiss. Imagining the pampered heiress having a soft spot for a dessert-like cereal that she was probably never allowed to have — can you imagine a Pumpkin Pete’s box sitting in the Schnee dining room? — feels more genuine than a character who is concerned with Pyrrha’s legitimate accomplishments, and legitimate accomplishments only. Most importantly though, this change actually gives Pyrrha a reason to be interested in Jaune. I’ve said for years that RWBY undermines its own argument by having Jaune freak out about the Pumpkin Pete’s thing. It doesn’t matter why he’s interested in her celebrity status, or that it took him a little longer to get there than others would, the end result is still a fanboy reaction that should make Pyrrha uncomfortable, just like all the other reactions have. This claim that she cares for Jaune because he treated her differently never sat right with me because, well... he didn’t. But IQ!Jaune does. He straight up doesn’t know Pyrrha Nikos and thus treats her like anyone else (minus his stupid approach to women as a whole). He’ll interrupt a conversation, talk himself up as a partner, and chat about cereal because why wouldn’t he? She’s just another student in his eyes.

Good job, Ice Queendom. I like this change. Granted, it does raise even more questions about what Remnant sized rock Jaune has been living under that he doesn’t know about Pyrrha OR Aura... but that’s a rant for further along in the recap.

And for the next recap.

Seriously, IQ manages to make the whole Aura situation worse and I’m kind of impressed.

The airship finally arrives, the group exits, and — oh look! Shadow people! :D

Actually wait, can we acknowledge what a missed opportunity that was? With everything streamlined together (cutting the meeting in the courtyard, the sleepover, the opening speech about color names) I had assumed that IQ would pull a Myers and drop all the students directly into the forest. Why wait? Ozpin already explained what’s happening and that’s one way to produce a landing strategy! I mean, I love Ozpin’s yeet device as much as the next RWBY fan, but I think the IQ cast should get dropped from an airship, as a treat.

Instead they land and walk and then yeet. Lame.

This time, the setup is way fancier with everyone having an assigned spot and nameplate. The lack of shadow people, while wonderful from an animation standpoint, does end up highlighting one of RWBY’s worldbuilding problems though. Namely, where are the other students? When we were given a bunch of faceless silhouettes disappearing into the distance, it was easy to assume that everyone we see later in the series was there, just hidden. Here though, we can see precisely who is involved in the initiation and it’s... just 2/3rds of Team RWBY?

Not only are we missing background characters like Cardin, but Ren, Nora, Pyrrha, and Blake are missing too. It’s a little weird. I suppose the easiest explanation, given the number of students on the airship, is that there are multiple starting points throughout the forest and... only one is lucky enough to get the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress sendoff? Again, weird. Why not at least animate Blake? Or better yet, give us our main cast of eight and let us assume all the non-protagonists are testing elsewhere. We’re already left with the question of what happened to 75% of the incoming class. They’re nowhere in the forest, they don’t fight the grimm, and they’re not given teams at the ceremony. I’ve never been sure whether we’re supposed to interpret this as them just existing off screen, or if this test truly is a gauntlet that only a few manage to pass, resulting in large portions of each class losing their place before they ever set foot on campus.

Maybe that explains why guys in their 40s are still trying to get in.

Jaune remains out of his depth here, but this time he doesn’t have a conversation with Ozpin about parachutes and landing strategies. Instead, that time is given to the mysterious new professor who shows up after all the kids have been yeeted away.

This is Shion Zaiden — color name stemming from a very pretty flower — and until we get confirmation otherwise, I’ll be using he/him pronouns to refer to him.

In case you’ve missed it, there’s been a bit of confusion regarding Shion’s identity. While watching the first three episodes I had no idea that he was non-binary, but apparently (going off of others’ posts) that’s been confirmed by RT. Problem is, there’s no clear agreement on what pronouns he uses. The original Japanese — which I don’t know how to read — apparently says one thing, the English dub might say another, the fandom talk I’ve heard has agreed on he/him, but the fandom wiki uses they/them, and the Ice Queendom website uses he/him. To be clear, any and all of these work. I feel like I may have unintentionally implied otherwise in another post, but my confusion definitely doesn’t stem from a non-binary character using he/him pronouns (or any set for that matter), only in which set (or sets) is canonical. I’ve decided on he/him simply because the Ice Queendom website is the closest to an official source I’ve come across so far, but again, I’m hoping for further clarification down the line.

Better yet, I’d love some confirmation in the actual show. While it’s great that Shion is joining the cast of RWBY’s queer characters — I wasn’t expecting that! — the fact that I had to find this out via a message on an answered ask, which in turn (presumably) stems from word-of-mouth info gleaned from a RWBY side-show that not everyone in the fandom watches is... not the best way to do things. Especially when we’re already dealing with the confusion of dubs, subs, two companies working on the same product, multiple websites with different information, and a bunch of miscommunication regarding IQ overall. I mean, I want in-show representation as a matter of course, but in this case I also want it to avoid the potential fandom drama of viewers coming at each other for supposedly disrespecting the character. Unfortunately, I can easily picture a future, not too far off, where fans are attacking one another because they haven’t gotten clear information about Shion and are thus, supposedly, attacking a queer character directly. Rather than just, you know, suffering under RT’s iffy communication skills.

Obviously we’re only three episodes in though, so let’s see how it pans out.

After emerging from his awesome purple hat, Shion reveals that he’s tracked some mysterious prey back to Beacon and the initiation might be more dangerous as a result. I got an ask — and have seen a few other posts — about Ozpin’s choice to continue the test regardless. Rather than re-summarizing all my points, I’m just going to reproduce what I’ve already said:

(Anon submission regarding what bad thing Ozpin did): “Its mainly the moment where he is told that the Grimm is here and that the students were in danger, and responds with 'No such thing as a safe initiation test' under the justification that a huntsman should be able to overcome anything, as Zion. And him not telling the kids leads to Jaune and Weiss infections, the latter seems to be what causes the plot

That moment...Especially when we learn what the Grimm is feels, hella callous? Like, Oz in canon has a big rule about making sure people know what they are getting into, as memed as the landing strategy scene is, all the students knew what it was except Jaune as he was not experienced, there was the 'I need to here you say it' scene in volume 3...

So Oz letting his students be in this level of danger ('Be mentally tortured by Grimm as it uses your body as a breeding ground' level danger)and not telling them just to further test them feels different?” - Anon

“Mmm interesting! That didn't even register as terribly callous to me (as evidenced by my earlier confusion lol). Re-watching the scene and thinking it through, there are a couple reasons why I'm pretty okay with Ozpin's response.

First, Shion, Glynda, and Ozpin don't act as if there's much they can do about this grimm yet. Indeed, the fact that Shion was hunting the Nightmare, but only found it when Jaune was totally in its clutches + the fact that he (presumably) hasn't realized there's a second Nightmare possessing Weiss, heavily implies that this is the kind of grimm that's really hard to find until its already got its claws in someone. What are the chances of them finding it in a big-ass forest before the students are infected when, from our perspective, it happens near instantaneously from a single, red-eyed look? Regardless, it's not like Ozpin planned to have the Nightmare involved in the initiation. Shion went off on this "journey," initiation begins, it's already underway with everyone spread out below, and then he unexpectedly shows up and announces that the grimm he's hunting is "here." Does "here" mean specifically the forest? Beacon Academy as a whole? The Kingdom of Vale? I think the forest is implied by him saying the initiation itself might get dangerous... but then Shion leaves? If he knew the grimm was specifically somewhere down below, wouldn't he go join the students to hunt it? The second time around I read it more as, "I know the grimm is somewhere here-ish, in/around/near Beacon, and that means the initiation MAY be more dangerous than usual simply by virtue of students existing in the same area, but even if I knew precisely where this thing was, the chances of capturing it before it possesses someone seem slim as hell. And once it does possess someone we apparently don't know about it until they're sick, unable to wake, and covered in thorn-like bruising — not exactly subtle anymore. Given that neither character noticed being possessed and went days living their lives pretty normally, this thing appears almost undetectable until we're in the danger zone." Based on what we've seen so far, I just don't know what they would have done other than recalled everyone... but then wouldn't the Nightmares just move to the school? Also filled to the brim with students to possess? It doesn't feel like there was a particularly useful plan to implement, other than to watch and wait. So might as well continue the initiation as normal.

Second (and more important imo) Ozpin is pretty callous in the original RWBY too, at least when it comes to facing the realities of being a huntsmen. Yes, he gives people choices for huge, life-altering decisions that they absolutely did not sign up for when attending his academy — "Will you potentially give up your life, or your soul, or your personality, to merge with another person in an experimental fusion to keep the magic you just realized exists safe, Pyrrha?" "Will you help me check up on another magical object, guarded by stupidly powerful villains, after you've only had one year of training because you're literally the only allies I have right now, RWBYJNOR?" None of that was in Beacon's admission info. But fighting and putting themselves near the clutches of dangerous grimm? That's why they're here. You bring up the landing strategy scene and I think it's super telling that Ozpin doesn't refrain from launching Jaune off that cliff. Sure, he explains that a landing strategy is needed... but not how to come up with one. Ozpin knew Jaune was untrained (fake transcripts). He knew, thanks to that conversation, that he had no idea how to survive this fall. He may have even known his Aura wasn't unlocked yet. But this is the reality of being a huntsmen. It's 100% not safe. There's little hand-holding. If Jaune actually wants this he will have to find a way to survive it... and he does! Thanks to Pyrrha's kindness (Ozpin emphasizes teamwork for a reason) and his own head for strategy, Jaune pulls through against all odds. Ozpin wants his students to be kids whenever possible (food fight scene), but he's not blind to the fact that they've all explicitly joined a life-threatening program. We can theorize about whether the instructors watching would have really stayed on the sidelines if something went terribly wrong, but canonically RWBY!Ozpin says that the students are on their own:

“After you've partnered up, make your way to the northern end of the forest. You will meet opposition along the way. Do not hesitate to destroy everything in your path... or you will die. You will be monitored and graded through the duration of your initiation, but our instructors will not intervene.”

Personally, I think he was serious, both because our heroes initially run from the Nevermore (despite winning in the end, that was an encounter out of their league that could have easily killed them, yet no one showed up to help) and because Ozpin ignores Jaune's raised hand, gives cryptic info about landing strategies, and then still launches him off a cliff. Ruby stopped a Dust robbery. Yang attacked a club full of fighters. Blake was a member of an extremist group. Weiss fought another possessed grimm just to have the chance of applying for Beacon. Everyone who has made it this far knows very well that they're living super dangerous lives, trying out for a super dangerous program, so that they can enter a super dangerous career. It’s a combination of, “I have complete faith in the students I’ve chosen to get through these trials” and “They’ve committed to facing such trials in the first place. It would do them a disservice, and put them in more danger in the long-run, to step in every time their back is up against a wall.”

So an additional, unforeseen grimm really doesn't seem like much of a problem to me, or, I would think, to Ozpin. That's the entire point. This job is deadly and unpredictable. Coddling the students now, at this stage in their training (AKA, after four years of places like Signal that already taught them to defend themselves + the high standard required to get into Beacon in the first place), is just going to get them killed down the line. Port has Weiss fight a grimm in the middle of class. Ozpin sends the girls off to investigate a grimm infested city. A villain breaks into the school and Ruby is praised for trying to take her down alone. This isn't a real life, normal school concerned with keeping students safe above everything else, it's a school concerned with putting students in danger so that they can be equipped to handle that off campus too. For me, "No such thing as a safe initiation test" feels very in line with the original webseries and what else we've seen of Beacon's program.

I mean yeah, the Nightmares are absolutely horrific (although I think rescuing Jaune so easily/making his dream so weird undermined a lot of that. I'll get into that more in the recap), but is a psychological attack really any worse than everything else in the initiation? It's just a different kind of danger, not necessarily a worse one. Basically, I imagine a conversation like:

Us: Omg, Ozpin, how could you make them potentially face the Nightmare? You're so cruel!

Ozpin, watching one student nearly fall to his death before an unexpected save, Weiss setting the forest on fire, the group nearly being skewered by giant feathers, almost crushed by the tip of a tail ten times their size because these grimm are fucking huge, dodging collapsing bridges, keeping the Nevermore from swallowing them whole, thrown against stone with a sickening crunch after being told Aura can only survive one or two hits, forced to decapitate this huge-ass monster in order to earn the privilege of doing this shit every day for the rest of their short lives because we've seen like two huntsmen reach old age: ...We're really drawing a line at the Nightmare?

To be clear, I do think IQ!Ozpin is written as way, way, WAY colder than his RWBY counterpart (😭), but the initiation feels pretty similar to me. This Ozpin shrugs off the Nightmare being nearby. That Ozpin sips cocoa as Jaune is potentially launched to his death. Tomato tomahto.” - Me

Continuing on from all that, Shion leaves and we cut to a few of the group enacting their landing strategies. I know IQ hasn’t emphasized them like RWBY did — hasn’t even mentioned them as a crucial skill, really — but I’m still disappointed that we don’t get to see the whole crew surviving a plummet in various creative ways. If my memory serves, it’s just Ruby and Yang, with Jaune also getting caught by Pyrrha’s spear.

More importantly though, I think the landings look... bad? Really bad, actually. Ruby’s isn’t awful, though she seems to just sort of plunge herself into the ground and hop over Crescent Rose, rather than using multiple shots to slow her descent. Yang’s is a mess though. She shoots the cliff-side, grabs a large chunk of rubble that just kinda... hangs there? And then drops? Not only is the animation not as clear about how they’re using their weapons to slow their descent, but the animation just looks plain shoddy to me. It’s a moment where I think it’s obvious where the budget went to (Nevermore fight) and where corners were cut.

Ruby runs off to find Yang only to run into Weiss. After choosing her over Jaune, Weiss pulls her away while muttering that she can still be on Pyrrha’s team even if she’s “paired with [Ruby]” and I’m like Weiss... honey... Ruby is RIGHT THERE. Like you literally have her back plastered to yours. She can hear you!!

Poor Ruby lol.

As they continue on we move to the PoV of something with a red view of the world which, you know, I’m sure is fine! More seriously though, the obvious implication is that this is the (soon to be named) Nightmare grimm, given that it’s clearly an antagonist and looks at first Weiss, then Jaune, both of whom become infected. I suppose it could be a normal grimm like one of the Ursa stalking them, but it doesn’t seem likely. I bring this up in part because the anon quoted above made another good point (in an ask I still need to answer) that Ozpin would have come across as at least somewhat invested in his student’s well-being if he just warned them about the new danger. He doesn’t have to stop the initiation, just give them a heads up.

For the record, I completely agree that this would make his character appear softer, regardless of the outcome, though I am kinda hung up on the practicalities of the situation. Namely, that we apparently see the moment — or the moment right before — Jaune and Weiss became infected and they had NO idea it was happening. They’re both already on their guard in the middle of a dangerous forest (or as on guard as Jaune can be) and Ruby is plastered to Weiss, providing an additional set of eyes, ears, and whatever supernatural senses huntsmen might have going for them. Yet no one noticed the grimm’s attack. No one even had a ‘Huh, that was weird’ reaction that, had they been better informed, might have tipped them off that something was wrong. RWBY and IQ both remain shows where we can only trust the details so far, but if we’re leveling criticism based on what we’ve actually seen on screen, the implication here is that you straight up can’t tell when this thing sinks its teeth into you... so what’s the point in saying, ‘Watch out?’ At least, what’s the point when the victims are spread out in a forest, not easily communicated with, and freaking them out might mess with test results? I know that later Shion will ask Ozpin to “tell the students to remain diligent,” but I took that to mean, “Tell the students to be on the lookout for classmates who see copies of themselves, are developing weird bruises on the back of their neck, and may be sleeping too much.” Or, to put it another way, be diligent about stuff that comes post-possession, stuff that had no bearing on the group while in the forest because even if they know it’s there and encounter it... what are they doing to do?

Based on current info, dealing with Nightmares occurs post-possession. Shion even says that he’s glad he caught it before it grew, perhaps implying that he never expected to catch it before it found any prey at all. Getting it at the start of a possession is the best case scenario.

But, as always, future episodes might blow all that out of the water, leaving us only with a, “Huh, Ozpin really is a callous dick here” reading lol.

What I find interesting about the (assumed) possession scene though is that it’s accompanied by some appropriately creepy music, but then connects to Pyrrha, of all characters. If you re-watch the moment when Jaune finally leaves the tree we move from that red-eyed perspective to him falling, getting hurt on the way down, a black-clad hand catching the spear, something looming over him... and then it’s Pyrrha. Now, normally that’s a pretty standard ‘Gotcha’ moment. We think the evil grimm is coming for Jaune, but it’s just Pyrrha, yay! Thing is, those moments usually cut the creepy music the moment the reveal occurs. Because it’s part of the joke, yeah? You want that contrast between the horror and then Pyrrha’s bubbly self asking for a team-up, one slamming right into the other. But here, the music continues, making the entirety of Pyrrha’s offer feel like something to be wary of.

Now, notably the music continues through to the commercial break where Yang sees something rustling in the bushes. Given everything else that happens in Episodes Two and Three (mostly Pyrrha not being possessed/shown to be plotting something) I want to read this choice purely as a way to maintain the tension as we leave Yang on a mini-cliffhanger. Is it the Nightmare in those bushes? Another grimm? (Yes.) Her beloved sister? Keeping the music does work... it just makes for a very odd moment between Pyrrha and Jaune. As said, right now I’ve decided that it doesn’t actually mean anything, but I’m also going to cheat and say that it DOES on the off chance I’m right lol. If it turns out that Pyrrha has some hand in all this — unlikely as that seems right now — and our musical cue + creepy approach was indeed a bit of foreshadowing, I reserve the right to celebrate.

Post-commercial Ruby shows off her semblance to Weiss who tries to cover her appreciation with a quip about her showing off. They quickly become surrounded by Ursa though, just like in the original fight, though here we have some odd cuts between this battle and Yang’s. Some of the combat in this series absolutely shines, right on par with Monty, whereas other moments... definitely don’t. This is one of them.

