#and the knowledge of what he was willing to do

[ramshacklefey]

Wait hang on this actually got me thinking about the stuff that leads up to Waternoose (ohhhh shit I just got his name wow) being held accountable:

Mike and Sully realize that the narrative of human children being dangerous is false.

They act against social and legal standards to protect Boo.

They discover that Randall is acting to exploit children in the interests of the company.

They try to inform Waternoose of Randall's actions and discover that he is complicit in them, claiming that he is doing it to protect society from the disaster of having insufficient resources.

They decide to act against Waternoose, the interests of the company, and possibly the interests of their society as a whole, because all of those things are dependent on causing harm to and exploitation of another group.

The government agency responsible for protecting Monster society from the perceived "danger" of human children acts to reveal Waternoose's corruption and hold him accountable, again in spite of the fact that this will destroy the company and cost Monster society their main source of energy.

Mike and Sulley realize that there is an alternative form of energy available that is better than Scream and doesn't require exploiting others.

THE KEY ELEMENT HERE IS THE HEAD OF THE CDA ACTING AGAINST WATERNOOSE.

Roz could have turned a blind eye to Waternoose because his plan would benefit their society in the short term. She had the power to do that. But she chose her duty to protect society from corruption and greed over everything else.

That's what allowed Mike and Sulley to use their new knowledge to improve their society's well-being and prevent the harm being done by the collection of Scream.

Without Roz, Waternoose would have gotten rid of Sulley and Mike, preventing them from realizing that there was an alternate source of energy available. The Scream Extractor was already a solution to the problem, and it's one that fit in with the social belief that children are dangerous!

So, what's the takeaway here?

It's that social/political changes will only come about if:

Ordinary citizens have the knowledge needed to find new ways of doing things;

Those citizens are willing to act against social norms and powerful people to protect others. (And potentially to act on their discoveries. Mike and Sulley had all the pieces they needed to discover the power of laughter before Waternoose was gone. In the story, it didn't come to this, but we can imagine a scenario where they tried to set up a new business in competition to Waternoose.); AND

Those with the power to regulate and hold accountable people like Waternoose actually do so.

When it comes to many current problems in our society, we already have the first two things in place. Our Waternooses are actively working to prevent Number 3 from being a thing. They're to get rid of Number 1 by destroying education systems. They're trying to get rid of Number 2 by convincing people that they're invincible and necessary to the functioning of our society. That there's no hope for change and that trying to change will hurt everyone.

If we want to change things, we have to stop them from doing that. And we can. We have the means to work from the bottom up, to educate and encourage others, and to start forcing that change.

And damn if a kids' movie from 2001 didn't manage to say all that. (I give the corporates who funded the movie no credit for agreeing or supporting that message, but the writers and animators who managed to get the movie past them.)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Jason with a masc s/o who CANNOT stop stealing his jacket, he puts it down for ONE second and it’s already on them and they’re all snuggled up in it, so happy and cheeky

This’ll probably be short.

‘Hey chipmunk have you seen-‘ Jason didn’t even need to finish his sentence when he saw you, all warm smiles and giggles, hogging the very jacket he had been looking for the entire morning.

Jason couldn’t help but smile at your happiness in being in his clothing and would happily watch you indulge in his jacket for the rest of his life, but still he had to ask, ‘are you having fun with my jacket are we, jacket stealer?’ His eyes flash with mischief as he saw your posture straighten up at the sound of his voice.

‘Jason.’ You groaned. ‘You don’t really need this specific jacket do you? You’ve got tones in your wardrobe.’ You defended as you gripped his jacket that fitted you perfectly and as warmly as a loving embrace that you never wanted to leave, that and Jason’s scent lingered within the material, that of which helped you sleep easier at night with the knowledge that he was there with you in another way.

‘You mean your wardrobe?’ Jason retorted, ‘it’s no wonder I can barely find anything of mine because you’re hogging it for yourself, leavening your beloved man with nothing to stave off the unforgiving cold.’ He pouts as he acts as though he was freezing by rubbing up and down his bare arms, making you laugh as you wandered over to him from your bed and hugging him by the waist, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

‘It’s not my fault that you have the best jackets that you keep lying on the floor, they’re just begging me to be picked back up and loved again by being worn, by me specifically.’ You defended yourself with a cheeky smile as Jason held your face and peppered your face in kisses, making your chuckle while at his mercy.

‘You’re lucky you’re cute,’ Jason murmured as he continued to pepper your face in kisses and nuzzles against your cheek and neck, ‘real lucky but I’ll get you back sooner or later for being a little jacket stealer.’ He says once he pulls away but made sure that you were still very much kept pressed up against him, just so he could shamelessly see just how good you look in his jacket.

It was unfair just how good you looked right now that Jason didn’t mind you hogging all his jackets, especially if it meant he could walk in on you wearing them as though you were against the idea of ever parting from something that belonged to him, him! If that wasn’t enough to warm his own heart then he didn’t know what would, but Jason wasn’t about to complain when you were Mel then willing to show your adoration to him by wearing his clothes, even if he took it off for five minutes, you were quick to keep it warm and loved as though you were loving him through the fabric.

So Jason was already coming up with ways to keep having you snatching up his jackets, hoodies and clothes and wearing them as though you’d never get the chance again. It’s become his favourite thing to witness in his life and he wanted to see it even more often if you’d let him, which he’d hope you would for as long as your with him.

[muletia]

your yandere starscream snippet?? good lord... 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️as a fellow starscream simp I (and plenty of other followers) are willing to read more if u wanna expand on yandere starscream? (ignore or delete if u dont wanna :3)

[tfp] yandere!starscream x human!reader very incoherent and crack(ish) ramblings because I'm insane about this scrimblo

Imagine it’s four in the morning, and you suddenly wake up to get a drink of water. You lean over to grab the full glass on your nightstand, but you don’t even manage to touch the glass with your fingertips because you notice a pair of scarlet optics staring directly at you in the darkness. Oh, and they’re hovering right above your bed. The best part? This isn’t the first or last time this has happened, because he frequently breaks into your house at night just to look at you.

You’d better hope you sleep through his visit, because if you wake up and Starscream notices, you’ll be bombarded with a monologue about how you don’t pay him enough attention. How dare you bolt the doors against him?! You knew full well he would come to see you. And now, thanks to you, the door is ripped off its hinges, cold air is pouring into your house, and he absolutely detests the cold. So you’d better warm his majesty up—or he’ll shove himself under your blanket. Oh, and it’s only Tuesday, which means you’ve got at least ten more incidents like this to look forward to this week.

Since he enjoys breaking into your house—because it’s nice to have a place where no one takes out their frustrations on you with brute force, and where he’s at least somewhat welcome (or so he convinces himself)—he also loves to snatch a few “souvenirs” for himself. Especially when his obsession reaches its peak and he knows he won’t be able to see you for a while. Usually, it’s your clothes that he takes. They remind him of you when he desperately needs comfort.