I mean, I know the team can’t create super detailed background for every shot, I do honestly know that, but I am HOWLING over these grimm:

[Insert the names of your favorite disaster trio here.]

Seriously though, their movements look really bad to me too, kinda clunky and... not connected well to the ground?

Yang’s fight is a little better (short as it is) though I couldn’t help but note that this is the first time we get to see her in action. Without the Yellow Trailer we have no real sense of Yang’s fighting style and I’ve gotta say, the lackluster landing strategy and Blake killing the grimm from behind doesn’t help show it.

Toss in the Nevermore battle where Yang is forced to mostly maintain her distance and I’m sad that any RWBY newcomers don’t yet know how completely badass her style is. Hell, we don’t even know what her semblance is, or whether she has one in this AU, though I assume she does. Especially when Glynda later comments on Jaune’s lack of a semblance, implying that here the average Beacon student has already unlocked theirs. That would also explain Weiss’ surprised “A semblance?” when Ruby shows off. A semblance isn’t surprising at Beacon, but a semblance from a kid two years younger might be. Toss in, again, Roman’s assumption that Ruby was already a student there.

Weiss tells Ruby to duck at the last possible moment and sets the forest on fire while taking out the grimm. But it’s fine! I guess Dust fires naturally burn themselves out? 😬 Ruby tries to compliment her for the move, but Weiss is determined to read everything as a veiled insult, following it up with one of her own about how all Ruby does is waste Aura and Dust.

The look Ruby has when she gets frustrated and cuts down the tree is... intense.

Honestly, as a horror fan I’m digging the vibes of IQ.

Weiss appears legitimately upset about the perfection accusation — more-so than in RWBY, far as I recall — given that she flashes back to her failure with Winter.

She bitches back that if Ruby is so great she should just forget the rules and do it all herself.

Weiss you tried to cheat. Twice!!

We finally leave them for Nora riding her Ursa and Ren being the bestest of long-suffering not-yet boyfriends.This time, Nora sings that she’s Queen of the castle AND that Ren is King! Very cute.

Ruby and Weiss show up with the Nevermore at their heels and I love how though Blake immediately starts trying to shoot it — you know, like a huntress in training who values her life — Yang is just like, ‘Omg it’s Ruby! Hey, everyone, that’s my sister! :D :D :D”

Absolutely stellar.

Overall, I really enjoyed the Nevermore fight. As I said above, I think this is where the majority of the episode’s budget went and it shows. Weiss’ glyphs in particular are gorgeous — I like the shot of her stopping the barrage of feathers — and we’ve kept all the background action like Yang launching herself into the Nevermore’s mouth. Ruby is LAUNCHED up the mountain and decapitates the grimm with absolutely no mercy, giving us that classic pose at the end. It’s one of my favorite fights in the whole series and I’m really glad IQ did it justice.

Now, having said all that... what the fuck is up with Jaune’s Aura?

@hivemind42 I hope tumblr decides to tag you today, because I’m slamming your ask in here:

Yeah no shade towards Pyrrha, she’s doing her best, but ABSOLUTELY SHADE TOWARD THE WRITING. Literally what was the point of moving this scene? Nothing makes sense now. Jaune, as said, managed to get through the entirety of the initiation without Aura, period. It’s one thing to nearly hit the tree and be okay falling down to the ground, but getting through the Deathstalker fight? That’s absurd.

Except wait, it gets even better:

Jaune remains the impossibly ignorant character who, as established next episode, still comes from a long line of impressive huntsmen, but doesn’t have any idea what Aura is for, who Pyrrha Nikos is, presumably didn’t attend a combat school, etc.

He somehow manages to survive initiation without having his Aura unlocked.

He then goes through an undetermined number of school days, still without it unlocked. This includes facing off against Cardin with their scrolls tracking the Aura it shouldn’t be able to read yet.

THEN Pyrrha unlocks his Aura on the rooftop, maybe taking the place of her training/Jaune’s reveal that he faked his transcripts? If that’s not canon anymore though, how did he get into Beacon?

Later, after he’s been rescued from the Nightmare grimm, Glynda comments that his Aura is pretty damn weak and that’s a boon because it meant the grimm had little to feed on. No more “You’ve got a lot of it.”

The only way I can even begin to make sense of this is by assuming that Jaune did have his Aura unlocked (despite not knowing what it was...) and Pyrrha just somehow unlocked MORE of it, and somehow, despite getting a double dose of Aura unlocking, Jaune still remains so weak that the teachers are commenting on it.

Really though, this feels like a mess. I mean, more of a mess than it is in RWBY, which is really saying something. How is IQ managing to fix so many obvious mistakes and simultaneously dropping the ball elsewhere?

Anyway, the rest of the fight is mostly what we’ve seen before, minus a few cut moments. Ruby no longer charges the Deathstalker which, honestly, I think is a pretty crucial part of her and Weiss’ relationship. I’ll delve more into this during Episode Three’s recap, but Weiss bounces between characterizations a LOT. She hates Ruby. Actually she looks up to her. Never mind she’s an annoyance. She has complete faith in her. She wants to be leader more than anything. She’s changed her mind with Port’s help and wants to be the best teammate. She’s back to doubting Ruby’s capabilities. She’s racist. She’s learning. She’s regressing a scene later. She’s had a breakthrough. She’s forgotten it.

Admittedly, a lot of this is built on the back-and-forth found in the original webseries, but IQ cranks it up to eleven, until in any scene Weiss feels like she’s in a totally different place emotionally than she was a minute ago. Toss in big changes like standing up to Jacques during the test and I feel like I don’t have a good handle on her trajectory anymore. I suppose we could hand-wave a lot of this away with, “The Nightmare attaches to people who are conflicted. Weiss has to struggle,” but it’s happening so often, so fast, and with so few indicators of why she’s grown/backtracked that it feels messy. I bring this up now because, without the Deathstalker charge and Weiss saving Ruby’s life, we don’t really have a moment where she’s forced to reconsider her new teammate. The whole point of that scene is that Ruby’s life was in danger and Weiss acted, revealing that (duh) her attitude is mostly a front and of course she’s going to help Ruby when push comes to shove. Her small admission that Ruby doesn’t need to prove herself to her feels earned. I love that moment for them. But here, Weiss goes from being thoroughly pissed at Ruby (perfection comment/tree cutting), to being chased by the Nevermore, to... clasping her hand?

To suddenly having total faith in Ruby’s strategies and having their ‘I believe in you’ moment during the launch sequence, without the push-and-pull between trying earlier. The fact that this Ruby says, “Please help me” rather than the confident “I have a plan!” highlights that they’re in a very different stage of their relationship here and yet somehow end in the exact same place.

I know I’ve said this at least twice now, but IQ is struggling with not allowing new content to flourish, instead mushing old and new together in ways that don’t always work. This isn’t a massive issue — obviously the story still reads as logical and mostly cohesive overall — but it reminds me strongly of late RWBY content and how the fandom tends to see first-draft events as set in stone. Just like critics will suggest changes, only to be met with push-back because others don’t understand that yeah, if you change one thing then lots of other things will have to change along with it, a domino effect that (depending on the size of the change) will ripple throughout the whole story, IQ seems to be dipping its toe into AU territory and then pulling back, afraid to commit to that influence.

I assume that these problems will smooth out once we reach Episode Four and are in almost 100% new content territory... but then again, will that happen with so many canon conflicts (Roman, Penny, White Fang, Salem) being set up? Idk.

Some last-minute details I enjoyed are that the Deathstalker’s tail starts to disintegrate a little after Ren’s attack, cuing Jaune into the fact that it can be easily cut now. We also see the tail fall and holy shit, the scale against Ren is GREAT. I mean, you know the grimm are big, but that shot really hammers it home.

We get an ominous line from Shion about how “They’ve already found the hiding place” which I’m kinda confused by? If he knows where the Nightmare grimm have hidden (Weiss, Jaune) then why didn’t he do something about it earlier? Episode Three definitely acts like NPR bring that information to him, discovering Jaune’s predicament first. And though we know Shion sensed multiple Nightmares in the forest, why then is there a singular hiding place — “the”? Will multiple grimm hide in the same person? Is Shion, unlikely as it seems, talking about a different “they”? This could simply come down to a translation miscommunication, or maybe it’s actually nonsensical based on other problems in the plot (like Jaune’s Aura), but either way, I’m not sure what to do with this line yet.

We see the team naming ceremony and the cold, fake!Ozpin 😭

(God bless Yang for smiling there THE REST OF YOU LOOK LIKE HORROR MOVIE DOLLS)

Funny, but for the first time it really struck me how frustrating it must be to not just have Ruby be made leader, but have the whole damn team named after her too lol.

We end on a very cute shot of the group celebrating...

... except oh, what’s that?

We already know what it is because I’ve been talking about it the whole recap lol.

A fun cliffhanger ending though! Definitely a divergence from where RWBY left off.

As I mentioned last recap, I have a stupid number of projects to work on atm, so I’ll be taking Episode Three slow. Hopefully I’ll have it posted before the July 3rd premiere — anyone know if that’s just a repeat of Episodes 1-3, or are we getting 4? — but if not know that this is a failure of my own making and I am buried under all the fandom events I signed up for with a stupidly confident, “I can handle it!”

Ah, hubris.

See you next time! <3

#rwby #rwby: ice queendom #rwde #rwby recaps #mymetas

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friend-crow · 2 years ago

Note

I have a relatively reasonable thing to ask, but I am afraid it touches on controversial elements in places.

I am very much a plant person. A lot of my magic happens that way. In my garden, in private, quiet enjoyment of living things growing.

I know about some herbs that can be used for tea (if it is on the shelf at Safeway, I can be generally sure it is safe for human consumption if I can get it and grow it fresh i.e. chamomile and lavender) and I have a variety of things that I grow and use just for that.

If I wish to improve my acumen with both magical and culinary/botanical uses of plants, how would you suggest I proceed? My Mom used to keep a copy of "The Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs" on the shelf in my house, and I have flipped through a copy recently and sort of put it in the "sus" pile.

I have 4 different field guides, including Plants of the Pacific Northwest Coast, which has very good photos and occasionally mentions when/if a plant was used by native peoples if that is known, and in roughly what capacity (generally medicinal).

I know enough about plants to know that phytochemical concentrations vary widely even within species, and that without great care and experienced tutors, trying to use plants medicinally is Quite Dangerous. The danger Triples if you add mushrooms into the equation.

Do you think I should just Leave off the idea of getting better at herbal magic and learning herbal medicine? Is it just toeing controversial lines that are not worth it anymore? Read any good books lately??

Hello hello! Thank for you stopping by, and my apologies for the long time spent in rumination on this. Plants are a passion of mine, but I am far from an expert, and as you clearly know they can be very powerful, and even fatal, so.... obligatory disclaimer because I know you're not the only audience for this post.

I'm not sure there's much I can tell you that you don't already know, but perhaps I can supply a different angle on your existing knowledge, or else point you at some folks who are more knowledgeable than I am.

I think that local field guides and/or foraging books are a great place to start. I have Pacific Northwest Foraging by Douglas Deur, which has been useful in learning about edible native plants -- there were many moments of "oh yeah, that's everywhere and easy to ID" while reading it. Several of the "weeds" growing in my garden already are edible, so that's a good place to start regarding culinary uses.

I also have one on herbalism (The Herbal Apothecary by JJ Pursell -- I honestly don't know how this one ranks compared to other options), which goes over types of herbal remedies and techniques for preparing them, as well as many medicinal plants, though to be honest I plays it pretty safe when it comes to herbal medicine.

Plants like mullein and broadleaf plantain are, to my knowledge, pretty safe (assuming you don't have an allergy to them) and versatile, plus they grow as weeds in the PNW, which makes them easy to forage. They both have internal and topical uses, which means you can get familiar with various preparations with either one of these plants, which I think is a lot of fun.

@wildjuniperjones is an actual herbalist who might be able to give you better suggestions for books and/or ways to safely get into plant medicine than I can. I also get the sense that @elminx might have some insight into this area, or at least works with plants a lot and might have some useful input regarding the larger conversation.

As for magical uses, there are a few different approaches here (and these are just what come to mind for me -- this is in no way comprehensive, I'm sure), the first two of which don't require you to ingest anything at all. Bear in mind that I personally am coming to this from an animist perspective -- much of the magic I do is based on a spirit model, which is great for working with plants, but also might not be your jam.

Some approaches that immediately spring to mind (and all of these things overlap according to my framework, but I list them separately as that might not be the case for you):

-plants as spirit allies -plants as correspondences -achieving altered states using plants

as spirit allies

You already enjoy spending time with plants. I can't recall if you're interested in spirit work as well, but this can be a rewarding avenue, and a way to have a magical and/or spiritual relationship with some of the plants that at least I personally would not be comfortable fucking around with medicinally.

Personally I find plant spirits to be less communicative than, for instance, my ancestral spirits. I've been able to chat with some via divination, but it hasn't been as easy to tease out what they're trying to tell me. Basically plants are not like us, but they have spirits, and you can still form a bond with them by spending time together, observing them, talking to and caring for them. Spirit flight may also be a viable way for you to "meet them halfway" as it were, if you're into that. Over time you may feel comfortable calling on them for assistance in your magical workings.

@windvexer and @stagkingswife are both more experienced spirit workers than I am, and might have useful insight in this area.

correspondences

Personally I'm not into taking those pretty unsourced infographic lists of correspondences at face value -- I like knowing the history and reasoning behind them (because there usually is a reason). However, the more you learn about the medicinal uses of plants, the more you can glean about related magical uses.

A lot of correspondences are also based on folklore. Perhaps you have ties to a culture with plant folklore that you can research.

Coming back to the animist/spirit work angle, as you get to know plants as individuals and understand their spiritual nature, you may be able to recognize additional correspondences. There's nothing wrong with UPG as long as you recognize it for what it is, and you're not presenting it to others as something else.

Personally I don't really consider plant correspondences as ingredients in a recipe so much as friends with relevant skills I can ask for help (kind of like tagging other bloggers to help with an ask when I'm in over my head *cough*).

Putting the part I'm gonna get yelled at for under a cut 🥺

altered states

I'm probably gonna get some flack for this, but once again I encourage anybody reading this to do a ton of research before ingesting anything. This isn't just a disclaimer to cover my ass, it's important. Do the research. Know what you're getting into. Keep in mind any health conditions (mental or otherwise) which might make the use of these substances dangerous to you.

There are many psychoactive plants that I would personally not fuck with in terms of internal (or topical, for that matter) usage. I just don't have the knowledge, and as you say, dosage can be very difficult or impossible to gauge. Some of these substances can do you real harm, and it's not worth the risk to me.

With that said, altered states are a part of much of my magical work, though most often I do not use substances to achieve these states. Some believe that it is counterproductive to do so. Personally I don't feel that way, but it is different, and when it comes to chemically altered states it's important to note that you can't just turn it off -- you have to wait for it to run its course. This can mean sitting with intense discomfort, fear, paranoia, trauma, etc. for hours, and not everybody is prepared to do this.

Cannabis is an easy one to start with (and legal in many states at this point). Personally I prefer strains with low or no THC, but different people react to it differently, and where it makes me sleepy and/or anxious, other people find it eases their anxiety.

Mushrooms (usually cubensis or cyanescens, at least around these parts) are where you're more likely to hear of people having spiritual and/or healing experiences. Personally I had some bad trips when I was much younger, and will likely never do more than microdose at this point. They've been decriminalized where I am, for the record. I'm.... I'm not telling people to break laws, just explaining things that exist 👀

Returning again to spirit work, and this is where I think you would probably get the most enjoyment from this section, if you are interested in experimenting with mushrooms (I mean for all I know you already have and this is kid stuff to you, but whatever): I have known several people who have taken great satisfaction in growing their own mushrooms. I haven't done it myself, though I might try at some point. Obviously research on growing, dosage, etc. would be required.

Also weed. You can obviously grow your own weed, often legally.

I suspect that the combination of A. growing the plant/mushrooms and knowing them personally/as allies B. achieving an altered state using the plants you've cared for and bonded with and C. using the resulting altered state to do magic would be particularly potent.

Flashback to freshman year of college when I took mushrooms with a friend and spent all night theorizing about how "maybe when we get high on plants the plants get to experience consciousness through us, man"... Yeah, that's a bit embarrassing.

Obviously this section is not going to be for everyone, and that is perfectly valid. It is by no means a requirement -- just a possibility.

#ask #promiseiwillwrite #please don't yell at me for posting this

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potterandpreferences · 3 years ago

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The Way To A Man's Heart

Pairing: Ron Weasley x Reader

Setting: Half-Blood Prince; For the purposes of this one-shot, Ron dated Lavender in OotP

When you and Ron had started dating, a lot of people were convinced it would not last. Apparently, the school cohort was under the impression that he and Hermione were going to be the Hogwarts power couple. You could kind of see where they were coming from; there had been a lot of petty jealousy on both sides and there had been a sense that it was playground pigtail pulling. And yet, you couldn't help but think that those people were also selectively blind to how toxic that sort of relationship could be. Honestly if it wasn't for Harry, you didn't believe Ron and Hermione would still be friends six years down the line.

As it was, you had come to be somewhat of a secret friend to Ron Weasley. When he was at odds with his two best mates, he could find some solace in your company. Whether it was playing exploding snap, hanging out on the quidditch pitch (even if your feet stayed firmly on the ground some of the time), or - despite what others would believe - doing homework together in the library.

As a consequence of spending so much time with him one to one, it didn't take long to learn some of Ron's tells. When he was really, truly upset, he went off his food. When he was irritated, he preferred something like a pumpkin pasty or a sandwich, something he could tear into. When he was happy, he'd try some of everything, content with a little of lots until he went in for seconds. When he was feeling a bit down or worried, his preference of choice was a hearty stew followed by a warm apple pie with ice cream, something that reminded him of home.

This particular day it was sunny and one of the warmest thus far. Spring was slowly transitioning into summer, and with it exam season was upon the students of Hogwarts. Sixth year didn't count in the same way that seventh year would, but your continued presence in all your chosen subjects depended on passing all of their exams. And so, along with the sunshine, fifth years and up were also being subjected to the heat fueled by their ever increasing panic, which made sitting outside with a nice cool breeze all the more tempting.