He’ll nuzzle and cling to them, imagining he’s doing so with you, using them to stave off complete madness. The only downside of stealing clothes soaked in your scent is that the scent fades far too quickly, especially since Starscream often finds himself in rough patches. So you’ll soon notice your clothes disappearing at an alarming rate. Unfortunately, I’m afraid you’ll never get them back. Starscream will adamantly deny any knowledge of the theft and refuse to return the stolen items. By now, they’ve been so thoroughly abused that they’d never return to their original state of cleanliness anyway.

Without his obsession, Starscream is already demanding attention, but when you add a deranged and unhealthy love into the mix, his need for attention skyrockets. When you’re awake, and Starscream decides to visit you—which happens alarmingly often, especially during his self-imposed exile, he insists you keep your eyes on him at all times.

When you talk to him, you must look at him, listen carefully to what he has to say, and actively participate in the conversation. Otherwise, he becomes unbearable. You can’t walk away or leave him; you’re forced to engage. Any attempt to escape will result in manipulation—and if that doesn’t work, he’ll use force. How dare you use your phone in his presence? He’ll snatch it right out of your hands and force you into a conversation with him. Ignoring him despite his threats and insults? If you’re outside, he’ll pin you in place with his claws, forming a sort of cage, and continue his tirade as if nothing happened. If you’re indoors, he’ll trap you with his body instead.

The problem is that once physical contact occurs, Starscream has no intention of letting go.

He clings to you so desperately it’s almost disgusting. He constantly forces physical contact, whether it’s kissing, stroking, or demanding affection himself, often at the most unexpected times, like that miserable four in the morning. And since he’s nearly impossible to satisfy, these sessions can go on forever.

Hours spent stroking his helm and delivering monologues praising his majesty leave your wrist aching and your throat sore. And the next day? You can look forward to another session of the exact same thing.

He’s intensely possessive and jealous, ready to gouge out the eyes, or optics, of anyone who dares so much as glance at you. You can’t even mention your friends’ names in his presence. He’d be happiest if you stopped interacting with anyone else altogether, shrinking your circle of acquaintances down to just him. You don’t need anyone else, right?

After all, the only thing he needs to be happy is you and you alone.

He’s exhausting, demanding, and unafraid to use force to get what he wants from you, but you’ll never get rid of him, no matter how much you might want to. You can scream at him until your voice gives out, try to fortify your home against his intrusions, but Starscream isn’t going anywhere. He has no intention of giving up the only source of comfort in this vile and unjust world. He’ll fight for you at the cost of his sanity—or even his life.

[bigalockwood]

For the first time, Wille understood what dogs must feel like who had to sit still and wait before they were allowed to eat. He felt like a starving man. And now? Now Wille couldn’t stop watching Simon, his fingers prickling with the knowledge that he was right there, just out of reach. He watched as Simon laughed, throwing his head back, revealing a long stretch of bare skin and his sharp jawline. Wile wanted to nip the soft spot right below his Adam’s apple. He wanted to devour him. Simon turned around, eyes immediately falling on Wille. He looked hungry. Wille swallowed.

Or: A few months after Hela kändis-Sverige bakar has wrapped, Wille and Simon particiapte in a Christmas special. Due to Simon’s touring schedule, they haven’t seen each other in a while. Despite the cold outside, things get a little heated.

I'm sure that none of you are aware of this and many of you won't care. However! Do you know what day today is? It's Royally Whipped's first birthday!! 🎂🥺 And since I've been in desperate need of reasons to smile myself, I hereby offer you this, The Thing I've been hinting at, in hopes that it'll make your day a bit brighter. This is a glimpse into Simon’s and Wille's future. Thanks to all of you who have read the story and showed your love in one way or another. I hope you know how much it means to me. 💜

Thanks to the wonderful Roo @sobadbad who made the coziest, sweetest header in record time. Ily 💜

And thanks to Tina @wilmonsfolklore who gave me the idea for the title. Ily 💜

Go read it here! (Which imo you can even if you haven’t read Royally Whipped.)

Or if you haven’t read Royally Whipped yet and would like to know more about baking!Wilmon… go here. 🍰

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

We don’t talk enough about how important it is that Runs in the Family is the only song (to my knowledge) that is just one person. There’s no ensemble, it’s just one voice. It’s just Darrel. Because he is going through a struggle that no other character can relate to. His problems are so uniquely his that there’s no one he thinks he doesn’t have anyone to lean on.

How this song sounds like it’s his list of complaints, but in actuality, it’s his plea for someone to help him. It’s not a super slow song or a song with obviously sad lyrics, so we can tend to think it’s him just venting. But when we look closer, especially to lyrics like “I keep treading water, but I sink just like a stone”. That’s a direct example of him describing how he feels. He’s drowning. He’s drowning in bills, in grief, and in fear. He’s terrified because he thinks that one day, the state will wake up and realize he’s not fit to be raising his brothers. One day, the social worker, who’s probably double his age if not more, who he convinced that he was capable of taking care of his two teenage brothers, will show back up at his door and take them away. He’s terrified. He says that himself in the line “I don’t know what them boys would ever do without me, and what would I do in my own?” He works extra hard because he needs there to be money.

He needs to keep his brothers safe and warm and fed. He needs to be the one providing that because that’s the only way he truly knows they’re being taken care of. And if he needs to drown to make sure they’re ok, he’s willing to make that sacrifice.

[stupidlittlespirit]

You asked for some cute fun asks, so I've appeared to help!

If you've ever played (or watched someone else play) the Swooning Over Stans game, there's a scene in Stan's route where you go to a 70s dance night with him. It's very fun and flirty~

Ever since then, I've wondered if Ford would enjoy going for a dance like that with his s/o. I can definitely see him getting SUPER nervous about it beforehand because he's having flashbacks of his prom night disaster and thinking he's going to totally bomb it. But maybe his date would coax him to just have a little fun, let loose.

I agree with your thought that he'd be the kind of guy to like old classic crooner music (and now I'm swooning for real just thinking abt it), but maybe some 70s funk can get him going, too. Now every time I listen to that stuff, I can't help but picture Ford trying to teach his date how the dances really went (and possibly failing miserably but laughing over it)

GOD yes, I played Swooning when it first released and it was wonderful. I've played it through on both routes about 10 times each lol. I still can't believe we were gifted such a gorgeous game by all of those talented people for free.

I know exactly what scene you mean. That was such a nice touch.

I daydream about this fucking scenario with Ford a lot. It's so silly but I do it when I listen to that kind of music and it's really nice haha Very normal of me, I know, so expect a long answer to this under the cut:

I'm going to set this within GF, but at a function beyond the town he might struggle a little more unless he knew the people there.

I think Ford would be (naturally) nervous beforehand for the reasons you mentioned. He's not very fond of social interaction that isn't super necessary, though post portal he is definitely better at that than he was, and the thought of doing something that holds bad memories would be very daunting for him, to the point that he'd probably refuse at first. More so with the excuse that he doesn't have time or doesn't care about stuff like that than admitting he's nervous.