You had been attempting to study in the library, but the librarian had all the windows firmly shut and it got a bit too stuffy for your liking. You checked out the books you required for your first exam, and ambled down the corridors in search of an empty courtyard. It was as you were descending the stairs to the first floor that you noticed a certain redhead stomping towards the doors that led outside, with the proverbial storm cloud raging above his head.

Concerned, you followed. He didn't slow his pace or give any indication that he knew he was being followed, something which raised even more alarm bells. Ron, as a by-product of living with the twins, was usually very aware of someone being on his tail. Ron's long legs carried him to the shore of the Black Lake. He followed the edge around to a little outcrop coated in pebbles and stones. These he grabbed at roughly, before launching them out towards the water with a growl.

"Ron? Are you okay? What's happened?" You approached cautiously, making plenty of noise as you walked closer so that your voice didn't startle Ron into accidentally throwing any remaining stones at you.

"Hermione bloody Granger is what happened!" He yelled.

You made a soft sound of understanding at his near shout. "Want to tell me what she did this time?"

Ron sighed, tossing the last stone into the water as he stared at the horizon for a long moment. Then, he sat down on the roots of a nearby tree and started to explain.

"I was revising for transfiguration. Had one of my old essays out for vanishing vertebrates, you know? Figured looking at where I went wrong on something that's bound to come up on the exam would be a good idea."

"I take it Hermione had different views on the matter?" It really had become something of a thing that your entire year and to an extent the years below knew. Never, ever do anything to get Granger started on how you should be studying, and Ron's mirthless chuckle did nothing to change your previous notion.

"She freaked the hell out. Started having a go at me for having got a P on an essay in the first place, told me it was useless trying to learn from rubbish like that, and then told me if I'd followed her revision schedule I'd have already covered the topic and at this point should be onto the practical wand work," Ron spat venemously.

"You know she's wrong, don't you?" It wasn't uncommon for Hermione to tell Ron that he was doing something wrong, and you knew that being told something repeatedly would make the thought that much harder to shake. How many more times would Ron be able to take unproductive, callous criticism from a snobby know-it-all before the thoughts became a fundamental part of his psyche?

"I know but... she just makes me feel like an idiot! I don't get the theory behind magic at a drop of a hat like she does! Hell, most of us don't. But you make one little mistake in your homework and she gets so bloody condescending," Ron sighed. Many thought he was lazy when he tried to get Hermione to do his homework. In truth, it was so he knew what she was expecting in the essay to avoid a rant - her, not the teacher!

"It sounds like it's gotten worse than normal. Actually it sounds like how she behaved when you dated Lavender last year," you commented. To be fair, dating was a very loose term for what Ron and Lavender got up to. It was too public to be just friends with benefits, but there weren't really any romantic feelings. The PDA was a bit much at times, but it was rarely ever Ron that initiated those instances.

"Ugh, don't remind me. I still have the scars from them birds! Mental, she is," he exclaimed. And yet, as you looked closely, you can't help but notice the tips of his ears were getting very red.

"Wait a minute - you're not dating Lavender again are you?!" His eyes widen in shock and he shakes his head, waving his hands in adamant protest.

"Merlin, no! I don't even - " He pulled a face of disgust. "I mean, I dunno, can't believe I dated her in the first place I suppose. Seems like a lifetime ago."

He was lying (you could tell from the way he fumbled for an explanation), but that was okay. You knew the sentiment was true even if he was sidestepping what he was honestly thinking about. You were curious, but you weren't going to push it. This wasn't the time for an interrogation by any means. Thus, you decided to change the topic entirely.

"Do you still feel up to studying some transfiguration? I have some books from the library and all my notes. I even have some cauldron cakes." When he refused both the studying and the food, you smiled sadly at him. "Okay. Well how about we go down to the quidditch pitch?"

And that was exactly what the pair of you did. You didn't feel like flying, so you sat in the stands and watched as Ron flew for a couple hours. He zoomed around the pitch in patterns you recognised from quidditch practice drills, before enchanting the practice quaffle so that he could work on his keeper skills. You called Dobby when you were sure Ron wasn't looking, and when Ron eventually joined you in stands, it was to find a delicious bowl filled with a generous helping or rhubarb and apple crumble waiting for him.

"I thought you might have worked up a bit of an appetite. Some of those drills looked tough," you admitted when he stared silently in surprise, mouth gaping.

"It's like you read my mind!" was all Ron managed to say before he was practically inhaling the food, shovel sized spoonfuls disappearing with complete gratitude no matter how swift.

"I just know you, Ron," you laughed. It should gross you out how much he ate so quickly, but his only fault at foodtime was talking with his mouth full. None ever spilled on his clothes, and his chin was remarkably clean.

When the pudding was half gone, Ron slowed down enough to process what you had said. "How d'you mean, you know me?"

"Well, when you're really upset, you don't want to eat, but flying makes you happy. When you've had a fight with Hermione, you usually tend to prefer something filling and pies and crumbles are your go to when you're feeling a bit down still."

He stared at you like he'd never seen you before. No one else had ever noticed - or at least mentioned - knowing what he liked to eat and when. Oh sure, lots of people had commented on his appetite and knew him not having much of one was a sign something was wrong, but the nuances? What food went with what situation? That was all you.

And, he realised as he ate in companionable silence next to you, this wasn't the first time you knew what he wanted to eat after having a falling out with his friends or stressed out about exams. The cauldron cakes you had in your bag, he liked to eat them when he was feeling nervous about school work. He rarely saw you eat them though so... did you keep some in your bag just for him? And there were all those other times too, when you just seemed to know when he was actually hungry and when he was just bored.

There was a plethora of things unique about his relationship with you that he adored, and he had sort of had thoughts that weren't strictly platonic about you, but this little insight into how much you knew about the things that went unsaid was what made what he was about to do next feel so incredibly right.

"Er, Y/N, I was wondering... would you like to go on a date some time?"

#ron weasly x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #ron weasley #ron weasley x you

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sebbytrash · 4 years ago

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Through His Eyes - Part Eighteen

Summary - Bucky arrives at the compound to start afresh but you and him have a somewhat colorful past, colorful being that you met him once before as The Winter Soldier and it did not go well. New beginnings, yeah? If you can learn to forgive.

Pairing - Bucky x Reader

Warnings - Angst, denial, self loating, all the sad stuff guys. Also, weird breakfast habits courtesy of one Clint Barton

A/N - Hi, it’s me, trying not to act on the need to reintroduce myself here lol. Anyways, sorry its been forever, again. I fix? Feedback loved and appreciated. <3 HUGE thank you to my other half @manawhaat for taking my scraps and forcing me to do better. I love you.

Through His Eyes Masterlist

"Auntie Mallow, what happened to your face?" Nate asks as soon as he spies you from his place at the kitchen table, running over to tackle hug you. "Were you attacked? Was it by Ninjas? Did you kick butt?"

"Woah, woah, one question at a time, little man," you say, and then pretend whisper, "Twelve of them, butts all kicked."

"Cool!" He shouts, disappearing into the house with a few karate chops.

"Yeah, he's going through a Ninja phase at the moment. He's gonna be dining out on that story for a week." Laura explains, a cup of cocoa already in your hand and hers giving your bruise a once over, a fond smile at the edge of her lips.

"Training accident with Steve. Nothing exciting." She hugs you anyway, warm and kind and everything you need. Laura and her magical hugs, they always soften the edges of even the sharpest of pains. It's why Sam so often referred to her as Mother of All, because she just made you feel seen, loved.

"I'll be upstairs putting the monsters to bed. Shout if you need me." She gives Clint a kiss on the cheek on her way past and his eyes linger on her a little longer as she leaves. Your spine aches from the way he looks at her, a lifetime of love poured in a single glance.

He turns back to you, looks at you in an entirely different kinda way but it doesn't make you ache any less, you wonder if your story is leaking out of your eyes like a kaleidoscope of words and feelings, projected for any and all to see. Laid bare in look alone. He looks at you long enough for you to regret coming, not wanting to deal with any of the mess you'd created just yet, but he surprises you by instead asking, "You hungry?"

He makes you a burger that you readily inhale and then realise just how long it had been since you'd eaten. Clint asks nothing, expects nothing, simply fills your belly and earns a few shaky laughs before ushering you to the barn where a warm bed was waiting.

"This place looks a lot nicer than the last time I stayed here." You smile at the memory and he rolls his eyes back.

"Well, we had some time to convert it to a guesthouse. Not like the last time you and Sam showed up, drank the entire contents of my booze cabinet and passed out in the field." He hugs you again and backs up towards the door, "You're lucky I dragged your asses in here instead of letting you wake up a few fingers short."

“My fingers are grateful.” You laugh, and wiggle them a little, then add, “My back, not so much.”

“Goodnight, marshmallow.”

“Goodnight Clint.”

You wait till he leaves before letting the smile slide right off your face, exhaustion tugging on your bones with weary determination that you're almost grateful for. It means, if nothing else, that sleep might come easy and the pain might subside even for a few hours. You change into the clothes Clint loaned you, sweats and an old S.H.I.E.L.D t-shirt, and dump your stuff on the chair. You fish your phone out of your pocket to send Sam a quick text but realise the battery is dead. Well, if you weren't in trouble before, you sure are now. Tomorrow's problem, you suppose, before sliding into the lavender fresh bed and curling up on your side. Counting your blinks and willing the day to end, desperately trying not to notice how much you miss his scent on your sheets.

When sleep finds you, it comes armed with weapons of anguish laden eyes or the defeated sigh of your name, and your heart tears itself in two when the sighs turn silent. It's a punishment, you think, when you wake that morning no longer sure if you can stand to lose him from your dreams, too. You’ve lost most of the skin around your thumb nail by the time you work up the energy to go to the house, the blood that leaks out of the worried away skin is like a physical representation of your heart. You hate it.

You don’t.

The kitchen is unusually silent when you enter and you wonder how long you spent avoiding leaving your bed when you spot Clint at the counter, eating happily, but horribly, from his bowl. He smiles and tips his spoon, then tips it towards the empty bowl and cereal packets waiting on the counter for you. A cereal buffet.

“Mornin’,” you say, pouring out the sugariest one you can find, “Is that...is that all the cereals in one bowl?”

“Yup,” he grins, “Laura and the kids are away to swim in the lake, so I get to do this.” He scoops a mishmash onto his spoon and has the indecency to enjoy it. Disgusting.

“That is… honestly, I don’t even have words.” You do everything you can not to stare at the grey looking milk that is swirling around in his house of horrors of a bowl.

He fills in the silence with some nonsense, a little laughter and a tale or two about the kids, letting you shake off the sleep, and the dreams, and finish your cereal before he pops the bubble. You love him for it, and hate him for it. A theme, it seems.

“So…” He begins, eyebrows raised in a little ‘tell me’ motion.

“So,” you say, and nothing more.

“Steve called.” That didn’t take long.

“Of course he did.”

“He was worried.” He says, and then adds, not unkindly, “Sam was, too. Apparently, you left without any heads up.”

You huff, “Well, I’m grown. I do what I want.” You throw in a pout for good measure.

“And that means you couldn’t reply to a text?”

You tuck your shoulders at that. “I, uh, didn’t exactly bring a charger.” You hold out the offending item and he sighs, but says nothing, simply takes your phone from you and plugs it into a waiting wire beside him.

“Right.” He waits, knowing your little pout is for show, until the scowl slips into something else. “You wanna tell me about him.”

And so you do, how much you hated him, and then how much you wanted to hate him, and then how much you didn’t hate him at all.

He lets you pour it all out, lets you drain every last drop of guilt and whisper every unchecked secret, the words burst from within that pressure cooker inside your chest. It hurts so much to bare yourself like this that you expect to look down and see blood seeping from a hole in your chest. Instead, you see only granite countertops and blurry hands.

"So, I ended it." You say, flattening your hands on your knees so you don't have to see them shake, see the physical manifestation of your very bad decision making. "It's for the best."

"Is it?" Clint asks plainly. "For him, or for you?"

"What do you mean?" You frown, his words making the hairs on your arms stand up, your body one step ahead as your mind fights to catch up.

"Ok kid, I'm gonna level with you, yeah?" He fixes you with a look that feels very Dad-Like and you bite back a little smile, despite the heavy tone. "I don't think it's a coincidence that you came here, to me, the only other person who might have the slightest inkling what it might feel like being under someone else's control."

"I…," You begin, and then snap your mouth closed as the words settle over you. Was he right? Was it intentional, you wonder, to seek out Clint? No, no...

"You just live the furthest away." You scoff, but not with much luster, doubt creeping in over that wallowing fog.

"You're not running away, kid." He says, confidently, "You're looking for answers."

You consider that for a moment, wonder if there was some remaining strand of hope left in the burnt out tapestry of your want, but you know that even that strand is not enough.

"There are no answers you can give that will fix this." You say sadly, resolutely.

"Why don't you try me?" He offers, reaching out to stop your hands from worrying away the skin around your nails again. Something you hadn't even noticed you were doing.

"I don't think I have any questions?" Even to your own ears, you don’t sound sure. He simply looks at you a little longer, waiting. “Fine, maybe...maybe, just one.” He nods for you to continue. “How did you face Nat, you know, after Loki?”

“After I tried to kill her, you mean?” He supplies helpfully, face graced with that confident little smirk that never really leaves, refusing to balk at it like any sane person should.

“Well...yeah.” You admit, trying not to cringe at your cavalier questioning. This was his idea, after all.

“I didn’t.” He says, “Not at first anyway, but you know Nat, stubborn as hell and she just outright refused to let me have a pity party.” He laughs, “Monsters and magic, she said to me, we weren’t trained for that. And she was right, nobody is prepared for what we went through, or what he went through.”

It’s true, there’s nothing in the world that can prepare you for something like that, so how can anyone expect a how-to guide on getting over it. Or at least, working through it. You doubt there is a therapist in the world that has much insight on these particular demons, god knows they had enough trouble with yours.

You think about Clint now, about how very much a team he and Nat are, even within the team itself. It’s like it never happened.

“But don’t you think about it, that day, when you see her?” You ask, subconsciously zeroing in on what you really want to know. There’s something there, you know it, but you're not sure what it is yet.

“No, not anymore. Maybe initially, but I did the work. Laura helped me work through it, so did Nat.” He looks at you intently, like he just figured something out, frowns a little and tilts his head. “Do you?”

“Do I what?” You ask, watching his puppy dog tilt with confusion.

“Do you think about that when you see him?” Oh. Oh, that.

“No.” You answer honestly, “Not for a while.” It’s the truth. The soldier and Bucky feel so far apart from each other it’s like they’ve never even met. And they haven’t really, you think. One existed exactly over the top of the other.

“So seeing him, being with him, it doesn’t take you back to that time?” He asks, and it feels like he’s getting at something or putting puzzle pieces together the way he words the question, but it’s inherently still the same one he asked.

“No... I mean, it did, of course it did, for a long time. But, like you, I did the work.”

It doesn’t even occur to you what Clint is getting at, as you sit there sifting through what he said and how it overlaps with what you know. So when he asks, your heart suspends in place, simply stopping in between beats like there was a limit and you’ve simply reached it.

“Then tell me, why are you so sure he does?”

“He still has nightmares about me, Clint.” You point out, the fear in his eyes still fresh in your mind, like a brand on your soul you’ll never be rid of. Another stain, another scar. The final matching one.

“He has one bad dream in the what, months, you’ve been together and you think you know what he needs?” You blink stupidly at him, feeling the pit in your stomach extend just a few more inches, digging itself further into your soul. “Look, kid, if you had come here and told me you didn’t feel a certain way about him, I’d be behind you 100%. But you’re denying yourself something here. Is it complicated? Fuck yes. Look at your life, what part isn’t?”

Complicated, ha! The blood in your vein sings angrily at the notion, that you weren’t over here tearing yourself in two just to protect Bucky from himself, from you. That it wasn’t bigger than complicated. Your feelings, whatever they were, they didn’t matter. What was so difficult to understand in that? It’s exactly the reason you were here and not with Sam, although that decision is becoming stupider by the moment.

You start to shake your head, ready to say much of the same to Clint when he holds up a hand, not in surrender but to continue.

“You asked what I see when I look at Nat, now. Well, I see movie nights, and Sal’s pizza, and pissing off Tony and every other memory we’ve made together since then. Isn’t that what you see when you look at Bucky?”

Like a prayer, his name conjures his image in your mind, those smiling ocean eyes, the kind tilt to his smile, the shape of his mouth when he says your name. Not even the ghost of the Soldier hovers. You blink back the tears that are threatening to escape your eyes and answer honestly. “Yes…”

“I’m willing to bet that’s what he sees too.” He smiles at you, sad and sorry. “I remember just after I got back from New York, I had this whole thing about everything being my choice. You know, what missions I went on, when I went on them, what I had to eat - Laura was a saint with that one. There’s just something about it, not being in control of yourself, that unsettles your whole being, right, that every choice I made felt like I was taking something back from Loki. Like I was fighting back even though there was nothing to fight against.”

You reach out and squeeze his hand, his words dropping like stones in your chest, each one adding to that growing feeling, that one you can’t or won’t name.

“So, if this is about him, about protecting him or whatever it is you think you are doing...don’t. Don’t take that choice from him.”

The stones turn to boulders, drag down in your gut and pull till you might tear at the seams, pull and pull till your nerves are screaming with all that guilt, again, that you carry around and the unending pain that follows it. You knew what it was like, you knew, and yet Clint was right, you’d stolen his choices just like they had, when all he’d ever done was give you them.

“Just answer this, okay?”

You nod, but you already know what he’s going to ask and you can’t answer him, don’t know how to. Your whole being is centered around this part of you, this shadowed pain that makes up half of your personality. Who were you if not the half broken remains from behind the green door? How can you possibly move past it enough to...feel that way?

“Do you love him?”

No, you don’t love. You can’t. You like him? Sure. You want him? Absolutely. But love? Unattainable. The ghost of him is there again, sudden and solid, looking at you the way he does, grazing his lips along your cheek that way he does, the gentlest of hands holding you that way he does, loving you that way he does.

Because he does. He loves you and it's awful and terrifying and euphoric. Suddenly, you can’t stand another minute of this war with yourself, with him, with everyone. The fight was always pointless anyway, you’d lost long ago on the dirty floor of a gym where secrets sprouted from pain and bloomed into hope. The boulders grow wings and they lift, letting your chest fill up with that fear and euphoria, shaking off the shackles of your guilt for the last time. You have your choices, so he should have his, right?

There they are, those damned butterflies. “Yes.”

Clint smiles, knew the answer the second he laid eyes on your weary face yesterday. “Then let him love you back.”

TAGS: @manawhaat @theashhole @captainrogerss @higherfurtherfasterbby @peculiar-persephone @captain-rogers-beard @chrisevansnco @howlingbarnes @poealsobucky @samingtonwilson @vintagevalentinexx @abovethesmokestacks @imhereforbvcky @avengerofyourheart @stormy-thomas @danijimenezv @angelicthor @betheboo55 @palaiasaurus64 @raxacoricofallapatoriuspotter @johnmurphys-sass @katbird787 @sexyvixen7 @jobean12-blog @justreadingfics @justareader @smoothdogsgirl @theliarone @aikibriarrose @timeladylaurel @badassbakers @earinafae @crushed-pink-petals-writes @tardis-is-mine @httpmcrvel @bucky2-0 @mocking-rain @sociallyimpairedme @jezzula @bless-my-demons @ign-is @indominusregina @-supernatural-coffee-llama @alwayshave-faith @shifutheshihtzu @mizzzpink @yknott81 @haven-in-writing @xtina2191 @reniescarlett @notsoprettykitty @wickedwerewolf @ayeputita @tatalopes23 @pineapplebooboo @mizzezm @thefridgeismybestie @memory-of-a-goldfish @supernatural-girl97 @standing-onthe-edge @ruinerofcheese @mysweetcookie99

#through his eyes #kale writes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #marvel fanfic

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flowercrown-bucky · 4 years ago

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The Secrets We Hide

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Loki has a secret. A big secret. When Thor needs his help finding Odin, his secret may be exposed.

Authors’ Note: My very favourite reader of my Loki series, Lavender Blue, asked for some more Thor, and whilst thinking about it I got a little carried away

Also Y/N has a last name in this that might make sense if you get to the end oop

If you’re waiting for the next part of Lavender Blue I fucking SUCK at writing smut someone help me-

"Where are we going, brother?" Thor looked curiously at Loki.

He'd been to Britain a handful of times in his life.

The very first had been sometime during what would later become colloquially know as the dark ages, in the early sixth century, he was inclined to believe. Earth, he had found, was wholly unremarkable, if England was anything to go by.

It was on this occasion that he had learned of his brother's magical talents, travelling on horseback through the countryside. He'd stumbled onto a (Remarkably small, he noticed) kingdom, ruled over by a gentleman by the name of Arthur. The real shock, however, had come to him upon entering the banquet hall in his host's castle, only to find his younger brother - who was, needless to say, not pleased to see him - sat next to his host. The lengths he'd gone to disguise himself were commendable, and the beard he'd magicked up was impressive, but there was no mistaking the mischievous twinkle in the eyes of Loki of Asgard.

However, the England Thor found himself in now was a far cry from the country of his memory. Winchester, he had been informed, was where the bifrost had brought them, but the cobbled streets he was walking on were about as unfamiliar to him as unicorn land.

Loki, however, definitely knew where he was. He had clearly been here many times before.

He'd replied to his brother's questioning with a disparaging look, continuing to walk on. All Thor knew about where they were going is that it had something to do with where Loki had placed their father three years ago. As for his personal theories? His mind was drawing a blank.

Eventually, Loki came to a stop in front of a single house within a terrace. A tall, unremarkable house, by all means, built with honey-coloured sandstone, the paint on the windows flaking with age, several panes baring the circular marks of a pontil. Three tall steps led to the front door, and the view of the living room through large window next to it allowing some insight as to the nature of its inhabitant.

Through the hazy glass, Thor could see a remarkably cluttered, disorganised room. A large leather armchair sat in the corner of the room, worn from use and decorated by a patchwork quilt. A similar rug lay on the wooden floor, a tapestry of fabric scraps. Opposite the TV was a grey cord sofa, upon which a number of odd and brightly coloured socks were strewn.

It was fairly safe to assume, Thor reckoned, that the inhabitant of this house - who was currently upstairs, based on the light coming through the window - was not his father.

So what the hell were they doing here?

Loki's three short raps of the knocker elicited a response from the house's inhabitant. They could hear them scurrying down the stairs and towards the door, and fumbling with the lock before opening it.

The woman on the other side was not what he was expecting.

The arrival of your visitors had come as somewhat of a shock to you, that much was apparent from your face. The second thing Thor noticed, was that you clearly knew Loki.

Your hair, slightly damp from the shower, was pulled up on top of your head, secured by a scrunchie, the deep green shade of which complimented your eyes. You were dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a red woollen jumper, your feet bare save for a silver ring around the second toe on your left foot and chipped nail polish on your toenails.

The third thing Thor noticed about you, was that you were very pretty.

"Father?" His voice came out as a squeak.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his brother laughing.

"Your father I most certainly am not." Your right eyebrow quirked bemusedly, crossing your arms. "But this is a surprise."

"Sorry, I must've forgotten to mention it." Loki grinned at you. "Can we come in?"

You stepped aside, beckoning the brothers through the door and into your home. You shot Loki a pointed look as he entered, prompting him to roll his eyes and, begrudgingly, remove his shoes and place them neatly by the door. In the interest of remaining polite, Thor followed suit.

"I take it this is not a social visit?" You asked, leading them into your kitchen.

The kitchen, Thor noticed, was nice. Homely. Small, but still, homely. The stone floor was cool under his socked feet, although his left being slightly warmer than the right led him to suspect your floor was central-heated, and the aga opposite him would probably heat the entire house. The beams supporting the ceiling were low enough that he'd hit his head twice, although he had noticed Loki had ducked, his posture automatically slouched so as to avoid collision.

Loki had clearly spent a lot of time in this house, in this kitchen.

You hopped up onto the counter, crossing your legs at the knee.

"Perceptive as ever, I see." Loki chuckled. "Although, my manners seem to have momentarily lost me. Y/N, this is my brother, Thor. Thor, this is Y/N Hudson. She's.... She's a friend of mine."

Thor did not miss the curious glance you shot at his brother.

"As delighted as I am to see you, Loki," You rolled your eyes. "What do you want?"

"It would seem that my dear brother has managed to lose our father." Thor glared at the dark haired man.

"I would dearly love to know how exactly one goes about losing one's father." Your lips quirked into an amused smile.

"And you're the only living being on this dull little planet who's capable of finding him." Loki ignored your attempt at riling him, catching your gaze.

"I don't understand." Thor furrowed his brow. "What are you, a witch? Do you have some sort of tracking abilities?"

"No, she's just very intelligent." Loki corrected. "Would you give Y/N and I a moment alone, brother mine?"

Thor nodded gruffly, watching you hop off the counter and walk out of the kitchen, into the room he'd first seen through the window.

He did not miss how his brother bit his lip as he looked you up and down.

Your front room was Loki's favourite place on Midgard.

It might even be his favourite place in the nine realms.

It had quickly become his bolt-hole, his safe place. It was the first place he'd ever been shown true kindness, where you'd brought him after you found him in a back alley, dying and alone. It was where you'd laid him on the sofa, where he'd been tucked under a blanket for the first time, where he'd drunk his first ever cup of midgardian tea. It was where you'd allowed him, a complete stranger, to rest and heal.

It was where he'd returned to pester this annoying, intriguing little human being, a process within which he discovered you were possibly less annoying and entirely more intriguing than he'd initially assumed.

He trailed his fingers across the back of your sofa absent mindedly, staring at the rings on your coffee table. You had a habit of leaving half-drunk, cold cups of coffee on this table - hence, the rings - something that irked him to no end.

The long hairs on the cushion caught his eye, and he wondered where the furry little beast might be hiding. Your cat, Kenneth, did not like Loki, a sentiment he wholeheartedly reciprocated. If you weren't so fond of it, he would more than happily fling the little monster into some unreachable pocket of a distant dimension.

His eyes reached where you'd perched on the arm of your armchair, one leg stretched out in front of you. He allowed his gaze to lazily climb the length of your body, taking all of you in.

Gods, did he love your legs.

"I've missed you, darling." He grinned up at you.

"I've not seen you for two weeks, Loki." Your voice was slow, deliberate. "And you come to me now, because you need me?"

He bit his lip, you had him there. He never was quite sure how to gauge your emotions, never sure how you’d react. Everything you did was carefully considered.

Even after all this time with you, you were still something of an enigma to him. It was one of the things that had initially drawn him to you, one of the things that he loved about you.

"On the contrary, my sweet." His voice had dropped, so much so that he was almost purring. "I always need you."

"Don't you try to charm me, silvertongue." You raised one finger in front of you, pointing it at him; a warning.

"Is it working?" He raised one eyebrow at you as he spoke.

"I'll let you know." You grumbled.

A soft chuckle left his lips, crossing the distance between you in two strides, dropping to his knees before your outstretched legs. He glanced up at you inquisitively, a massive grin stretching across his face at your nod of confirmation.

Gently, he lifted his hands up so his fingertips pressed at your stomach, at the little gap of skin between the bottom of your jumper and the waistband of your jeans. His fingers slid gently under your jumper, taking the woolen garment with it until his palms were flat against your stomach.

"Hey, little one." He cooed. "I can't believe how tiny you are. I can barely see you."

You laughed quietly, bringing your hand down to rest on top of his much larger one. He kissed the soft skin of your slightly swollen belly, and the intimacy of the small gesture made your heart swell with love and affection for both him and the child growing inside you.

"I wonder if they'll be blue." You mused, running your fingers through the ends of his hair.

"Why, in the name of all things unholy," He looked up from his ministrations. "Would it be blue?"

"Because, you're, well, you know..." You waved your hands expressively. "Nevermind. I had a scan a few days ago, do you want to see?"

You fished in your back pocket, pulling out a small folded piece of paper.

Desperation was not something Thor was used to.

However, in that moment, it was exactly what he as feeling.

He'd crossed his legs, he'd shifted his weight from leg to leg uncomfortably. But however hard he tried, he just could not shift the feeling. He needed to go to the toilet, and he needed to go to the toilet badly.

As the age-old saying went, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

He'd uncomfortably wandered towards where he'd seen you and his brother wander off to.

What he was not expecting to see, was Loki knelt between your legs.

His hands flew up to his face, shielding his view. He'd seen this before, and it scarred him for life.

What even had he seen?

His brother, kneeling between the legs of a mortal woman. Your jeans, he noted, were entirely done up.

Loki was kissing your stomach, caressing it, a dark piece of paper clutched in his other hand.

"Your daddy loves you so, so much," His brother had whispered to your stomach. "But don't give your mummy too much grief, ok?"

Words escaped Thor.

This woman Loki had brought him to, was pregnant. With Loki's child.

He cleared his throat, startling both you and his brother. Loki scrambled to his feet, anxious about being caught in such an intimate moment with you.

"I needed the toilet." Thor's voice came out in a much higher pitch than his intention.

"On your left." Loki's voice was barely a croak, his voice hoarse.

"I'm okay," His voice came out in a more nervous way than he was expecting. "Congratulations are in order, I think?"

"Yes." Loki's voice was gruff, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Thank you, brother."

"Thank you, Thor." You smiled warmly at the god.

"Anyway," Loki was evidently in a hurry to change the subject. "Do you know where the Allfather is?"

"He's in Norway. That's all I know. He's hidden himself well." You rubbed your chin thoughtfully. "But I do know a man who might be able to tell you more."

Loki's lips curled into a satisfied grin.

Thor's state of confusion remained long after they left your house. He was, as the mortals would say, totally gobsmacked.

Unable to provide the location of Odin, you'd handed Loki a neatly folded piece of paper. As far as Thor knew, his brother had not yet opened it.

Loki had kissed you passionately before he left, an uncharacteristic display of affection and one that made Thor deeply uncomfortable. He'd cleared his throat in a pitiful attempt to stifle a laugh, met only by his brother's middle finger in his face.

Rude.

He glanced at his brother as they walked. He'd not said a word since they’d left, but his hair was mussed from your fingers and his cheeks flushed from your embrace.

“I’m shocked.” He mused. “A woman - an attractive woman - likes you.”

“Harsh.” Loki frowned. “And she didn’t, at first. Like me, that is.”

“Smart woman.” He chuckled, eliciting a punch from the taller of the two.

In his many, many years of existence, he would never have guessed that Loki would be the first of the two of them to become a dad. He never would’ve even imagined his brother as a father in his wildest dreams.

In all honesty, he had never imagined a woman taking Loki as her lover.

He shuddered at the mental image. Yeugh.

“Congratulations, I guess.” A sudden fondness overwhelmed him. “Dad.”

“They are everything to me.” Loki’s voice was clear, concise in a way he had never before heard from his mischievous brother - he was, after all, the God of Lies. “I would gladly give my life to save theirs. I’d give yours, for that matter.”

“Your sentiment is touching.” He grunted. “Anyway, where are we even going, brother?”

He turned to his suit-clad little brother, watching him withdraw the piece of folded paper from his pocket. He unfolded it carefully, revealing your delicate, printed writing.

S. Holmes

221B, Baker Street, London.

#loki x you #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson smut #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston x reader #loz writes loki

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a-bottomless-curse · 3 years ago

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𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

—001. WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE SMELL LIKE?

It normally depends on the situation. Before she entered Yharnam (for the second time) she often smelled like ink, parchment, medicinal ointments, faintly floral via candles, and rain. After entering Yharnam, her connection to the sea (particularly with her habit of having high insight) grew stronger and she starts smelling constantly of sea salt.

The rest of her usual scent depends on if she’s been able to have a break from the hunt or not. If she hasn’t, then she smells of dried blood, rust, the muffled scent of mint leaves (the leaves she carries in order to give her some clarity when she struggling during the hunt to gather her thoughts, either by smelling them and getting that shock to her system with how strong her sense of smell is combined with the already strong scent of mint, or to eat for similar reasons), metal shavings, and the subtle scent of the oil she uses to keep her blade and the thread clean and easy to use.

When she is able to take a break from the hunt though, she still smells of sea salt of course, but she is also more likely to smell of herbs (from her lotions and ointments for her back), mint in particular, as well as whatever flowers or floral candles she manages to get her hands on (preferring scents like lilac, lavender, rosemary, honeysuckle, mint, chamomile, and other soft florals). She occasionally ever will wear mellow perfumes (if she decides to attend a service, this is normally when she wears them), as well as her paints and the ink she uses for writing.

—002. WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S HANDS FEEL LIKE?

Partially calloused, with the most noticeable ones being on along her palm where she grips her Threaded Cane, the pad of her thumbs, and between the knuckles of her index and middle fingers, where she holds paintbrushes and ink pens. However, she does lotion when she can, and with her gloves protecting her hands during the hunt, the callouses are not necessarily immediately noticeable, they are still present and never go away.

—003. WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY EAT IN A DAY?

Given the lifestyle that Hunters have, she tends to stick to either easy to carry snacks, or small meals that quick and easy to both eat and prepare. Cooked or raw vegetables, dried fruits, cured and dried meats (usually beef jerky sticks), slices of bread, and nuts carried in cheese cloth or designated bottles/packets on her person are the most common snacks she’ll have on her person. If she is able to, she’ll also bring three separate flasks with her while patrolling the streets. One of saloop, one of bone broth, and one of either tea or alcohol (or spiked tea on occasion). These flasks are specifically so that she can maintain protein and sugar levels if she needs to move fast, and the alcohol flask is for dulling pain when she hasn’t been hurt enough to feel the need to take blood.

When she finds the time to cook, she makes a lot of stews (particularly beef and vegetable stews), knows how to make her own jellys and jams and about a quarter of her pantry is filled with them, along with plenty of pies. Meat pies, mince pies, vegetable pies, and fruit pies. She makes a lot of them. Most of the meals she has revolves around getting a lot of protein in her body considering her lifestyle. But she also makes sure to have something sweet when she can, usually either with small cakes (including tea cakes), honey (when she can find it), sugarplums (when she can get the ingredients together), or something like bread pudding since that can last for a couple days at least.

A look inside her pantry will show that she has; jelly and jams of a variety of easy to make flavors, bottled bone broth (for when she’s tired but needs something in her body), plenty of stored jerky, shelves of root vegetables or any sort of vegetable that has a long shelf life, bottled honey/honeycomb, bottled dried fruits and nuts, and a sizeable collection of various herbs/roots for cooking.

—004. DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE A GOOD SINGING VOICE?

She doesn’t sing much, preferring to hum more often than not. However, one of the skills her mother wanted her to learn, that her grandmother and school teachers taught her though, was the art of singing. She likes to sing lullabies oddly enough, and there what she’ll normally hum to herself when she’s working or doing something. She’s comfortable in both the Mezzo and Alto ranges, though she tends to be more of a lower-range Mezzo more often than not.

—005. DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY BAD HABITS OR NERVOUS TICKS?

Popping her knuckles is a bad habit she has that first came about when she entered school and needed to do something to subtly (ish) relieve tension in classes but only got worse once she was diagnosed with an illness and back issues. Chewing on her bottom lip became a bad habit in her younger years when in Yharnam that stuck with her throughout her life (even though her hated it as she was apparently ‘ruining her own value to future husbands’). Tapping her fingers against any surface, specifically if she is deep in thought (or thinking about things that trouble her) or simply because she’s waiting for something to happen is more of a nervous tick for her. She also shifts her weight and will slightly bounce on the balls of her feet for similar reasons.

—006. WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY LOOK LIKE / WEAR?