Mabel would definitely encourage him to go and Reader would mention that they'd enjoy having some fun/seeing him have fun as well, plus they'd certainly miss Ford if he stayed at home. They would understand his hesitation around the event but a little gentle comforting from them around the knowledge that they'd be there to support him would go a long way, I think.

"There's no pressure to stay if you get there and don't like it," and "We can just go home, you're in control of the situation and I'll be by your side no matter what," kind of thing. I think he'd find that very soothing and helpful, just to be reminded that no one will force him. Eventually, he'd give a little and agree on those terms. Plus, Mabel would guilt him a bit because she wants to see him to be included haha.

Once he got there, he'd be a wallflower to begin with. That's fine, obviously. He needs time to settle in. Maybe a drink or two, as well (I know how he feels LMAO) before he can really get comfortable. He'd look to Reader for comfort but he'd also not want to prevent them from enjoying themselves, so he wouldn't insist they stay with him all the time.

I don't think he'd refuse to engage with other people; he'd be reasonably accustomed with the townsfolk anyway so he'd know them and their demeanours a bit more than if he was at a totally new function or with people he had never met. He wouldn't start general conversation (unless it was with Fiddleford), though.

He'd definitely be more inclined to hover around the edge of the party rather than step straight in like Stan would, but if people came up to see him and say hi (and they would because the family is known and liked) then he'd be able to hold good conversation. Post-Portal!Ford is going to have developed his social skills a great deal from his time away and I think he'd be more willing to hear what other people have to say and engage with them.

When he was younger, I think he might have only really been interested in talking about the topics he knew about because they felt safer for him, they were something he was good at talking about, but obviously when you're that smart it's nigh on impossible to find that level of conversation with others so he would have considered himself a failure in terms of social ability purely because he struggled to connect on that aspect, when really he'd just be expecting a bit too much from the general populous. That, combined with general awkwardness and a lack of knowledge on how to make menial conversation would have made it really hard for him. He does talk about that in TBoB, actually, with the joke he makes about pie in the diner. It doesn't land because the waitress doesn't have that level of understanding. It's a funny joke though! He is good at talking to people, he just comes at it from a unique angle.

So, anyway, I digress. He'd be a bit shy but he'd be open to chatting to others, and eventually he'd warm up. He'd realise he's been overthinking everything a bit too much and getting in his own way, and then start to ease up without even realising.

Reader, meanwhile, would have to strike a balance on making sure he was okay and also giving him the space to bloom on his own. Maybe making eye contact with him from across the room and giving him a little thumbs up-thumbs down gesture to check in, only for him to return a thumbs up and big, warm smile, much to their relief. They'd have known he was capable of it, he just needed to remember his capability himself.

So after a bit of time and a bit of space to find his feet, he might overhear that they're playing the kind of music he used to listen to in his youth. I'm going to project here (because you guys know my affinity for 70's music) and say maybe some Baccara (Yes Sir, I can Boogie is a banger), some Bee Gees (duh), just anything fun.

Ford would know the words by heart and once you'd returned to his side, he'd be singing them under his breath or tapping his foot or whatever, and you'd ask him if he wanted to dance. He'd say no because dancing requires a level of self-humiliation and he'd be too self conscious initially, but again, you would coax him a little.

I think you could ease him into it (I think that's the trick with Ford generally anyway). Maybe Reader would take one of his hands and he'd twirl them around, just indulging them a bit because he'd think it's endearing even if he won't do it himself.

I think seeing someone else be a bit silly puts other people at ease and makes them a bit more willing to be silly themselves, so he'd kind of get a little more into it as the music went on and once things changed to those slower, crooning songs, he might just take Reader's other hand and (much to their absolute joy) slow dance with them a bit. He'd prefer to stay tucked into a corner rather than make a show of being out on the dance floor like his brother, but I think he'd be inclined to sing a little bit, just quietly, privately, and lead Reader in a dance.

He wouldn't be a practised dancer but he'd be able to keep time and count beats (it's math!) and although he'd still fuck it up, as would Reader because I doubt many of us are classically trained dancers, he'd be able to laugh along with you and have fun. He'd forget the room, as would you, and you'd be able to really have an intimate, joyful moment together.

God fuck I am so normal about this old man. This is the kind of shit they put you on medication for if you tell the therapist too much LMAO

Also shameless self plug but here is my playlist for this exact scenario. 'Misty' by Lesley Gore is my personal favourite Ford song. Don't judge me, I beg.

[rederiswrites]

Tranquil NPC ideas for Veilguard

Veilguard is a very good game, but I think moving away from the concept of Tranquility was a disservice to previous lore and characters, so here are some ideas for Tranquil characters we could have met who are well within the scope of canon.

Minrathous: a Tranquil elf selling herbs and a unique stat boost potion inside the temple. When questioned, she will dispassionately explain that she was a slave, and when she tried to use her ability to do magic to better her family's circumstances, her master instead had her declared dangerous and made Tranquil.

Lords of Fortune: Isabela employs a Tranquil scholar, to be found in the lower level with the other scholar. Ambient dialogue establishes that one of the few known ways to make Isabela truly angry is to abuse or belittle him in any way. If questioned, he reveals that he was made Tranquil at a Circle in the Free Marches, and was a refugee for a time before Isabela found him.

Wardens/Hossberg: In the encampment at Lavendel you find a formerly Tranquil mage working with the Wardens. She was restored from her Tranquility following Wynne's actions in Asunder. She is willing to tell you a little about the experience. Sh says that being made un-Tranquil was excruciating, and almost killed her, but even if it had she would consider it worth it.

Felassan: I can't say what the intent of the creators is, but it's established with Feynriel's quest in DA2 that when you kill someone in the Fade, they're rendered Tranquil in the physical world, not dead. So we are free to imagine finding Felassan wandering the paths of Arlathan, nearly skin and bones, surviving out of the same basic self preservation that we see in other Tranquil. As he does not bear the brand of the Tranquil, it is initially difficult to understand what makes him different.

He is willing to be placed with the Veil Jumpers, offering his knowledge to them and to you. Only after several conversations and meeting The Betrayal of Felassan in the Crossroads can you ask him what happened to him.

[summerhuntresses]

the good man scorns

[ao3]

Same song, same dance, same smile and laughter and graceful wave everywhere she went. The bubble was beginning to feel like it was the only real thing in her life.