Linen shirts, embroidered vests, leather overcoats, Hunter gear, top hats and hats of a variety really, gloves (including archery gloves), neckties (slim and simple or fancy and large, depends on her mood), lace and satin frocks, satin or linen nightgowns/nightshirts, linen or cotton trousers, riding trousers and boots, leather boots, cotton ‘adventuring’ clothes, soft slip ons, simple dresses, petticoats of cotton & linen, the occasional ballgown, rings & earrings & necklaces (particularly lockets and anything with rocks embedded in the jewelry). Overall, she likes to go for a ‘lady gentleman look’ or for the look of a wandering writer. She also likes having clothes where she doesn’t mind getting dirty in (as in, going into the woods and not carrying if dirt/sap or anything of that matter gets on her). Lots of purples, blues, and greens, but also black & white, and some pastel colors (such as pink) that match her mood.

She tries to keep her wardrobe full of clothing that matches all aspects of her personality/moods and what she likes to wear regardless of her upbringing. She normally stays away from the fancier side of her clothing (minus the jewelry) and likes her clothing to be lightweight (hence so much linen) as well as easy to move in. Much of her wardrobe started to form in this way as an act of rebellion against her mother who wanted her to always look dressed up/doll like

—007. IS YOUR MUSE AFFECTIONATE? HOW MUCH? HOW SO?

Oh yes, of course she is. So much of her actions, of her beliefs and decisions and drive come from love, specifically loving others. Being deeply affectionate was bound to follow and be such a deep set part of her as a person. Even though she has a strange relationship with receiving affection, it’s an intrinsic part of her nature to give both love and affection frequently and freely whenever she can. And, in this, she tries to be honest to those who receive her affection about why and how deeply she cares for them. In the same vein though, she doesn’t want to come across as forcing others into loving her, particularly due to deep-seated trauma in being treated (and even told on occasion) by her parents that she can not be loved for who she is without changing or hiding her true self away. So, while she tries to find a balance between being open and honest about her feelings and affections (whether platonic or romantic), more often than not she will lean into showing through subtle (and not so subtle) gestures, because she doesn’t want anyone she loves to even for a moment think that she does not love or accept them.

In order to show her affection, she will do a few things frequently: seeking to spend a lot of time together, gentle touches (the brevity of which depends on how she feels the touch might be received), cooking for them, discussing topics of interest with, carving out moments of peace and calm that they can enjoy without worrying about immediate bloodshed. She will also try to grow more familiar with those she cares out, both silently (usually making mental notes of mannerisms, small things they say in passing that seem important, and learning to read body language) and by asking simple questions that can lead them to discusses themselves. She also likes to give gifts, both bought and handmade, to those she cares about as a reminder that they are thought of and cared about. Endearments and being vocal (either subtly or bluntly depending on who she’s talking to) about her affections and feelings are also common things for her to do. And lastly, she will sacrifice for them nearly whatever they ask.

Out of all the above, spending time together, either in calm and comfort or watching over them during a hunt by going together, is Kaydens’ favorite way to show affection as spending time together usually makes it easier for her to show her affections for those she cares about. However, she prefers the calm and comfort as a setting to spend time together given that it opens more windows for vulnerability and allows for the softer and small intimacies to show themselves more freely.

—008. WHAT POSITION DOES YOUR MUSE SLEEP IN?

If she makes it to her bed, then she likes to lay on her stomach, partially starfished, or on her side leaning on/against some pillows. If she makes it to her couch, then she normally falls asleep on her back with her hat on her face. If she doesn’t make it to either of those places (such as, she needs to sleep outside her or a close companions home), then she usually will sleep with her back against a wall and upright, or sitting down/curled up in a ball with her gun in hand in a hidden location. She can sleep in just about any position, but she prefers those.

—009. COULD YOU HEAR YOUR MUSE IN THE HALLWAY FROM ANOTHER ROOM?

If she doesn’t want to be heard, then she won’t be. She’s learned, from when she was a child sneaking through her parents home to read and write unsupervised, how to balance her weight and move in tandem with her clothes and even jewelry so that she’s not heard or that whatever soft sounds she makes blend in with the background, even if it’s just the wind. She’s able to keep up this stealthily movement ability up until she needs to full out run, in which case she is more likely to be heard, but only briefly.

The more likely reason she could be heard in the hallway from another room is if she has a frenzy moment, or if she got caught up in her thoughts and started humming or working through her thoughts via talking to herself. Otherwise, she’s normally very quiet with her movement.

Tagged by: @derjaegermond (thank youuu!)

Tagging: again, don’t know really who’s done it yet so, anyone who wants to do this steal it and do it :D

#about kayden #kayden aesthetics #words from the ghost || ooc

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dramionediscussion · 4 years ago

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I read the recent post about divination, and now I have some serious doubts. Like did I misunderstood entirely what the whole divination thing canonically is? I’ve read books couple of times, seen movies once, but it’s been awhile. I’ve read a small library of fanfics (99% Dramione), so I am no way a HP canon-lore expert. But that post left genuinely puzzled, like how does it go canonically? Was Hermione basically right or not? I would be grateful, if someone could either correct or confirm, whether my understanding of HP canon is true or not, please! As I understood it, divination sort of is “real”, but in a quite nuanced way, and that Trelawney’s class didn’t (and probably couldn’t) teach “true divination”, and it was a waste of time for students wishing to learn that skill. Certain people simple are “true seers”, and this clairvoyance ability cannot be acquired or learned (at least in a controlled or widely understood way). It was heavily hinted at, that the talent is in-born, and possibly entirely hereditary, or at least considerably so (the reason for Trelawney’s job interview was that she was related to a famous seer). Although, it’s also implied that astromancy is an exception, and via astronomy even those who are not seers can foresee future events to some degree (though it seems there’s large qualitative difference between these predictions and those made by “true seers”. Astromancy seems to be predicting very generalized trends, instead of specific events or happenings of individual people). However, this is more an impression one gets by the gravitas and dignity granted to Firenze and centaurs contra Trelawney (I think, Firenze did make accurate predictions, but they were so board and vague, thus is not clear whether they were just educated guesses or true foresight). If I recall no true predictions are made by any other method (Trelawney taught and practiced at least cartomancy, tasseomancy, and crystallomancy. Maybe also chiromancy and some others, which I don’t remember atm). More than that, it seems that true prophecies are not produced via any method, but rather received uncontrollably and involuntarily without any conscious effort or will. All this leaves many open questions and a lot of room for quite different interpretations. The only seer we see in a great detail is Trelawney, and it’s not clear whether her circumstances were universally applicable or just particular to her. Like, do all true seers make their predictions by falling into an uncontrollable trance, or do some of those methods work for some other seers at least? Can this talent be cultivated or honed in any way? Can one manipulate circumstances for receiving these predictions? At least some portion of the wizarding world seems to believe, that divination is accessible to basically anybody, because the ministry approves teaching of it, and there’s learning material and curriculum beyond Trelawney. Though, the ministry seems to treat reading tealeaves different from true seers’ predictions, which are gathered and organized in by the department of mysteries, unlike Harry’s or Ron’s schoolwork. There’s also a faint possibility that some form of milder divination is possible (something like predicting whether you will have a good day at the work by reading tarot cards), and Trelawney was just incompetent at teaching it. Existence of true seers doesn’t exactly logically contradict existence of lesser divination by non-seers. Still, the view that the only real divination is by done true seers (and possibly astromancy) seems to be canonically most likely, or the one JKR tried to convey. These other forms of divinations and omens are just wizarding superstitions some believe, including at least partly the ministry itself (like do the wizengamot or ministers consult diviners before making decisions. Or is it taught simply due a political inertia, like some atavistic custom or tradition from the past. Or perhaps divination is not there to teach the art, but to screen for potential seers from the youth). I think, Hermione did acknowledge fairly early that there are true predictions, by true seers (at least I don’t think she ever objected when the whole chosen one prophecy was brought up, and she seemed to treat the affair with a total sincerity). Even if Trelawney was mostly a fraud, and her class a waste of time (my canonical understanding), and she was right in her criticism. It might not still be the real reason she quit the class, or it could’ve been at least only partial reason. If we imagine a different turn of events, and let’s say that Trelawney would’ve taken an instant liking to her, and praised her efforts and rewarded her with approval and good grades. Would’ve she dropped the course anyway, or rationalized herself believing truthiness and benefits of Trelawney’s class? Would her general opinion about divination change, if she was admired and accepted by her female peers, instead of ignored and shunned? As I interpret Hermione’s character, it’s impossible to give a good answer to that, because in the canonical version the truth about Trelawney and divination in general is also both socially and emotionally convenient to Hermione. Being a multidimensional character, it’s very hard to say, how she would act in different circumstances, or what are all factors, which possibly influence her behavior and choices. I think, it’s a fair characterization to say that she clearly prices truth and objectivity in knowledge, beyond simple social or emotional utility. She pursues knowledge and truth at least partly for her own curiosity, pleasure and integrity. In the other hand, it’s also true that she places a great importance and trust on authorities and she can be extremely authoritarian in knowledge (though her hierarchy is not exactly the official authority like the ministry, or the Daily Prophet, but this informal community of wizarding experts and academics who produce the books she loves, relies and trusts so much. And of course Dumbledore and Mcgonagall, and other exemplary Light side wizards and witches). She craves attention, praise and acceptance and recognition of not only authorities and the wider wizarding world, but also those around her. I don’t think, there’s plausible answer for that, if she had a serious internal conflict between those two different sides of her personality. Canonically there’s no conflict, and her course is relatively clear on the matter. I would rate both outcomes in the case of conflict equally likely. That she would’ve continued divination, if she was “good” at it, and also that she would’ve dropped it, because her academic integrity. There are situations in which, she socially and personally inconveniences herself greatly, like telling Mcgonagall about the Firebolt, but it’s not exactly comparable, because she also believed that Harry could’ve been in a mortal danger. Besides, even if there was exactly comparable situation canonically, people are not always consistent on their priorities, and they might sometimes act quite differently in almost exactly similar situations. Personally I am quite conflicted about JKR’s whole “Hermione is not like the other simpering girls”-bit. In most situations, when it raises its head, I find it quite infuriating (especially with her appearance). Often it is just a desperate and egotistical way to promote oneself, and denigrate feminine traits and behavior. In the other hand, I’ve witnessed this happening in my own life (not to myself, but to people around me). Not a gender dysphoria or anything, but more like tomboys and girls who simply were not interested in things almost all other girls in their age-group were, and they got heavily ostracized and bullied for that by majority of girls. I can understand that certain women genuinely feel like that, and kind of objectively are not like other girls (in good and ill), and have issues with female friendships and female peer-groups. It’s hard to say how common that is, but also I don’t like this idea of trying meme into reality that all women are automatically natural friends and allies with each other, and that the fiction should also reflect this. Or that only reason why this isn’t so, is some outdated beliefs or cultural practices, which can be easily remedied by simple education. Frankly, I don’t think it’s real to that extent, and trying to pretend it is, will lead to harmful outcomes for women, who will go in their lives trusting in it. Women do have shared interests as women, and there’s shared commonalities with other women, which are not shared by men. There’s kind of a sisterhood of mutual understanding and joy in friendships and kinship with other women as women. But in the other hand, there’s also a lot of rivalries and conflicts within the same sisterhood. Still, the way she disparagingly frames Lavender’s and Parvati’s interest in a divination, as silly, superfluous and fake, is more in line with the former approach. It’s rather cheap jab towards astrology and women who enjoy or practice it. It’s hard to know even where to start with that, because women basically never base serious decisions in it. Mostly it provides them a framework and starting point to discuss different temperaments and personality types in people. Also, it’s just a little (harmless) excitement and bringing some enchantment back to the dreary and banal world and mundane routines most people suffer through. Nobody lost their house because of astrology, unlike men’s many astrologies, like cryptocurrency and “beating the markets” investment models and schemes. Besides, interestingly enough there’s some truth to astrology. unlike I-LOVE-SCIENCE midwit sceptic-bros believe :P

-----

Edit:

According to the HP WIKIA:

Divination is a subject taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It teaches methods of divining the future, or gathering insights into future events, through various rituals and tools. The magic taught in this class, as well as the ability to say prophetic things is a branch of magic referred to as "divination."

So basically, while yes you have to possess the ability to "see", you as a regular witch or wizard can learn certain skills for divining. (Divining is an actual thing; To divine is the discover something by guesswork or intuition).

The WIKIA also says:

Divination is an elective subject available beginning in a student's third year. Students study a myriad of ways to scry information about the future, including tea dregs, crystal balls, visions, and Astrology and horoscope charts. Other methods of divining the future include smoke patterns, dreams, tarot cards, and the interpretation of prophecies, though the latter is quite rare. Guides and textbooks allow students of Divination to discern or translate what observed symbols intend to mean.

It's like here in the real world, some people believe in these things, others don't. But I think in the magical world, I'll personally will be more likely to believe in these things. And they seem like something kids should be exposed to a bit.

I think the problem was with the teacher. She probably wasn't the best person to teach and introduce these ancient and maybe not so widely used methods to the children. She is seen in the books/movies as bit of a nutjob, but she made that predicition about Voldy and Harry and so Dumbledore hired her to keep close incase she made probably more prophecies. It's funny though, everyone laughs about this subject and mocks it's teacher, but they whole heartedly believe the prophecy because Dumbledore says he believes it. Harry and his friends even broke into the Ministry to find it. So they take his word, but completely disrespects the actual person who made the prophecy in the first place. Makes sense -_-.

Hermione, she is a muggleborn, so of course she immdiately goes with logic and reasoning and science. It must have been hard for her to learn that magic is real and learn about this new world (even if she was excited about it). The thing with other subjects is that the results are immediate. When she casts a spell, it works automatically, it does what she told it to do. When she makes a potion, it looks/smells they way the books said it would and after using it, she sees/feels the effects. Divination isn't like that, you cannot get immediate results. You have to wait years for some things to happen but it may not always since other factors can influence it and completely change it.

So even in this magical world, she still operates with logic and facts and immediate results, just like in the muggle world. That's why it was difficult for her to "get" divination. Add on a rather incompetant teacher, a stressful third year where she overloads herself; it makes sense for her to just call it bullshit and quit. Maybe if the teacher did indeed like her and gave her praises, she may have not left so easily; she gets praises in other subjects and yes it does seem like she craves it. Hermione is incredibly Type A!

JKR admitted to basically modelling Hermione as herself. So if you think that Hermione's character was unnecessarily mean to Lavender and Parvati, JKR wrote it that way, maybe because she herself feels that way about women/girls like that. Should she have done that? No. Many girls loved Hermione, many saw themselves as her. There isn’t many nerdy girls who save the day in movies and shows and books. So reading about Hermione being popular and smart and liked and having awesome friends and saving the world, defeating evil, was amazing! But as an adult, looking back on things, you realise that Hermione is very much a "not like other girls" girl, and not in a good way. She is very condesending especially to other girls or people who are not as smart as her. And that isn't a good message to send to girls who relate to this character. And it tells you a lot about JKR herself (if her twitter didn't already)!

- Lisa

#dramione #submission

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hideawayintheimaginationworld · 4 years ago

Text

I am Machine Character Headcanons-

Lefty Alec Roberts Helpy

Alec Roberts (Protagonist of Lonely Freddy)

15 years old, soul is completely confined to a Lonely Freddy (he can't break free without the use of magic).

Over some time, he has gotten use to the body and is able to move easier, in the beginning, he really struggled to walk but now he can do things quicker.

Mouth moves when he talks but his voice is projected from the speaker, it sounds like it's coming though a radio when he talks (it nearly scared him to death when he heard it for the first time as he thought he might never be able to talk again).

Personality changed since Lonely Freddy, he is more anxious, depressed and afraid. But he slowly opens up to Lefty and Helpy.

Alec admittedly feels abandoned by his family, he reasons they should have known him well enough to be able to tell the differences between him and an imposter, and because they can't tell the difference he feels alone.

Alec is not in a good mental place, he keeps questioning why he did certain things and sometimes reasons he “deserved what happened to him”, other times he gets angry at himself, then promptly breaks down crying because he remembers he lost everything and he can only blame himself.

Alec was initially afraid of the robots, he reasoned they could kill him so he never risked getting near them until he was discovered by accident (he fell asleep by accident, he thought he couldn't sleep anymore).

Alec already had trouble sleeping (insomnia+nightmares) which carried over when he was body swapped, Lefty is helping him manage with that so he can sleep the whole night without having a nightmare.

Alec doesn’t like talking about the “bin” or the other Lonely Freddy's, it makes him scared and depressed (low key would present some behaviours of person suffering from PTSD), it gives him creepy nightmares from time to time (imagine the Toy Story 2 nightmare scene, they are kind of similar).

Alec doesn’t like the dark or cramped spaces because they remind him of the bin, he also doesn’t like being a place where he can’t escape.

There are moments where his old personality seeps though and when he gets angry at Lefty or Helpy, he immediately feels bad despite them not really caring if he gets angry at them.

Alec has dysgraphia (he has messy handwriting and takes an extremely long time to write clearly, he was never diagnosed), Alec just thinks he has really bad handwriting until Lefty observes him writing one day and asks him “Do you have dysgraphia?” and Alec immediately asks what the hell that is with Lefty explaining he has clear symptoms of it.

Alec has a sort of hard time asking for emotional support, especially from the animatronics of all people, but it comes to the point where Alec regularly tells Lefty what's on his mind, because he's never really had emotional support, so he wasn’t open to the idea of talking until Lefty assured him he did want to help him and he would listen, and that's all Alec wants, somebody to listen to him.

Alec slowly finds he's becoming a better person around Lefty and Helpy, with Lefty assuring him that everything he did is able to be fixed as long as he wants to fix it (which he does want to). Lefty essentially wants Alec to not loose his hope.

Lefty

He is programmed to embody a caring meteor role for kids, unlike the other animatronics, Lefty can provide insightful advice (with a strange twist sometimes).

Lefty's personality is honest (can be brutal at times), loyal, kind, caring, attentive but he can also get angry if provoked enough.

Lefty believes in second chances for people who deserve it (that's why he wants to help Alec).