OR,

A glance into the mindset of a grieving good witch, during the celebration of a wicked witch's death.

~~~

No one mourns the wicked, indeed.

Same song, same dance, same smile and laughter and graceful wave everywhere she went. The bubble was beginning to feel like it was the only real thing in her life, buoying her from dream to dream as she spread the news of Elph- of the Witch’s death. It really was all starting to blur together, the faces of her fellow Ozians upturned to her so eagerly as they waited to hear the news she brought.

She could tell them anything, really. Part of her wanted to, just to see how long it would take before they realized she was lying. Would they realize the lie? The Wizard had been a terrible person, and Morrible worse yet, but they had been effective in their work. Oz had never been more docile, its communities less willing to think for themselves. El- The Witch had tried, flitting from town to village to sanctuary with her message of hope and truth and revolution, but she had been one person fighting an uphill battle against the tireless propaganda machine of the Emerald City. There had never been a chance.

There had never been a chance and Glinda had told her, said exactly that in the clock tower all those years ago. Oz, even the Wizard had told her! But no, Elpha- the Witch had had her morals, would never have aligned with the Wizard after he had revealed his deceit to her, even just for a short time. She would rather have martyred herself on the altar of her own resolve, uncompromising to the end.

Well, Glinda hopes she was happy when she died. She hopes she was happy as she burned, hopes that she found peace in the knowledge that she never betrayed her principles even as the whole world aligned itself against her. Glinda hopes her willful, stubborn shortsightedness brought her utter fucking bliss in the end, when she died alone and in agony with the entirety of Oz united in hatred against her and her cause.

Glancing down at the crowd clamoring beneath her, Glinda had to suppress a laugh that she knew would have come out far, far too jagged to be appropriate for the celebrations. The thought that any of the shamelessly naive Munchkinlanders dancing in the square would have the slightest idea of what it was the Witch had been doing was funny. She knew good and well that some of the people below her had known Elpha-

She breathed.

Some of the people below her had more than likely known Elphaba as a child, had been the ones who hurt her so badly she had come to Shiz with walls like a fortress insulating her from the world. It hadn’t mattered. It didn’t stop them from turning on her, condemning her, hating her. 

Was it you, she wondered. A handsome young Munchkin twirled a pregnant woman, laughing as they stepped on a ripped wanted poster. Were you the ones who threw stones at a child who had never done anything but want to be loved? A group of washerwomen chattered as they worked, dipping their hands into troughs stamped with instructions on precisely how to kill the Witch. Would you even remember if it was?

No, it hadn’t mattered a single bit. Once the Wizard told them to hate, they hated. Once Morrible told them to fear, they feared. Once Glinda the Good told them to celebrate, they laughed and cheered and danced like children.

She looked down at the sea of faces before her, men and women and children blending together until all she saw was a single being, one soul in many bodies that reached and grasped and pawed at her, desperate to be spoon-fed the honey-sweet cocktail of lies and fear and twisted truth that they had been gobbling up for years while saying ‘thank you’ and asking for more, please, always more.

Pain shot through her jaw where she had clenched her teeth, biting down on nothing as she forced herself to keep smiling. They were dragging something into the square- an effigy, she felt herself realize. A straw mockery of Elphaba, forty feet tall and adorned with the hat she had given her on the day Glinda had been seeing in her dreams for the last ten years. It took her a moment to see the sign hanging from her- from its neck, hateful words stark and black before her eyes. 

Kill the witch.

Well, Glinda mused, it’s a bit late for that.

There was a heavy, pounding pressure rising behind her eyes, fury and grief and despair blending together and urging her to do something that she knew she would regret. It felt a bit like one of Elphaba’s flying monkeys was trying to claw its way out from beneath her ribcage, claws rending and horrifying fangs tearing her delicate insides to shreds. It wouldn’t surprise her if she opened her mouth and blood came spraying out, mixing with the scream she had been holding in since that day at Kiamo Ko.

She kept smiling. A child gave her a flower to toss. She shook the hand of a young mother. The effigy rolled closer.

There was a kind of absentminded regret she was feeling, she realized, that she was so clearheaded in this moment. She spared a moment to wish that she could dissociate on command, could astral project, could use the Grimmerie to cast a single fucking spell that would help her not feel what was coming.

The effigy rolled closer. A man handed her a torch with a bow. Glinda felt white heat roll up through her bones and squeeze the air from her lungs, felt the insane urge to drop the torch and ram the pointed end of her wand into his eye, felt her knuckles go white.

She smiled, and threw the torch on the pyre.

Oh, she realized. I hate them.

She turned away, never letting her smile drop. Her entire body ached from how stiffly she held herself, but she could not make her muscles relax. She was still smiling, could feel the strain in her face, could see the Munchkinlanders light up with pride and joy and relief when they met her eyes.

It had been long enough, surely. The effigy would burn for hours and she had more stops to make on her impromptu tour of Oz. Much to do, she thought absently. The Palace alone would be hell to get under control, between rooting out Morrible’s spies and disbanding the Gale Force and squashing any residual Wizard sympathizers. She couldn’t spend her entire day standing in a backwater Munchkin village as they cheered the death of her- the death of the Witch.

As she stepped back into her chariot, hitting the button to form her bubble, she felt a faint shimmer of relief. Her younger self would laugh, she was sure, if told that one day she would become the most beloved ruler Oz had ever seen but would crave nothing more than solitude. 

Movement caught her eye, a young woman pushing her way to the front of the crowd. Glinda managed not to sigh, popping the bubble again. She had been so close to escaping these people, so close to blessed solitude away from- No, she cut herself off. Too far.

“Is it true you were her friend?” 

Glinda felt the air leave her lungs in a rush, the words landing like a sledgehammer.

The woman asked the question loudly, not shouting but projecting in a slow and measured way, obviously intending for the entire crowd to hear her clearly. The disgust in her tone was masked but still present, anger clear in her stance and the set of her jaw. A wave of gasps and horrified mutters swept through the crowd, people who had just minutes ago been laughing and smiling and bowing over her hand now staring judgmentally and with the stirrings of fear in their eyes.

“Friend?” Her voice was faint, memories rushing through her mind like a flood. Facing off in the courtyard. Dancing at the Ozdust. Running through the halls of Shiz. Lying in their shared room. Kissing on the train. Passing notes in class. Hand in hand, always hand in hand, attached at the hip, two parts of one whole- until they weren’t. Until that horrible, awful, nightmarish day where Elphaba had flown off the handle and flown off into the sky and left her behind because she was too stubborn, too moralistic, too good to stay.

Because Glinda was too cowardly, too selfish, too wicked to stay for.

“Friend.” She said the word slowly, tasting every letter as it left her lips. “No, not her friend.” The crowd breathed a sigh of relief, a single organism before her once more. The woman frowned, her mouth opening to say something else that Glinda didn’t care about. She continued, “They haven’t invented the words to describe what she was to me.”

She died for you, she thought but didn’t say. She died trying to save you and you burned her at the stake. 

The Munchkins were in an uproar but Glinda had no interest in soothing their feelings. Enough was enough. 

She tapped the button by her feet once more, sighing in relief as the bubble sprang into place and muted the furious clamor of the square. There were still six more stops on her tour, but she could get to them the next day. It was only an hour back to the Emerald City, and she was quite looking forward to taking a bath by herself and escaping the bleating of the sheep.

[keepmycandleburning]

The juxtaposition of Voldemort asking these two questions just a few pages apart raises so many interesting thoughts for me.

When he's asking if Harry is dead, who is he talking to - directly to Bellatrix (who he'd just been talking to in the previous sentence)? to the whole group? If he's talking to Bellatrix, she doesn't answer, and he then decides he doesn't want her to.

The choice to have Bellatrix be the one to answer who Neville is... (when clearly Neville is more than willing to talk to Voldemort, and anyone who was at the DoM likely knew the answer, or the DEs who taught at Hogwarts, or Hagrid, or McGonagall or any other of the Hogwarts fighters... Voldemort could have just said his name without asking... Harry could've just seen him without this sort of exchange happening at all... This could've been written in so many different ways, but JKR chose Bellatrix). When Voldemort asks a question to a group, is Bellatrix typically the one to answer? Does he expect that? Was he actually asking her personally? Is it natural for him to turn to Bellatrix for answers?

I notice in every scene in which they interact how attentive to him she is. Continuing to talk to him after he tells her to stop in the Ministry, screaming his name when he vanishes, addressing a question that wasn't to her in The Dark Lord Ascending, seating herself (or being placed by him) closest to Voldemort in the forest, being the only one who tries to speak to him in the forest, being the only one to show him care and try to help him after he falls, and even after he tells her to stop... It's out of character for her to not have been the one to answer whether Harry was dead. She doesn't even speak. It seems like one big function of the choice to have Bellatrix be the one to immediately answer the Neville question is to reinforce how out of character it was for her to not answer the question only a few pages earlier. Why? Is she so concerned with helping Voldemort she can't even think about what's happening around her? Does he not want her to step away despite what he's trying to claim? Does Voldemort not want Bellatrix to approach Harry because he's suspicious Harry is dangerous? Is Bellatrix herself hesitant to approach Harry - and if so note that Voldemort immediately picks someone else.

What were Bellatrix and Voldemort actually doing when Harry imagines her withdrawing a helpful hand? Based on the several paragraphs before, she was kneeling directly beside him and was touching him to try to help him up - is him telling her he doesn't need help really enough for her to stop trying? Why would 'I do not require assistance' work when 'That will do' did not?

Is this scene really as drawn out as Harry's internal narration makes it seem? Voldemort doesn't reply the first time Bellatrix speaks to him here - had she already been doing it, but Harry didn't hear because both he and Voldemort were still unconscious? What was Bellatrix doing when Voldemort was unconscious? Probably about what she was doing when he woke up? Was she touching him in front of everyone to check whether he was still alive? Did he wake up with her hands on him?

What relationship must she have with Voldemort so that when he wakes up with her beside him touching him, she knows she doesn't have to move away or stop touching him even when he tells her to, AND she speaks to him in such a manner that makes Harry think she's talking as though Voldemort is her lover? Her LOVER.

The hints leading up to this line build up in clarity throughout the series, with earlier instances like the use of 'Bella' which we gradually confirm is a nickname used only be her family (Narcissa, Lucius, the Black house elf Kreacher), to the even more direct language used in tDLA like 'no higher pleasure,' to the utterly unambiguous use of 'lover' near the end of the final book. This scene is also placed in the middle of Voldemort experiencing a series of great losses - the cup, the knowledge that Harry was after the Horcruxes, the ring, the locket, Nagini, and ultimately Bellatrix - and in fact these last two are as closely juxtaposed as the scenes from above, just a few pages apart and so comparable but so different. Nagini's death functions as a final reminder of how Voldemort reacts to a huge personal loss:

But to the loss of Bellatrix:

His last Horcrux, his last Death Eater standing - both a scream, both fury, but only one reaction strong enough for his magic to involuntarily explode around him forcefully enough to blast multiple people off their feet?

(People he was not capable of doing this to consciously, or he would have already. This is not a normal fury reaction for Voldemort, or he would have experienced it at other times; this is not something he is consciously capable of, or he would do it at other times - most relevantly, he would have done it in the final confrontation with Harry to save his own life. He could not.)

What relationship must he have had with her to react to the loss of her worse than to the loss of his SOUL? We see him react to the losses of several pieces of his literal soul, and not one of them gets a comparable reaction to the loss of Bellatrix - not the one that happens first unexpectedly, not the one that happens directly before his eyes. His 'last, best lieutenant' who only a handful of pages earlier was speaking to him 'as if to a lover'? No matter how the text is dissected it always leads to the same answer.

[siena-sevenwits]

Finally read the rest and wrote up some comments as I went - thanks for your patience!

I probably said it before, but I love the hominess and the evident closeness of this family.

Ah, there is a mystery about this young fellow Erran. He seems at home in this family setting, yet he’s never spoken a word of his own family, whoever they might be/might have been.

So is Erran actually Erandir, I wonder? I don’t know that much yet about your novel, but it sounds related.

“It’s a hard thing to eat alone when you’re used to being surrounded by family.“ Ah, she is clever. She is putting out her feelers.

Nope, no apple tree inside him. Just cyanide. 😉

The carding and spinning portion is a nice way to set the scene after the short time skip.

I like this image of the ladies working on the tunic, and the younger children sitting nearby listening to tales.

For some reason this is putting me in mind of King Alfred hiding in the marshes on the Isle of Athelney with the common people and helping them at their tasks while he’s lying low. I can’t help but wonder what secrets Erran might be hiding. He’s got a willing heart but doesn’t know too much what he’s about – could he be gentlefolk?

Rose is a noticer. And she’s certainly dedicated to nodding out the truth about Erran.

I am curious – the inspiration for their culture reminds me a little bit of Scottish culture, but their situation – being so far outside town and working on this home – is somewhat frontierlike. I wonder what kind of region this is? Bark tea is also very pioneerish.

Aw, he’s speechless that she made him a tunic.

Oh – Erran’s not… a brownie, is he? They made him clothes and his mouth dropped open in shock… And they didn’t give him bannock and cream…  Ah. Lachlan has had the same thought.

Ah, this was a sweet read – and I’m sure it’s that much better with more knowledge of who is Erandir is what he’s actually doing here. Thank you so much for sharing it – I like the rhythm of their family life.

Seeds of Community

finally finished my 2023 @inklings-challenge story! Once again a huge thank you to @valiantarcher, who has read this almost as many times as I have and caught many errors for me. Posting the whole thing from the beginning rather than reblogging the old post with the new parts added on.

>>——> 

The knock at the door gave Rose Bryar a start at first, but halfway to the door she realized it was probably a neighbor who had missed her family at the kirk services yesterday and was coming to check on them. 

It was not. 

Or not a near neighbor, at any rate, considering the young man on the doorstep only made it to the services once in a while. She knew his name, and that he had no family nearby, and lived some distance away, and very little else.