Lefty can perform magic, his specialities include “Good Luck” spells, Soul reformation (restoring a soul temporarily to their correct/previous form), feeling the presences of a Soul/Evil entity and generating a shield to protect himself or another person he cares for.

Lefty is the most intelligent out of everyone (he's also slightly more advanced), when he was created, he was created with the intention for him to constantly learn from experience and that ultimately shaped his personality whereas the other robots were already given personalities.

Lefty can pick up on things, examples: he can sense Alec's soul as a human, he can read certain behaviours that are linked to mental illnesses, he can sense if a child is afraid of their parents (which to him, means abuse or neglect is happening, which Lefty doesn’t stand for).

Lefty has a knowledge of fixing robots but doesn’t call on it unless necessary. Yes Lefty can feel a sensation like pain or discomfort when his exoskeleton is effected by something (i.e. broken part, disconnected joint).

Lefty also builds little things that he uses frequently, he built a pocket watch that contains his own version of an illusion disk which can give him a human form if he has it on his person, he also used magic and mechanics to build a pair of visor goggles that block hypnosis (he made a pair for himself, Helpy and Alec).

Lefty is super alert, if he's in a party room and hears a kid screaming from the front of the pizzeria, he will get there quicker than you can say “Fazbear”.

Lefty's go to drink is usually coffee but he has like twenty different teas on a shelf in the communal area (his favourite teas being chamomile, rooibos, lavender, black tea and peppermint, he also doesn’t mind occasionally having a chai latte).

Lefty has a routine of patrolling the back rooms during the day.

His usual schedule is as followed:

—Wake at about 12:00 pm afternoon.

—Ready to start working by 1:00 pm after a coffee.

—First patrol of the day before he starts entertaining.

—Lunchtime before showtime at 3:00 pm.

—Second patrol at about 4:00 pm.

—Third patrol at 7:00 pm.

—Final patrol at 9:30 pm (just before closing time)

—10:00 pm, time to eat something.

—Either going to his room or standing near Prize Corner (He is physically there but he isn’t mentally present, he is deep in thought but can be brought back easily into reality).

—12:00 am (Midnight) usually does a few rehearsals.

—1:30 am Bedtime.

Or if he needs to be awake at opening time:

—9:00 am wake up.

—Ready for opening time at 11:00 am.

—First patrol at 1:30 pm after he has lunch.

—Second patrol at 3:30 pm after showtime.

—Third patrol at 7:00 pm.

—Last patrol at closing time.

—Eat something at 10:00 pm.

—Bedtime at 11:00 pm.

Lefty is both the oldest and biggest robot, he was technically completed last but was started first and they calculate his age based on the mental age he displays, which is 30s to 40s.

Lefty is a skilled fighter, he is programmed to automatically disarm a person if they have a weapon with the intent to hurt, Lefty has done this a total of 10 times over the years.

In regards to the last point, Lefty does cause injures often if he disarms someone, he doesn’t think about it and his programming just automatically says: “DISARM AND ARREST”. He often breaks the person's fingers, wrist or elbow if they don’t surrender easily. Anything to protect the children.

Needless to say: Lefty is protective of children and with Alec, he's extremely protective and doesn’t want to put him in danger, he knows that it's dangerous for him because he's small enough to go missing easily and with his soul in the wrong body, it's more likely some monster will take the chance to kill him and steal his soul. Lefty prefers if Alec is either: in his vision or with Helpy, Freddy, Security, Chica or Foxy because he can confirm they won’t take their eyes away from him for a moment.

Lefty is an empath and mirrors intense emotions as if he is the one experiencing them.

Relating to emotion, if Lefty sees Alec crying, he immediately goes to comfort him, it isn’t a particular response just for Alec as Lefty tries to comfort any crying kid but Lefty has been informed by Alec he really didn’t get a lot of attention (that's what sparks his hatred of Alec's parents), which is why whenever Alec obviously needs somebody to listen, Lefty will drop whatever he is doing and listens because he wants Alec to realise he does matter.

Lefty doesn’t sing a lot but his singing voice is quite soothing.

Lefty usually plays classical and jazz instruments like the piano, trumpet, drums, saxophone, cello, trombone among other random instruments he can play well.

Lefty has a flame thrower and he's not afraid to use it.

Lefty is the one who can see in the dark the best.

Relevant to Lonely Freddy: Lefty was hypnotised by one prior to the events of the story but he managed to snap himself out of it by stabbing himself in the eye, permanently blinding himself in one eye, he also saw one had hypnotised a girl but he interferes in the encounter and saves her from being body swapped, at that point, he is unaware they can body swap and only learns once he meets Alec and connects the dots.

He can talk to Marionette, who has a psychic connection with him.

Lefty is the robot who acts the most like his creator Henry Emily with him tinkering to keep himself from going bored, reading a lot and usually being independent (there are a lot of things Lefty does that directly compare to Henry).

Helpy

Obvious: Helpy's colour palette is loosely based on Funtime Freddy, but he isn’t as boisterous.

Helpy basically has the height of a young child, he is slightly taller than a Lonely Freddy.

Helpy usually likes to look on the bright side of things.

Helpy isn’t out and about in the pizzeria frequently during the day because he was kicked across the dining room by a teenager and he crashed directly into Freddy who was performing on stage, both of them were injured and disoriented, Helpy only vaguely remembers how badly Lefty lost his temper at the teenager (Lefty was threatening and screaming).

Helpy is friendly overall, he's also smarter than he looks.

Helpy aids Mike at night if he requires.

Helpy sometimes keeps the robots on alert by practicing certain situations where a child is in danger (he pretends he's a child) and the animatronics must response correctly (i.e. if a kidnapping is occurring, they must intercept the child and apprehend the suspect, then wait for police).

Revelant for Alec: Alec sees similarities between Helpy and Hazel, Helpy is unaware some of his behaviours remind Alec of his sister.

When Helpy gets scared, his usual reaction is to find Lefty and stay near him.

Helpy loves sweet items but if he consumes too much sugar, he gets extremely moody and tired (imagine Lefty trying to get him to sleep but Helpy is acting really cranky that Lefty is trying to force him to sleep, Lefty either uses magic to make him sleep or just leaves him be).

Helpy can also get angry when he's tired.

Essentially Lefty and Helpy's friendship dynamic balances between “brothers” and a “father/son” relationship, Helpy describes Lefty as his best friend.

Like Alec, Helpy can get into small spaces.

Helpy does a little happy dance when he's really excited, like the one in pizzeria simulator here:

Hazel Roberts

Alec's younger sister, ten years old (Hazel's birthday is in April somewhere whereas Alec's birthday is confirmed as being on August 18th).

She's in two minds about “Alec” (Lonely Freddy-Imposter), while she's glad he gets along with her, the way that it happens... feels extremely unnatural to her, she’s sort of suspicious but not enough to just have an occasional thought of why does he do certain things now, if she had more concrete evidence.... she'd know he is an imposter and the real Alec's been missing for a while.

Over the years, she'd tried to observe Alec's interests and hopes she can use the information to get him to like her (The Yarg Foxy toy is relevant to this).

She has gone into Alec's room while he's not around, but she doesn’t disturb anything, worried her brother would immediately know she's been in there.

Hazel's a gerenous girl, and her wish is to have her brother as a friend and have her parents love him.

Hazel sometimes wears her hair in pigtails.

Hazel has had nightmares that make zero sense to her, but to someone like Lefty and Alec, the nightmares are clear warnings that an imposter has infiltrated her life.

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societybabylon · 4 years ago

Text

Across from her, Harry’s eyes glittered dangerously. He looked tired but wild, like there was something lurking under his skin that only revealed itself in the dark.

It was at that moment that she realized how little she knew him.

“I remember waking up on that day, the day of your birthday,” Harry said, still cast in darkness. “I remember seeing the tattoo for the first time. I was terrified and angry, but I wondered…what if? What if we didn’t deny the bond?”

Lifelong enemies Allie and Harry are devastated when they learn they are soulmates, so they form a pact to never act on their bond. Unfortunately, fate has other plans for them.

[read on ao3 here]

“Do you want to know your fate?”

Allie watched the old man place a crystal ball on the table in front of him. The bauble was unassuming and slightly dirty. Honestly, Allie wouldn’t have been surprised if it were made of plastic. It, like everything else in the cluttered store, looked cheap and fake. But then again, what did she know about the world of psychics? That’s why she was here, after all: she wanted answers about her future.

It was the day before Allie’s thirteenth birthday, and she was at a fortuneteller’s shop. Her friend Becca had insisted they come here to celebrate her impending soulmate reveal. Perhaps, Becca said, they could get a little insight into who she would be paired with.

Allie’s world revolved around soulmates. When two people were ideally matched, an unbreakable soul bond tied the pair together. And two rules applied to all soulmates:

First, the bond was manifested in a tattoo. Everybody had their partner’s name written on their body somewhere. These tattoos didn’t require needles or ink; they showed up on their own, as if by magic.

Second, the tattooed names didn’t appear until the thirteenth birthday of the younger person in each couple. On that day, both soulmates would wake up to find themselves marked with their other half’s name.

Assuming Allie’s soulmate was older than she was, there was only one day left until she learned who she was bonded to.

Allie gazed at the crystal ball. Behind the fortuneteller, a pink neon sign buzzed an electric tune. The lights cast a dim glow throughout the small store.

The psychic seemed over-the-top to her, not that she would ever tell Becca that. The man sitting across from her seemed more like a crackpot than a sage. His greasy hair hung in his face, so long that it nearly obscured his eyes. He reeked of licorice and burnt lavender. But they had already paid the man his fee, so they might as well hear what predictions he could conjure up for them.

“Do you want to know your fate?” he repeated. “Once you learn it, you can’t go back.”

“Yes,” Allie said. “I’m ready.”

The fortuneteller muttered a few unintelligible words and stared deeply into the crystal ball. “Hmm...it’s foggy, but some images are starting to come into focus. Ah, yes. I can see it now.”

To Allie, the crystal ball looked exactly as it did before.

“I see money stained with blood. Tears and white bedsheets. Two bodies, submerged in water. A cellphone is ringing, but no one is picking up.”

“Okay,” Allie tried to figure out how to respond to this prophecy. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but she certainly hadn’t thought he would list such unpleasant images. “But what does that mean?”

“These images foretell rejection and denial. You will learn who your soulmate is tomorrow, but you will be unhappy when you learn who you have been paired with. This bond will confuse you and bring you unhappiness. Yes, I definitely sense rejection and denial.”

Allie was stunned. “Do you see anything else? Like, happiness and love, maybe?”

“I cannot see specifics,” he responded with contempt. “That is not how my gift works.”

Of course the fraud fortuneteller wouldn’t be able to see specifics. She had shelled out good money for him to ruin her day. She protested, “But—”

The man cut her off with a dismissive wave. “Do not disrespect my craft. Just because you demand answers of me doesn’t mean that I’ll give them to you. I only see what the universe shows me.”

Allie glanced back at the crystal ball, which was still maddeningly clear. There were no bloodied dollar bills, no ringing cellphones. The fortuneteller could have invented any story he wanted. He could have reported that he had seen her in a happy relationship and with a successful career. And yet he deliberately chose to give her a bad fortune.

“You must see something good in the crystal ball, right?” Becca murmured. She had been quietly listening in on the conversation between Allie and the psychic for the last fifteen minutes, mostly content to observe. “I mean, it can’t all be bad.”

“Actually, it can,” the man snapped. “I do not control your future. I merely pass on the messages that the universe sends me.”

“So you’re saying that rejection is my fate, and there’s nothing I can do to change that?” Allie said.

The man nodded eagerly, as if glad that she was finally catching on. “Precisely.”

“And why should I believe that?” Allie usually wasn’t so confrontational, especially with adults, but this fortuneteller was an exception. What did he know about her soulmate? Nothing.

The man scrutinized her frowning face. His lips went thin with irritation. “I think we are done here. I’ve told you what I saw. It’s not my problem if you don’t like the truth.”

Allie nearly scoffed. He read tea leaves and tarot cards for a living. He probably got pleasure out of ruining his customers’ days. Staring into a crystal ball and mumbling about dark visions wasn’t the truth, it was a cruel joke.

At least, she hoped it was a joke. There was a part of her (a part she tried to ignore) that worried that his predictions might come to pass. She pictured the images the man had mentioned—blood, tears, bodies in water—and she saw death. She shivered at the thought.

“Thanks for the crystal ball reading,” Becca cut in before Allie could offend the fortuneteller even more. “Well, we should probably go. My mom’s waiting for us outside.”

The fortuneteller wasn’t even listening. His attention had strayed to a stained, crumpled box of cigarettes that sat by his side. He picked one cigarette from the pack and sparked it with a pink lighter from his pocket.

Allie felt anger on her tongue, ready to be sharpened into spiteful words, but she could see that Becca was anxious to leave. She smothered her fury for her friend’s sake. “Yeah, thanks for the fortune.”

She stood up and walked out of the store with Becca. As the wooden door swung shut behind her, she turned around to give the fortuneteller one last glance. Thick smoke swirled around his head. His eyes were closed as if he had already forgotten that they were there.

What did a man like that know about her fate?

The next day, Allie woke up at five in the morning. She was too giddy to go back to sleep. Despite how horribly the visit to the fortuneteller had gone, she was still excited by the potential of finding out who she was bonded to. She’d been waiting her entire life to see her soulmate’s name tattooed on her.

She checked her wrists, a common spot for soulmate marks. They were blank. Her arms and legs, too, were bare. In fact, every visible inch of skin was unmarked.

Don’t worry, she reminded herself. It’s probably just hidden under some clothing.

She lifted the edge of her pajama shirt and walked to her mirror to get a closer look at herself. As she scanned over the planes of her stomach and saw more blank skin, she felt growing disappointment. It seemed that she hadn’t gotten her tattoo after all. Her soulmate was probably younger than she was, which meant she would have to wait until his thirteenth birthday to find out who he was.

But then she spotted a scribble of black near her waist. The writing was scrawled across her left hipbone in messy, boyish letters. She bent down to get a closer look at the words.

Harry Bingham.

She gasped.

Harry Bingham? No, it wasn’t possible. Harry had been her sister’s sworn enemy since preschool, which meant that by default, she and Harry were also enemies. Almost every time they had a conversation (a misfortune she did her best to avoid), he was arrogant and entitled and cruel.

“No, no, no,” Allie said to herself. “This can’t be real.”

She paced her room, trying to rationalize why she was paired with Harry. She and Harry were nothing alike. It should have been impossible for them to be soulmates.

Maybe this was some sort of cosmic joke, or the universe’s revenge for the times she’d been a bad person. Or maybe, while she had been sleeping, her sister decided to write Harry’s name on her as a prank. All those explanations were more logical than the thought that she might actually soulmates with Harry Bingham.

“This can’t be real,” she repeated.

But the ink was underneath her skin. As much as she wished that she could blink and watch the tattoo vanish before her eyes, she knew the mark was permanent. It would stay on her body forever, reminding her of the boy she’d been chained to.

When she took her shower later that morning, Allie tried, in a half-crazed stupor, to wash the name from her body. She scrubbed with her loofa until her skin was raw and red. But Harry’s name was still printed on her hipbone.

After the shower, Allie dressed hastily, as if covering the mark would mean that it no longer existed. She even considered stealing a bottle of concealer from her sister’s room and smearing the makeup over her hip, but she feared that Cassandra would catch her in the act. Her mind was racing for solutions, and yet she was paralyzed by inaction.

She curled up on her covers, her hair still damp. She was too stunned to cry. Instead, she just stared at the walls, trying to decode the mess she had landed in.

By ten, Allie knew she could not hide in her room any longer. She crept downstairs to the kitchen, where her dad was flipping pancakes and humming along to a pop song. Cassandra and her mom were setting the table for breakfast. They had even put out a vase filled with her favorite peonies.

“Morning, birthday girl,” her mom said.

“Morning,” Allie replied, faking a grin. Her lower lip trembled from her anxiety.

“I’m surprised you woke up late,” her dad said. “I remember waking up at the crack of dawn on my thirteenth birthday. I was so anxious I almost got sick. And then it turned out that there wasn’t even a tattoo on me!”

“Sorry, dad, but even my birthday isn’t enough to get me to wake up early.” Lie.

“You ready for breakfast?”

“Of course.” Another lie. Truthfully, she was terrified. She knew her family would use breakfast as an opportunity to spring the dreaded question: do you know who your soulmate is?

Her dad plated the golden pancakes and coated them with pats of butter and gooey, sugary syrup. He brought the food to the table, and they all sat down to eat.

Allie shoved pieces of pancake into her mouth as if she were Joey Chestnut on steroids. She hoped that if her cheeks were stuffed with food, her family would let her eat her breakfast in peace instead of poking her for information.

Across from Allie, Cassandra was only on her second bite of breakfast. She had cut her pancakes into delicate, precise slices and had taken care to ensure the syrup was evenly distributed. Even when taking sips from her orange juice, she was polished.

Perfect Cassandra, Allie thought. She would never be bound to someone as awful as Harry.

“I remember my thirteenth birthday,” Allie’s mom said in between bites of pancake, seemingly clueless to the turmoil tearing her daughter apart. “I woke up and saw your dad’s name on the inside of my arm. But I had no clue who he was! Your generation is lucky to have the internet. You can Google your soulmate’s name and immediately find out who they are. We were in the dark about our soulmates until we met them in person.”

“Unless you knew your soulmate before you turned thirteen,” Cassandra pointed out. “Like, if you were paired up with someone that went to elementary school with you. Then you wouldn’t need the internet to help find them.”

Allie almost choked on her juice. That comment was uncomfortably close to her reality.

“I suppose that’s true,” her mom said. “That’s very rare, though. Your dad and I met when we were twenty-two, and we met earlier than most.”

“Well, I think it’s better not to use the internet to find your soulmate,” Cassandra declared. She said this frequently, especially when she was asked why she didn’t have social media. “I think you should meet your soulmate naturally, as you were supposed to.”

“So, Allie,” her mom turned to look at her. “Do you have any news for us yet?”