“Erran,” she said, hoping he didn’t notice her disappointment. If it’d been a concerned neighbor offering help she could’ve used it, if only to set her husband’s mind at ease that the work would get done. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“I thought, actually, that there might be something I could do for you.” Erran held up the bulging bag he carried. “I have so many apples on my trees right now, I’d thought to bring some to you all when I saw you on Sunday, and then I asked when you weren’t there and heard your husband had taken ill. I hope it’s nothing too serious.”

There was some trepidation in his bearing that hadn’t been there a moment before. He shifted awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. 

Two surprises in one day. Whether because of the distance he lived that kept him from attending kirk services every week, or some other reason, he had not gained many ties to the rest of the community. Though he was a few years older than Alastair, her oldest, he had not seemed to have much in common with him, let alone any of her younger children. That he would take the time to visit when he hardly knew them was one thing, that he had cared enough to save some apples for them rather than sell his surplus was another. 

“Ill? Well, yes, in a matter of speaking.” She beckoned him in out of the chill wind. Erran’s tunic was looking a mite threadbare. Her oldest boys were out at their chores, but she’d seen to it they were well bundled before they set out. 

 “He was mending the thatch and took a hard fall. The broken leg would be hard enough, but he isn’t comfortable getting about on crutches just yet, the bruising was that bad.” 

Erran entered. If he had been afraid of the illness spreading it ought not to trouble him any longer, but a glance at him showed the same hesitancy.  He had to duck under the herbs that hung from the roof. Perhaps she’d misjudged and he was simply nervous and slow to get acquainted with his neighbors. 

But then he smiled and waved to the twins, to Lachlan, to Shona, and to Isie who was minding the youngest while she carded wool for Shona to spin. 

“They said at kirk that at least the harvest was well in, but I hear there’s never really a good time for a croft to be short handed. I’ve little experience but if there’s anything I can do…” He trailed off. 

She was, absurdly, filled with the urge to ease his mind. She took the offered apples.

“If it’s help you’re offering, I’d be most grateful, but it’s my husband you’ll have to talk to.” She smiled to show her appreciation. “He’s mending, but he’s anxious to be up and about and seeing to things himself. It’s been a hard thing to dissuade him. He knows what needs done and what Alastair and Tann can handle. Shona?”

Ten year old Shona looked up, her spindle still whirling and pulling the cloud of wool she held into thread. 

“Will you check and see if your da is up to a visitor?”

Shona gave a nod, and without a break in the rhythm of her spinning she darted into the other room. 

Meanwhile the sight of the visitor and his bag had caused some minor disruption among the story Isie was telling Lachlan and the twins as she carded. No longer would two year old Caden be content to sit and hear about the brownie who left because he thought the farmwife had insulted him. (Rose was surprised he had lasted this long.) Now he clamored over asking to see what was in the bag. 

“Is it all right if I give them an apple, or will that spoil their appetite?” Erran gave a nod towards the pot she had on the hearth. 

“I like apples,” Caden solemnly declared, reaching for the bag. “They won’t spoil anything.”

“How about we start with one to split with your sisters now?” Rose said, right as Shona returned.

“Da’s awake, and says aye, he’d be pleased,” she said.  

Rose selected an apple and handed it to Shona to split amongst them. Alastair and Tann could split one later, and she had a plan for the rest that she thought they would all like.

Erran held back a pace from her as she led the way in to where her husband Iwan lay, propped up on every pillow they owned to cushion his bruises and ease his breathing. He’d struck his side against the edge of the roof as he fell, and though nothing was broken there the bruises were an added hardship.

But he had a smile ready for Erran when they entered.

“Hello… Erran, isn’t it? Shona tells me you brought a treat for us,” he said.

Erran ducked his head, though there were no low-hanging herbs above him now. “Only some apples. I also came to see if there was anything I could do to help.”

Rose hovered in the doorway as Iwan gestured to the stool beside the bed.  “Have you ever thatched a roof, by chance?”

Erran sat. “I’m afraid not. I do have a decent head for heights and good sense of balance though. I’m willing to learn if there’s someone who can show me.”

Iwan looked up at Rose. “Alastair? Just to show him how?”

Rose relented. Alastair knew what to do, but after what had happened to Iwan she had been wary of letting any of them up there. But it was true, the task needed done, and if Alastair need not be up for long she could rest easier. 

“My oldest two are capable lads,” Iwan continued once she agreed, “but altogether ‘tis a lot on their shoulders. There’s also a large portion of the pasture fence needs mending. Normally I’d be seeing to that with them. The lads would be making sure the shed is ready to shelter the sheep and trimming their hoofs, keeping a watch for foot rot after this damp weather turned their pasture muddy.”

Aye, this damp weather, and Erran in need of warmer clothing if he was to be out in it. Rose left them to their discussion on what else Erran might help with. She had the beginnings of a new task nudging her to action.

>>——> 

The sun was high overhead, and unfortunately so were Alastair and Erran. Alastair should be climbing down any moment now, but he was inspecting Erran’s progress so far and looked to be enjoying himself.  

Twelve year old Tann fidgeted beside Rose as she looked on in concern. She had no head for heights herself, but it mightn’t have been so hard on her if it hadn’t been for the recent accident, and her husband the experienced one among them. Tann seemed envious of his brother, but one son and a kind neighbor was enough to be up so high for now. Alastair had sense enough to be cautious, but so had Iwan. It was a pity the part that needed mending was at the very top. She hated to think what would happen if Erran also slipped, let alone Alastair. 

She refrained from calling Alastair to hurry down and instead sized up Erran, comparing his size to her son since she couldn’t very well have asked Iwan to stand up beside him and she needed to know before she could proceed with her plan. Erran was taller, which had been evident from the first, but seeing them together it was also evident that he was broader in the shoulder. She remembered thinking of him as a lanky youth when he’d first made an appearance in town, all arms and legs, but he had grown significantly since then.

Erran noticed her scrutiny and gave a little wave, then said something to Alastair, who came down as carefully as even she could wish. 

“He’s doing all right,” Alastair said. His cheeks were reddened from the cold wind up there, but when she remarked on it he said it was warm enough up there in the sun. 

She’d been waiting for him to come down before she went indoors to finish getting the noon meal ready with an easy mind, but hesitated when she saw Erran still up near the peak. 

“Does he know he’s welcome to come down and eat with us,” she asked. “He didn’t come prepared, and surely he’s getting hungry.”

Alastair looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun. “I didn’t think to tell him.”

“Neither did I.” Erran had gone straight from visiting Iwan to the pasture to see Alastair about learning how to mend the thatch. They’d had a busy morning.

“Can I climb up just to tell him,” Tann begged.

Rose ruffled his hair. “You may go halfway up the ladder, I’m sure he will be able to hear you from there without you having to shout.”

He mumbled that it was not the same, he wanted to be at the top, like Alastair, but dutifully went no further than that. Even so the ladder wobbled under his exuberance as he climbed. 

Erran noticed its movement with a start and reached out to steady it as Tann called up the invitation. Erran called something back to Tann, who said something back before he bounded back to them. 

“He says if it’s no trouble. I told him of course it wouldn’t be.”

>>——>

Alastair and Tann went in to report the day’s progress to Iwan. His mind was already greatly eased with the prospect of help, even if it was inexperienced help, and he would be eager for news of how it was coming.

Erran’s awkwardness returned as he came in the house, and she thought at first that he would just as soon have taken his meal out on the roof, but it wasn’t long before he relaxed again. Bless him, he even wanted to help, and contributed by entertaining Lachlan and the twins and keeping them from running underfoot as Isie set the table and Shona sliced the bread. Erran taught Lachlan a silly rhyme about a bunny, with hand motions so simple that soon even Caden and Lissie could join in. It had them in fits of giggles and kept them for a time from running around in the house like wild things. She’d have to remember it.

It made her wonder about his family. He had to have had one once. What had brought him to their town all alone and so young? At the time he could not have been older than Alastair was now and had seemed even younger.  Too young to be without family. Mayhap it wasn’t shyness that had kept him from developing ties in the community, but grief. 

This occupied her mind while she portioned mutton and carrots onto everyone’s dishes and cut the youngest ones’ meat into bite sized pieces for them. 

“Is Master Bryar going to be able to come in to eat, or does he take his meals in there?”

Erran’s voice behind her startled her. Goodness, his tread was light. He moved as quietly as the cat. 

There was a bashful grin on his face.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She waved him off with a smile. “It’s all right. It is a lot of trouble for him to come to the table, so the older ones have taken turns eating with him, and keeping him company.  It’s a hard thing to eat alone when you’re used to being surrounded by family.“

He nodded. Not a flicker of anything showed on his face to confirm or deny her guess, but it seemed he understood. 

“I asked because I thought I might bring his in for you and sit with him a while,” he said, “but they should have their time with him. That would be something special, I’m sure.”

It was a treat for them, and she nearly said so aloud, but on the other hand, Iwan would probably enjoy getting to know Erran better as much as she would. And it would be a long recovery. There would be time for many such visits for the children. 

“I think he would welcome a visit from you as well,” she said. “Tell you what, it would be Isie’s turn, but I know she won’t mind waiting just a little longer for her turn.,” she lowered her voice so it wouldn’t carry to the table where the little ones were now sitting, “There’ll be a surprise after we eat. Isie can bring that in to him and she might enjoy that more because she helped me make it. Isie?”

Isie readily agreed to the switch, and so while Rose wouldn’t get to engage Erran in conversation and learn more about him during the meal, her husband surely would, and then there would be the apple tart she had made. 

>>——>

The only thing that didn’t go according to plan was that the children were so excited about the apple tart she’d made that all the talk around the table centered on apples. 

“I swallowed a seed,” Lachlan said. “Will it grow an apple tree inside me? Shona said it might.”

“I never did,” Shona protested. “I said that’s what Alastair told me when I was little, but apple trees need dirt and sun and rain to grow so it couldn’t work.“

Alastair snickered, and Rose shushed him. 

“They do, Love, so no, don’t fret, there’ll be no apple tree growing inside you.”

“Caden ate the dirt outside,” Lachlan said. “I saw him. And Isie made him wash his face and drink some water. All he needs is sun. Could he grow a tree inside him if he stood outside in the sun? He ate all his seeds. 

“It still wouldn’t work that way,” Rose said.

“Why?”

“You’d have to find a way to eat some sunshine to make it work,” Erran said. “And more dirt. Every day. That’s what my n— that’s what my family told me.”

There would have been the opening she was waiting for, but Lachlan hardly stopped chattering for her to ask.

“I saved most of mine ‘cause I didna want it to grow inside me. I want one outside. Can we grow one? Please?”

“We’ll ask your da,” she said. “I don’t know where we’d plant it, but he might have an idea. It would take a long time before it grows enough to give apples, mind you.”

All too soon, and before she could work the conversation back around to Erran’s family, the tart was gone, and the boys went back out to work. Ah, well. She would ask Iwan what they had talked of.

>>——>

Isie’s pile of carded wool varied, depending on whether Shona was spinning or plying. Lissie was too young yet to be taught how to card or spin, but she could and did chase after stray balls of yarn if they got away from Shona as she plied. She lined them up in neat rows and she and Caden practiced counting with Shona’s help. Caden could also chase after the stray balls but he would throw them wildly as often as return them, so that had to be discouraged—at least until his aim was better. 

Both carding combs and spindle were abandoned for a time when, after they ate and the boys went back out to work, Rose let her girls in on this new project. It wouldn’t be finished fast enough if only one worked on it, but if the three of them pitched in it could be done before long. Nothing very fine, just a serviceable tunic out of a sturdier wool. The linen he was wearing now was terribly frayed at the cuffs and had small holes at the elbows that would grow into bigger ones if left unpatched, besides not being warm enough for this weather.

She cut, using one of Iwan’s tunics as a guideline, and the girls began the seaming, taking turns at first the shoulders, then setting in the sleeves. She finished the bottom of the sleeves as they worked on the shoulders, and hemmed the bottom as they set in the sleeves. It left them all room enough to work. For a time, Lachlan, Caden, and Lissie were convinced to sit quietly and listen to more stories from Isie, Shona, or herself while they sewed. Sometimes they sang. The time passed swiftly.

The thatching was not finished that day. It was growing dark before the hems were complete, and Erran took his leave shortly before sunset, promising to return the next day, and the next, if it took that long. 

Rose paused her hemming mid stitch as she realized she had not given a thought to an important detail..

“Oh, but where will you stay?”  It was sure he couldn’t make it home that day. If there was one thing she did know about him it was that he lived too far from town to make the trip in a day. “If you need—“

“‘I’ve a friend in town who’s asked me to,” he assured her with a wry smile. “He often does, so that I won’t have to leave town before the evening services or travel at night. This morning he asked if I could stay longer and I told him I’d see about it. I can make it back there before dark if I leave now.”

He parted from them with a wave of his hand before she had time to ask after his friend or thank him.

Other neighbors had sent well wishes, and some had likewise visited and even brought gifts of food, but all had their own homes and families and tasks needing done and she’d understood. She had children old enough to take on some extra responsibilities, so there was no question that they could get by. Which might be why Erran’s offer of help felt like such a gift, despite his lack of experience. He could have looked at what they had and assumed that he wouldn’t be needed or wanted. He could have decided that his own responsibilities (whatever they might be, for surely he had to make his living somehow,) were more important, and yet here he was intending to see these tasks through. 

Working on the tunic till it was time to start supper brought them a fair ways toward completion. Shona and Isie each finished setting in a sleeve while Rose finished the bottom, then once the sleeves were set in place, the long sleeve seams were begun. They often stopped to compare progress and make sure neither of them strayed off course. If Shona had a slight advantage in age and experience over Isie, it showed more in speed than in neatness, and at the end of the day when Rose compared the sleeves they were both even. 

>>——>

The next morning, earlier than before, Erran was back and the work on the thatch resumed. He’d arrived with red cheeks, twinkling eyes, and three more apples for the children to share but his hands had been very cold.

She did raise her brows at the apples though. Where had these come from?

“Wynn Fullrede sends his greetings and says to say thank you for feeding me yesterday,” Erran said, rather sheepishly in response to her look. 