Allie went red. This conversation felt intensely wrong. Worse than the “sex talk” her parents had given her when she was eight. Although she had never considered it before, she wondered why her family felt like they were entitled to this information about her body and her future. Their society had bought into the idea that everyone should wear their soulmate tattoos like a badge of honor—but shouldn’t people be allowed to keep this information private?

Allie was ashamed of her mark. She didn’t want to admit that she had been paired with West Ham’s most obnoxious idiot.

“I don’t have a tattoo yet,” Allie lied, desperately hoping that her family would buy her act. “Guess he must be younger than me.”

“Oh,” her mom said, clearly a little surprised. Her mom and her dad shared a look. “Well, that’s okay, honey. I’m sure you’ll find out who he is soon enough. Your thirteenth birthday doesn’t have to be all about finding your soulmate. You’re so young! You can worry about that later. Today’s still going to be a great day. ”

Allie almost laughed. Her parents thought she would be upset because she hadn’t gotten her tattoo. If they knew the truth...

“Yeah,” Allie said, grateful that her family didn’t prod further. And then she told her greatest lie of the morning. “I don’t really care about soulmates, anyway.”

After breakfast, while her parents washed the dishes, Allie went back to hiding in her bedroom. She buried her head in the covers of her bed and let her emotions swallow her.

Harry Bingham, she thought again. How on Earth could I have been paired with Harry Bingham? We’re nothing alike.

She startled at the sound of her door swinging open. It was her sister. Cassandra wore a small, close-lipped smile that set Allie’s nerves on fire. Allie realized immediately that despite escaping the breakfast interrogation, she hadn’t escaped her sister.

Cassandra sat down on the bed.

“You know you can knock, right?” Allie asked sharply.

“Sorry,” Cassandra said, entirely unapologetic. “So, who is it?”

It was unlike Cassandra to be so upfront. Usually, she was the more reserved one, always telling Allie to calm down or be more patient.

“It’s nobody. I told you, I didn’t find a tattoo on my body.”

“I know you’re lying,” Cassandra said. “I can hear it in your voice. You can fool mom and dad, but you can’t fool me.”

Anxiety shot through Allie. She thought that her performance at breakfast was Oscar-worthy, but as always, Cassandra saw through her lies. “I don’t want to tell you, okay? It’s none of your business.”

“I told you the second I found out who mine was.” Cassandra emphasized her point by sticking her wrist, which was encircled with blank ink, in Allie’s face.

Allie could feel her panic growing. Her sister had a point, but Allie couldn’t possibly tell her the truth. How could she?

Allie imagined speaking Harry’s name aloud. She pictured her sister’s reaction, her mouth gaping wide and her eyebrows raised in shock. Cassandra would stutter out a kind response. She would try to make her congratulations sound convincing. Yet no matter what was said, they would both know the truth: Cassandra hated Harry, truly hated him. And that would never change.

No, Allie could not tell the truth.

“Just tell me.” Cassandra pushed. “I’m your sister. You can trust me.”

Allie’s eyes filled with stinging tears. “I do trust you, I promise. But I can’t tell you. Please, Cassandra, please just take my word for it. Please.”

Her sister looked bewildered. Allie knew Cassandra had never seen her beg like this before.

“Fine.” Allie could hear the hurt in her sister’s voice. “You have to tell me one day, though. A soulmate’s not the kind of secret you can hide forever.”

Maybe not, Allie thought. But I can try.

When Allie arrived at school the next day, she was determined to corner Harry and confront him about the tattoo.

As it turned out, she didn’t need to search for him. While she was walking down the hallway, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her behind the lockers into a tight nook. It was Harry. Anger blazed in his eyes. He held up a cautious finger to his lips, shushing her. “Don’t say a word.”

Allie nodded. He stared at her suspiciously, as if he was worried that she would start screaming.

“I think you probably know why I wanted to talk. I’m guessing it was your thirteenth birthday yesterday, Pressman. I don’t know what else could explain the tattoo I woke up with. And to think that I thought I would have a soulmate I liked.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. “You probably prayed every night that you would end up with someone like me, huh?”

He was infuriating. She couldn’t believe that he had the audacity to think that she would ever be interested in him.

“You think you’re so special, don’t you?” Allie said. “Harry, you’re pretty much the last person I’d want to be bonded to.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual. You think I want to be part of your shitty family?”

That was one step too far. She was half considering throwing a punch at him. She could do it if she wanted; in this nook, they were hidden from the eyes of their teachers and classmates.

“You’re an asshole,” she spat.

“Bitch.”

Allie wished she could vaporize him on the spot. How could she have been chained to such a callous jerk?

She thought of clever retorts she could say to him, insults that would permanently puncture his inflated pride. Though Cassandra was usually in the spotlight for her intelligence, no one could beat Allie’s wit. She could trade barbs with the best.

Allie considered those rumors that she had overheard about his parents’ loveless marriage. Yes, that would be a fertile site for insults.

She opened her mouth, prepared to escalate the argument. But she stopped herself before she could say anything.

What good would fighting with Harry do? At the end of the day, she would still have his name written on her hip.

Looking at him, she found that he, too, appeared to be at a loss for words. Though he still wore an angry sneer, his eyes were sad. It seemed that they both came to the same realization: they could hurl nasty words at each other for hours, but it wouldn’t fix their situation. If they wanted to overcome their bond, they’d have to work together.

“We’re stuck with each other until we die, aren’t we?” Harry let out a deep sigh. His furious mask cracked, and Allie glimpsed genuine misery and anxiety on his face.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then, a brilliant thought struck Allie. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. “We don’t have to be stuck with each other. There are plenty of soulmates who reject the bond.”

“I guess.” Harry scrutinized her. She could tell he was considering her suggestion. “But how would we make sure that we’ve rejected it permanently? I wouldn’t want you falling in love with me five years from now, Pressman.”

Allie rolled her eyes. “Harry, it’s us. There’s literally no way we’re ever going to be friends, much less…well, you know.”

He nodded. “Okay. So what are you thinking?”

In her mind, a plan started to fall into place. A simple, perfect plan. “We both have to promise that we’ll never speak of this…this bond to anyone else. Ever. We have to keep it a secret until the day we die.”

“Like a pact?” Harry asked.

“Yes, a pact. Except a pact isn’t enough. We have to do more than that. Before we turn twenty, we both have to agree to get our marks covered up.”

Harry seemed much less certain about this suggestion. Covering up soulmate tattoos was technically illegal. Most tattoo artists outright refused to do it, and those who were caught in the act could face up to a year in jail time. Eventually, however, he conceded, “Okay, fine. I can agree to that. But you need to swear on your life that you’re going to get yours covered up, too. This is a two-way street, Pressman. If I’m going to jail, so are you.”

“I swear on my life I’ll...,” Allie paused, considering her words. “You know, I feel like we should have some official pledge or something. For example, I, Allie Pressman, swear on my life that I will never mention that my soulmate is Harry Bingham. I will do everything in my power to keep my tattoo hidden.”

Harry snorted. “Who do you think you are? The queen? Let’s just shake on it and call it a day.”

Allie glared at him. “Just say the damn words, will you?”

“Fine. I, Harry Bingham, swear on my life that I will never mention my soulmate is Allie Pressman. I will do everything I can to keep my tattoo hidden. Yada yada yada, you get the gist. Can I go now?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one who pulled me behind these lockers in the first place.”

“Touché.”

Just like that, it was settled. Their soulmate marks were a secret that they alone would keep. And they would never, ever act on their bond.

For two years after that, neither Harry nor Allie spoke about the curse they shared. They didn’t interact in the hallway or the classroom. They both pretended that the other didn’t exist, and they were both happy with this arrangement.

While her classmates celebrated their budding relationships or dreamed of the day they met their other half, Allie fantasized about getting a new, large tattoo to cover up the one on her hip. She was fifteen now; there were only a few more years until she could write Harry off as a memory.

Sometimes, she heard murmurs about him in the hallway. Sometimes, it seemed all of West Ham High School wanted to know his soulmate’s identity. Between his looks and his wealth, Harry was considered an ideal match. But no one was ever able to discover whose name was on his body.

Harry was hardly a factor in her life, much less her soulmate. He was a problem that she had solved, and she was content to let him stay that way.

Mid-October during her sophomore year of high school, Allie planned a trip to Manhattan. Her aunt, who lived in Virginia, was having a weekend getaway to the city, and she had invited both Allie and Cassandra to join for the last day of her vacation.

A week before the trip, Allie reminded Cassandra (who was swamped with homework as always) about their aunt’s visit. “Do you want to come?”

“What day are you going?” her sister replied.

“This Sunday.”

Cassandra frowned. “I can’t. I have to study for a math test that day. My grade is on the edge right now, and if I do poorly on the exam, I’ll get a B+ in the class. I can’t risk it. Trust me, I would go if I could.”

Allie understood. She knew her sister wanted to go to Yale, and she had seen the statistics. The admissions rate was around six percent. Even for the best of students, Yale was a reach. Allie was a bit sad—the city was always more fun with Cassandra by her side—but she wasn’t a child anymore, and she didn’t need her sister to accompany her everywhere.

“It’s no problem,” Allie reassured. “Just let me know if there’s anything that you want me to buy for you while I’m down there.”

Allie went to the city alone, bringing only her black purse and her cell phone with her. She arrived at Penn Station in the early morning. Aunt Carly, decked out in her characteristic prints and bold colors, was waiting for her.

“Allie!” her aunt hollered. Her obnoxiously bright orange-red lip gloss matched the color of her handbag perfectly. “It’s been so long since I last saw you. You look taller—have you grown?”

Allie gave her aunt a tight hug and laughed. “Since August? No, I don’t think so. Same height as always.”

“Any boys?” Her aunt asked with a wink.

Allie’s chest tightened. She hated that question, truly hated it. “Nope, no one yet. But I’m happy being single.”

Luckily, Aunt Carly dropped the subject, and moved on to talking about a list of all the clothes and books and trinkets the two of them would be splurging on throughout the day. There was no budget, it seemed; Aunt Carly acted as though her pockets were bottomless.

They spent the first part of the day shopping on Fifth Avenue and hopping into trendy boutiques. Aunt Carly bought dozens of clothes with dizzyingly high prices. By the time they went to eat lunch, her aunt had seven large shopping bags in her arms. Allie was more frugal; she had bought one bag’s worth of clothes.

After lunch, they spent their time exploring Manhattan. They meandered through the streets, grabbing snacks in between people watching. Allie loved the vibrancy and anonymity of urban life. Here, she shed the labels that followed her in West Ham.

After ending the day with burgers and fries at the Shake Shack in Grand Central Station, her aunt prepared to board her train back to Virginia. Her tiny frame was dwarfed by the assortment of large bags and suitcases she carried with her.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay walking back to Penn Station?” Aunt Carly asked. “I wish we had arranged a train for you from here. The walk is so far.”

“I’ll be fine,” Allie promised. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Actually, you know what?” Aunt Carly pulled her green wallet out of her purse and grabbed a couple of twenty-dollar bills from its folds. “I just don’t feel comfortable with you walking all that way. Take this money and take a cab. Please, do it for my peace of mind. I would feel much safer if you did.”

“Okay, I will,” Allie said, knowing full well that she was lying. “Have a safe trip home!”

Allie watched as her aunt took her bags and boarded the train. As soon as Carly was out of sight, she pocketed the money for herself. That money could be useful for another day. And, she thought, there was something kind of peaceful about a solitary night walk.

She left Grand Central and pulled up the directions to Penn Station on her phone. It was dark outside, but the way was straightforward enough, so she put away the phone and let herself fully absorb the city. She was mesmerized by the myriad of people who surrounded her. It was truly electric.

Allie peered into clubs where the night was only beginning, and where men and women knocked back liquor like it was water. She walked by a row of cramped food trucks, where the heavy scent of spices soaked in through her lungs and warmed her to the core. Compared to West Ham, New York City might as well have been another planet—a wondrous, delightful alien world.

She must have taken a wrong turn, because she realized she had walked halfway down an alleyway she didn’t recognize. The near-omnipresent city crowd had disappeared. The only sounds were the quiet hum of cars on busy streets and the plinking sound of water dripping from a drainpipe onto the street.

Allie suddenly felt very, very small.

She couldn’t have gone too far from a main street. So she told herself that she shouldn’t be worrying, really. All she had to do was walk through to the other end of the alley. Once she was back on a major road, she could pull out her phone again and check for directions.

Allie walked down the narrow street, thinking, for the first time, that maybe she should have taken that cab after all. In polluted Manhattan, there were no stars to light her way. The drainpipe’s dripping water drummed an eerie rhythm—plink, plink, plink.

Behind her, slow footsteps made squishing sounds on the wet pavement. She glanced over her shoulder quickly. It was a man, tall and blonde, strolling nonchalantly toward her. He seemed to have emerged fully formed from shadow. His eyes traced over her with feigned disinterest, only to light up when he set his sights on her purse and shopping bag.

She picked up her pace. The footsteps behind her sped up to match her strides.

That couldn’t be a coincidence. A host of horrible nightmares burst into her head. Assault, murder, robbery...

She needed to walk faster.

Allie started scurrying down the street.

So did he.

When Allie glanced over her shoulder again, she could see the man closing in on her. Terrified, she broke into a sprint. But just as before, he mirrored her actions, and from the sound of it, he was a faster runner than she.

A cold hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her back mid-run. Allie tripped and went tumbling to the ground. The palm of her left hand scraped across gritty gravel, tearing her skin open. Blood oozed out from the cut and dribbled onto the street.

Allie stared up at the man with wide, stunned eyes. He whipped out a black glock from the pocket of his oversized jacket. His hands shook as if he had never pointed a killing weapon at another person before. Up close, he looked young, perhaps only one or two years older than her.

Adrenaline jolted through her body, waking her up from her dreamy wandering. The pain of her injury receded as she focused on the weapon in front of her. This could be life or death, she realized. She had taken one wrong turn and ended up against the barrel of a gun.

“Give me your bags,” the man demanded.

“What?”

“Did I fucking stutter?” And indeed, though his hands shook, his voice was calm.

The man jerked his gun in the direction of her purse and shopping bag as if his threat hadn’t been clear enough.

“Okay, okay,” Allie said in rushed breaths.

She took off her bags with her wounded hand and held them out to him. She stifled a cry as her purse’s handle bit into her skin. Her blood smeared over the metal, streaking it with red.

In a swift move, he snatched her belongings from her fingers. It amazed her how deftly he could move while still managing to point his gun at her.

He quickly pulled her wallet out of her purse and rifled through paper bills quickly, including the money that her aunt had given her for a taxi. In the dim light of the alley, she could see her blood glistening on his fingertips, marking up every paper bill he touched.

He shut the wallet with a snap. His eyes darted nervously to each side of the alleyway, presumably checking to ensure no one had seen him rob her.

“Now, close your eyes and count to thirty,” he ordered. For added intimidation, he waved his gun at her again. “And count slowly.”

Allie nearly whimpered with fear, but did as he said. She let her vision go dark. Without her sight, she couldn’t help but imagine his finger on the trigger, ready to kill her. She wasn’t putting up a fight. It would be an easy crime.

“One. Two. Three…” she counted.

But the shot never came. She heard the muffled thunk of fabric meeting heavy plastic, and then the squish of his feet as he sprinted down the alleyway. In seconds, she could no longer hear him at all. The city had swallowed him up. She was alone again.

Allie opened her eyes and slowly rose from the ground. She winced as she plucked jagged pieces of gravel from her hands. She could still feel cold fear curling in her chest, although that emotion was quickly being replaced by the panicked realization that she had just lost her money and her ticket back home.

She was lucky about one thing: he hadn’t asked her to empty her pockets. Her phone was still tucked snuggly in the back pocket of her jeans.

Allie dialed Cassandra’s number. It was past midnight, so there was a high likelihood that her sister would already be asleep, especially since she had a test the next day. Her parents, notorious for going to bed early, would certainly already have dozed off.

The line rang and rang, but Cassandra didn’t pick up. Then: Hi, you’ve reached Cassandra Pressman. Leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.

Since her sister’s phone had gone straight to voicemail, she would have to rely on someone else. She went through her contact list one by one, praying that at least one of her friends would pick up. Will, Becca, Gordie, Bean: none of them answered her calls.

The blood on her left hand had started to clot. Her cell was rapidly running out of battery. She needed someone to pick up.

She scrolled through her contacts again, calling people she barely knew. She even called Elle Tomkins, who she had spoken maybe a total of three words to. Over and over, she was met with disappointment when no one picked up.

Allie was quickly running out of options when she came across a person she had tried to push to the corners of her mind. Her finger hovered over his name in her contact list.

Harry Bingham.

It seemed wrong to call him. Wrong, when he was constantly at Cassandra’s throat. Wrong, when they had done everything possible to ignore each other since she turned thirteen.

You know what? Allie thought to herself. Fuck it.

Before she could stop herself, she called him.

He picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“Hey. It’s Allie.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s the twenty-first century. I have caller I.D. What do you want?”

Ugh. Though his rudeness was no surprise, it still irked her. But at this point, it seemed like he was her only hope, so she tried to suppress her irritation. “Can I ask you a favor? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I have no one else to turn to and I’m scared and I don’t know what else to do.”

“Shit, Allie. Just spit it out.”

“I’m stuck in New York City. A man mugged me and took all my money and my ticket back home. I wouldn’t have called you, except I’ve already tried my family and all my friends. Can you come get me?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. In her head, she pictured him lying in bed, half-asleep and sneering at her. She imagined that he was hovering his finger over the red button on his phone, ready to end the call at any moment. Knowing Harry, he would probably hang up on her and go right back to sleep, and in the morning he’d forget that she’d ever called him.

“Hello?” she said, breaking the silence. “Harry? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here.” He sighed. “You’re going to owe me for this, Pressman.”

Relief rushed over her. “So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, I will. Might be a couple of hours before I can get to you, though. I’m going to have to take an Amtrak or something, because my dad will get pissed if I start racking up miles on my car.” The trains from West Ham to Penn Station took an hour and a half minimum, and since fewer trains ran at night, the next train to the city probably wouldn’t be for a while. “Do you have somewhere safe to stay until then?”

“Um, I was just planning on waiting around at the train station.”

“Jesus Christ.” He cursed under his breath. “You so owe me for this. Alright, walk to the Waterwhite Hotel. It’s only two blocks from the station. Tell the person at the front desk that you’re a friend of the Bingham family. They’ll let you wait in the lobby until I show up.”

A cool rush of relief flooded her. “Harry? Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it. Like, seriously. Don’t mention this to anyone.”

Harry arrived at the Waterwhite a little over two hours later. His shirt was rumpled and he looked like he desperately needed two shots of espresso. Allie had never seen him look so disheveled. He must have come immediately after she called him.

Allie was waiting for him on a modern, dark blue couch in the hotel lobby. She watched as he walked over to the tall brunette working the reception desk. He smiled and said something to the woman. Her previously bored expression turned happy, and she pointed to where Allie was sitting. Allie could see him thanking her with one of his classic Bingham smiles before walking over to where she was waiting. Even bedraggled, he still somehow managed to charm.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. If he noticed her state of distress—her grimy shoes, her still-bloody hand, her tired red eyes—he did not comment on it.

She nodded. “Thank you, again, Harry. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

He didn’t respond. They walked to the train station in near silence. The clacking of her shoes on the pavement was the only sound either of them made on the way there.

When they reached Penn Station, Harry paid for her Amtrak ticket back to West Ham in cash. This, too, was a near-wordless exchange. She thanked him. He merely grunted in response.

After waiting for thirty minutes, their train arrived. Unlike most trains out of the city, this one was near empty, occupied only by sleep-deprived workers commuting to their morning shift and a few odd stragglers.

Allie slid into a seat near the front of a car. Rather than sliding into the seat next to her, Harry spread himself out on the row of seats across from her. He rested his back against the window, stretched his legs across the seats, and let his feet dangle into the aisle.

Allie pulled out her phone to check the time. 3:23 a.m. was etched in glowing lights.

The train rolled to a start. Harry closed his eyes and slouched in his seat as if he hoped to resume the sleep he had been enjoying before she had called. When he stretched his arms behind his head, his shirt rose to expose a sliver of skin by his hip.

She could see the start of her name, inked on him in her penmanship. Allie Pressman. She had never seen it before. It pained her to look at it, although there was an almost beautiful quality to the tattoo. Unlike tattoos done by hand, a soulmate mark would never fade or need touch-ups.

He dropped his arms. The tattoo vanished under a cascade of black fabric.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” He was looking at her with half-shut eyes. So, he’d caught her staring after all.

Maybe it was sheer curiosity, or maybe her tiredness had made her weak, but she wanted to see those words on his skin.

Without responding, Allie lifted the edge of her top and nudged down one side of her jeans so that his name was fully revealed. The tattoo was the same as always, stark black ink against pale skin. It felt strange to have her mark exposed to the world. No one had ever seen it but her.

Harry followed her lead. He lifted the edge of his shirt, showing his tattoo to her once more. This time, she could see the entirety of her signature, like a claiming brand on a boy who despised her.

They sat in silence, examining each other’s inked skin with fascination.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Seeing your name on someone else’s body,” she said.

“Yeah, very weird.” Harry tore his eyes away from her skin. Then, with a wry smirk, he said, “Almost as weird as having to cross state lines at three in the morning to pick up your enemy’s little sister.”

“Why did you help me?” she asked, genuinely curious.

He looked surprised at her question. “Allie, I know what you and your sister think of me, but I’m not a bad person. I wasn’t going to leave you stranded in New York.”

Allie didn’t quite know what to say to that. Harry was right—she and Cassandra thought he was all West Ham’s worst traits distilled into one human being. Could it really be that after years of hating him, he was worth redeeming?

The train swayed hypnotically on the tracks. The cabin was quiet except for a man snoring three rows away from them. She and Harry stared at each other silently, truly seeing each other for the first time.

He seemed different in this setting, she noticed. Away from his callous friends and his detached parents, he seemed lost and sad and beautiful and kind.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” she finally said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? And what exactly do you think of me? I know you don’t like me, so don’t even try to deny it.”

Allie rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t know, Harry. I think you’re richer than I’ll ever be. I think you’re smart but overconfident. If I’m being completely honest, I don’t think about you much at all.”

Harry smiled at her. Had she ever gotten a genuine smile from him before? She didn’t think so. She was used to his cold glares and bitter frowns, so this unfamiliar expression sent a shock of warmth through her.

“Don’t think about me at all, huh?” he said. “I’m hurt. Here I was, thinking I’d been in your dreams since thirteen.”

“Haunting my nightmares, maybe,” she retorted.

“Ouch.” He turned away from her to look out the window.

Guilt flared up in Allie, although she wasn’t quite sure why. “As if you care what I think of you.”

He turned back to face her. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Why would you think I don’t care?” He sounded surprisingly genuine, completely dropping the teasing tone he’d previously used with her.

Allie suddenly felt anxious. She was trapped on a train with Harry Bingham, and he kept subverting her expectations. Without the judgment of West Ham hanging over her head, she didn’t know how to behave around him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe I think that because of a conversation from many years ago, when we both agreed to pretend that there was nothing between us.”

The train’s fluorescent lights flickered out above them. For a moment, they were plunged into the dark. The only light was the blue glow of the city outside, which bounced brilliantly off Allie’s white sneakers.

Across from her, Harry’s eyes glittered dangerously. He looked tired but wild, like there was something lurking under his skin that only revealed itself in the dark.

It was at that moment that she realized how little she knew him.

Allie could feel her whole body tense up with renewed stress. She was grateful that the lights had gone out—hopefully, he couldn’t see her blushing.

Why was he divulging this to her?

Harry laughed. The sound was sharp. When he spoke again, his voice was newly guarded. “I never wanted to be bonded with you. I still don’t. But when I look at the ink on my skin, I think of you. Always. So yes, Pressman, I do care what you think of me.”

The train’s lights startled back on. In the full light, Harry studied her for one more moment. His gaze was so intense it felt like it was burning her. She searched for the words to respond to him, but they kept getting stuck on the way to her tongue.

Before she could come up with anything, he pulled a pair of earbuds from his pocket and shoved them in his ears. He closed his eyes, too, blocking out the sight of her. And just like that, he was back to ignoring her.

They arrived at the West Ham train station at five in the morning. The sun had not yet risen, and the dark sky was speckled with tiny stars. Just a short train ride had separated her from the everlasting citylight of New York. Her shopping spree and mugging almost felt as if they were figments of her imagination, although her scraped hands and the missing weight of her purse were painful reminders that the past twenty-four hours had been real.

“Need a ride home?” Harry asked.

“If you don’t mind.” She felt guilty for asking so much of him. She hadn’t even expected him to answer her call, and he had ended up coming all the way to New York to get her.

“It’s whatever,” he said. He rubbed his tired eyes and took out the keys to his Maserati.

Harry had parked next to the station. They got into the car like phantoms, sucked of all their energy.

Five minutes later, they turned onto Allie’s street. Harry made sure to pull over three houses before hers. That way, her family wouldn’t hear the purr of his engine or see her coming from his car.

“This is just between you and me, right?” Allie asked. “Just like before?”

Harry jerked his chin in response—a drowsy, clumsy attempt at a nod, she assumed. After a beat, he said, “Right. Just like before.”

There was nothing left for her to say to him. So she just said thanks, and then she exited the car.

He zoomed off the second her door shut behind her. As she watched the silhouette of his Maserati drive out of sight, she was struck once more by what a wild night it had been. She had been saved by her worst enemy. She had sat by him on an old train and in a luxury vehicle. She had shown her mark to him. How out of character—perhaps she had been seized by a bout of insanity after she was mugged.

She was thankful for his help. She was also ready to go back to forgetting that Harry even existed. With any luck, their relationship would return to the exact state it had been in before: nonexistent.

#harry bingham #allie pressman #the society #harry x allie #hallie #it took SO LONG (I'm sorry) but part 1 is finally here #soulmate au #hope you guys enjoy :)#fic: hallie #my fic #your name on my skin

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kpopmalereader · 5 years ago

Text

sight ; ten

• summary: the world turns black and white when you reach your twelfth birthday. it does not return to color until you come into contact with your soulmate for the first time. • pairing: ten x male!reader • word count: 2238 • to do

“Okay,” The director pushes your shoulders a bit to the right, forcing you to face more towards where an audience would be sitting. “Now, Ten,” The director turns to your new acting partner. “You’ve been blind for your whole life, you’ve just been given the gift of sight and you’re seeing the love of your life,” He points at you. “For the first time. You’re amazed by his looks and he’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.”

“I’m the only person he’s ever seen.” You mention, earning a laugh from Ten and a roll of his eyes from your director.

He ignores you and continues talking to Ten. “You have to show that you’re falling in love with him all over again.”

Ten nods and holds his script by your left shoulder. You hold your own script down by your leg, looking down slightly to read it. He smiles softly at you and nods his head, facing morphing from friendly to fake in-love, eyes soft with love and wonder.

“My world before you was dark,” He starts. “Nothing visible beyond my own eyes. But when you came into my life it flooded with color. You told me how the world looked to you and it became music in my ear, and now seeing your face. Your face for the first time, lit by the colors around you, I see now, the beauty of the world you once described.”

“If only you could see the way your eyes take it in.” You say, leaning closer to him.

“I wish for this feeling to carry on infinitely.” He nods his head and uses his left hand to caress your face gently.

His fingers barely brush against your cheek but as his first finger touches you the world around you explodes with color. You gasp and jump back, dropping your script in the process. It’s yellow.

“What happened?” The director walks up to you, arms spread out in exasperation.

You pick up your script quickly and walk back up to Ten. You twist the script in your hands, asking him quietly. “Do you see it?”

He nods slowly. He looks around with wide eyes and you’re sure your own expression isn’t too far off.

The director realizes what is going on pretty quickly and turns to the other students. “Okay, let’s take a five. You two go take a break for a bit.”

“So,” You take a few steps to the edge of the stage, smacking your hands with your script. “I don’t know what to do now…”

Ten nods. “Yeah…” He points to your shoes, a light purple color you weren’t aware of. “I like your shoes. Good taste, even if you didn’t completely know what they looked like.”

“Thank you. I wasn’t completely aware they were this color. My mom told me they were purple. Purple was my favorite color when I was little, I guess she kept the theme going even when I lost the color. I think I still like it.”

Ten nods with you but as you finish talking, the silence around you becomes awkward.

“Can I have your number? So, maybe we can get to know each other.” He starts to pull his phone out of his pocket, waiting for a sign from you to continue. “Away from all of this.”

“Yeah, definitely.” You put your number into his phone, handing it back with a very small smile. “And uhm, from what I know about you, I could have a worse soulmate.”

Ten almost loses his grip on his phone as you walk off the stage. “Okay…”

“This question has been on my mind since we met…” You tap your coffee cup against the table. “What’s your favorite color?”

His favorite color has always been black. Even before, when he could steal see color, he liked black. But seeing you wear the same purple shoes almost every day, knowing he’s got a purple heart next to his name, and seeing the way you immediately send the heart and a purple circle to him with whatever you’ve texted him in the past week. He noticed your shirt when you walked in the shop, solid gray with a purple and yellow pocket and you’re wearing your purple shoes again.

“I think black,” He nods. He takes a sip of his drink before adding. “But I’m slowly becoming more partial to purple.”

You roll your eyes at him and flick your straw paper at him. “Whatever.”

“You still wear a lot of purple. Is it still your favorite color, or are you just riding on the wave of your mom giving you purple things?”

“I think it’s still my favorite.” You answer. “Especially this like light purple or lavender color. I saw this pair of lavender Doc Martens! I might have to ask my mom to splurge and get them.”

Ten makes a mental note of the shoes and nods his head. “It looks good on you.”

You take a long drink, using the cup to hide part of your face. You mumble, almost completely under your breath. “You’re flirting more.”

“Just because we’re soulmates and society expects us to get together doesn’t mean I can’t try to woo you and win you over.” He notices your flushed face but doesn’t say anything about it. “I have a question for you,”

You nod, picking up a sugar packet.

“Did you tell your parents about meeting your soulmate?”

“I may or may not have collapsed on my mom’s bed immediately after school and told her everything. I’m going to be honest with you, I was trying very hard not to have a heart attack when we were rehearsing.” You flick the packet with your finger and scrunch your face up. “You’re a very good actor. Like a great one, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone scouted you into a drama or a movie.”

“Well, I promise you’re going to be my only “showmance”. And you could be right there with me.” You shake your head at him. “You could be! You draw the audience in, your expressions and your voice, it’s melodic. And you were already off book by the third day of rehearsals. I definitely was not.”

“You also have three times the amount of lines I do.” You argue.

He leans forward and points at your face. “But I’ve seen you perform other pieces, seen your other plays and you’re amazing, you’re off book in days and even your rehearsals are spectacular!”

“You’ve seen my other stuff?”

He retracts in on himself. “You’ve been on my radar for a while now. If we’re both being honest about some things, I asked our director if I could work with a different person and I may have mentioned your name once or twice. You’re enticing, it’s interesting.”

You sink into the booth you’re sitting on, picking off small pieces of paper from the sugar packet. You look up at him, making quick eye contact before both of you dissolve into a fit of shy giggles.

“I’ve seen your work too.” You mumble. “A few people in our drama club, including me, have kind of used you as our “we need to work on this and this and this” reminder.”

“Ridiculous.” He states and regains his confident posture. “If you were able to give me half of your talent, I would have more talent in my pinky finger than most people have ever.”

“You already have more talent in your pinky finger than I have in my entire body.”

“Is my soulmate a compulsive liar? Is that what I have to deal with for the rest of my life?”

“You ready?” Ten asks, bouncing up and down on his toes.

You nod. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Are you ready to pretend to be absolutely in love with me?”

“I don’t know that I have to pretend.”

Your knees almost give out on you and you take a step back, punching him in the arm with as much force as you can without making much noise. “You can’t just say things like that before we go out on stage.”

“Shh…” He pulls you back to him, giving you a tight hug. “I’m only joking. Maybe.”

“Shut up.”

His mark is called and he pats your back. “I have to go. You’re going to do great.” He leans to very gently kiss your cheek. “Break a leg.”

You nod and lightly push him away, hoping your red cheeks are hidden by your makeup. “You too.”

You grab the sugar-glass bottle prop for your scene, standing next to the tech as Ten’s appearance unfolds. He gives a short monologue about your characters, small cloth hiding both of eyes. He gives an insight on his life and speaks about your character’s disappearance.

The fake-out antagonist of your play stands next to you. He takes a deep breath and takes a hold of your wrist, sticking the bottle into his coat pocket.

“I never realize how much I truly need him until he’s gone,” Ten finishes, taking a few steps to stage left. The background follows him as he does.

The darker background comes into view as the antagonist does, dragging you behind him. “Stop your fighting!”

Moving from the darkness of backstage to being blinded by the stage-lights always takes some getting used to. “Take me back!” You argue with him and drag your feet.

“This is ridiculous!” The antagonist grabs you by your shoulders and forces you to stand up straight. “Your love.”

You stand up straighter, playing up your forcefully hidden worry. “To what are you referring to?”

“He’s never seen you, his one true wish, to be who you fully deserve.”

“I don’t want anyone but him.” The antagonist pulls away with a smirk. “It doesn’t matter what he does or does not have.”

The antagonist opens up his arms and turns more to the audience. “That is why I’ve brought you here. For what has your love done that would deserve such a punishment?”

“I do not think of it as a punishment. He’s done nothing to deserve a punishment, it must be a hidden gift.”

“What a wonderful way to think.”

You take an apprehensive step closer to him. “What does this place have to do with him?”

“I am not sure his blindness is a hidden gift, but I do have a gift for you.” The antagonist pulls out the bottle, holding it towards you. “His unrest, your willingness to stand by him, through all trials neither of you have sacrificed each other for the sake of yourself. He’s been promised gifts beyond only sight and he’s chosen you. You have stood by him through everything, helping him through life, working when he cannot. You’re there.”

“He’s the love of my life. I will do anything I can to remain by his side.”

“And that,” The antagonist points at you with his opposite hand. “Is why I believe you should be rewarded.”

He grabs your hand and forces the bottle into it.

“What is this?”

“The gift of sight. Give it your beloved, from your hands to his, only from your hands to his, and he’ll see.”

The antagonist nods to the bottle and backs off the stage, leaving you and the audience to think over the exchange.

You look to the wings, taking two steps back as the background moves back to the home scene.

“Who’s there?” Ten asks, standing up from the porch’s seat.

“It’s me.” You walk to the bottom of the steps. “I’ve returned, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Ten slowly walks down the stairs, reaching out for your arm. “Where were you?”

You smile and fix his hair lovingly, voice becoming light and joking. “Taken by a mysterious figure.”

His hand travels down your arm, fingers bumping into the capped bottle you’re still holding. “What is this?”

“He said it was a gift.”

“That was not a joke?” Ten takes the bottle from you, moving it between his hands. “What is it?”

“He claimed it was the gift of sight.” You shake your head. “He told me it was a reward for our time together and the struggles you’ve been through. I do not believe he is to be trusted.”

Ten holds the bottle and walks downstage. “What is there to lose?”

“Don’t speak like that.” You follow him a step behind. “It could be a poison.”

Ten looks out off stage. “It might be real.”

“And it might not be.” You warn him. “Put it down. Pour it out.”

He uncaps the bottle and holds it out.

“Love.”

He brings the bottle to his lips and you begin to walk closer to him. You reach forward to grab it from him, pushing the bottle out of his hands and to the ground where it shatters, empty.

“Love, love.” You grab his shoulders. “Why would you do that? You don’t know what might happen!”

“What will happen will happen.” He smiles and leans forward to you, brushing his lips against yours.

“That’s not what you should say. We don’t know what will happen.” You back away from him, panic beginning to set in.

His face falls and his hands shake as his hands slowly move up to the fabric covering his eyes. It falls away and as his eyes adjust, you come into view.

“My love,” He says.

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