Rose smiled. Wynn must be the friend he had stayed with. A good man by all she knew of him, and a good teacher…and one who knew what it took to feed a growing lad. “You can return my thanks to him for these and for lending your help to me when I’m sure he’s missing his student.”

Erran lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, but smiled. It was enough of a confirmation of her guess, though he said only that he would pass along her thanks and no more before heading out to work.

>>——>

The tunic was coming along, but the ordinary interruptions of everyday life delayed them. Toddlers to keep out of mischief, fires to keep going, food to prepare. Those sorts of things. Even so, with at least one pair of hands always working away at them, the side seams were complete before noon. 

As it happened, Iwan hadn’t learned much from his conversation with Erran the day before. They’d talked mostly of the work, as she might have known they would. She pondered over what she’d gleaned from Iwan as she prepared food for the day: only a confirmation that Erran was not from the area, and that he had lived in a city before coming to live somewhere away west of town. An odd change to make, especially coming alone as he had. What sort of work had he done? Had he been apprenticed in a trade? Iwan did not seem concerned about his lack of experience. He was willing to learn and the fact that he’d offered his services at all seemed to speak well of him, and that was enough for Iwan.

“The lads know enough to teach him,” Iwan had said. “T’will be good for them as well. Don’t fret.”

It wasn’t that she disagreed, but something more ought to be known about him.  

Erran indeed had a good head for heights, and though she could not watch him work for long without a shiver, Alastair assured her that from what he’d seen Erran’s sense of balance was fine and he’d taken to the work quickly. 

In fact before the food was ready, Alastair popped in to say Erran was finished with the roof and they were ready to tackle the fence. As Alastair went to tell Iwan, Rose breathed out a sigh of relief and sent up a quick prayer of thanks for the job being finished without further mishap. She had seen Alastair wobble up there on the roof once, and once was enough. 

She had hoped to be finished with his tunic before this, but it was better that the roof hadn’t taken as long as she had expected. Now she needn’t worry about another fall. 

“Don’t start on the fence straight away,” she told Alastair as he headed back out. “All of you should wash up, lunch is nearly ready.”

>>——>

She learned little more from Erran that day in conversation during their meal. He was good at keeping a conversation going with her children, as well as with her, but so little of it told her anything about himself or his life before coming to the area.

 The more she observed him, the more his shyness seemed an unnatural thing to him. 

Lachlan had been deemed just old enough to be careful and take his meal in with his Da, though not of course to take in the tray himself. Erran had volunteered for that, and so when they finished at the table and while the dishes were being cleared away, Erran also retrieved the tray and brought it to her. 

“Master Bryar says to say it was delicious. Lachlan seconds it.”

“Thank you,” she said. She was surprised he’d thought of retrieving it for her. She’d thought he would be on his way back out with Alastair and Tann…but no, they were helping the girls clean the table.

“Thank you again for the meal,” he returned with a crooked smile. “My cooking doesn’t turn out nearly so well, and,” he lowered his voice just a little, “Wynn’s is better than mine, but he doesn’t have your knack either, so it’s not just a matter of experience.”

“Some of it is, I’m sure,” she laughed. “You do enough of it every day for growing children and it begins to come easier to you. How long have you cooked for yourself?”

He thought for a moment before answering. “It’s been a few years since I was doing all of it. A friend of mine stayed with me for a bit when I first moved near here. He was somewhere between you and Wynn in skill, and took more than his share of the turn cooking. He certainly enjoyed it more than I did.” 

He sounded a little wistful as he spoke. If she thought about it she ought to remember anyone else who had shown up at the same times Erran had, but another line of thought seemed more pressing at the moment and she had little time before he would be out again with her sons. What had brought him to Wettham, if not family?

“Erran, before you go back out, may I ask you something?”

She felt a change in his whole bearing as soon as the words left her mouth, though his expression seemed as open as before. “If you like.” He took hold of the cleaning rag she’d set down and scrubbed at a spot on her table.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but until yesterday I would have guessed you preferred to keep to yourself, and yet after yesterday and today I think that’s not true, even if you do live away out there alone.”

She halted before getting to the question. The last thing she wanted to do was make him close himself off. What right had she to push?

“That is not really a question,” he said. There was enough of a smile to his voice to encourage her. 

“You’ve not once mentioned a family. Did something happen to them?

He let out a light breath, almost a laugh with that slight twist of his lips, but not quite; the wistful expression was back. “I should have known you’d be wondering about that. Aye, I did lose my father right before coming to Wettham.  Wynn was a friend of his, and helped get me back on my feet along with another of his friends. That’s the one who stayed with me.”

“I’m so sorry.” She instinctively put her hand on his arm. “And your poor mother?”

He twisted the rag in his hands. “Fever. Years ago… I was a child.”

To her eyes he was little more than a child now. This grief was older, but it was still a grief. To have lost so much and him scarcely older than Alastair…

Was this why he had come so readily to help when he heard about the accident?

Erran glanced up and his eyes were kind. “You were right about me though, I’ve kept to myself long enough. Far longer than is good for me. I’ve—“

“Erran!” Tann waved from the door. “We’re ready.”

She tried not to be disappointed at the interruption and took the rag from his hands. “Well you’re welcome here anytime, if that helps at all.”

His smile was quick.“It truly does. You have no idea how much.”

>——->

With renewed effort, keeping in mind the chill in the air and wondering how in the world Erran had managed thus far on his own, Rose threw herself into finishing the tunic.

She reinforced the neck opening with extra stitching on the border. Her boys were too often rough on that to leave it a weak point. And it might as well look nice. 

Shona and Isie resumed their carding and spinning. They all alternated mediating arguments between the youngest three. It didn’t help that today Caden wanted more than anything to be out of doors with Alastair and Tann, whom he was convinced were having fun without him. Rose had decided they had enough to do out there without minding Caden and ensuring he stayed warm enough. There would be time for that when he didn’t need so much minding to keep out of trouble.

The time flew by, and as the light outside began to dwindle Erran took his leave for the day.

She was prepared for his leaving this time. She handed him a hot pasty. “For the road home. T’will keep your hands warm until the inside is cool enough to eat.”

>>——>

The low-hanging grey clouds the next morning showed their respite from the wet weather was nearing its end and it was nearly time to bring in the sheep to their sheds and the smaller pasture where they could get into shelter themselves whenever they liked.

 Between the morning chores and breaking their fast they wasted no time since the weather did not appear willing to tarry long for them.

 Whatever sense of urgency was in the air, it had spread to Erran as well, as he arrived shortly after the boys left for the field. Rose wondered at how early he must have started off. Surely before it was light out. 

“Are you hungry?” She asked. “There’s plenty here if you like.” 

“Thank you, but I had something on the way here.”

She eyed him, but before she could protest that he’d be working hard and that “something” didn’t necessarily mean it would hold him till lunch, he had gone to catch up to Alastair and Tann. 

She came to fetch Iwan’s breakfast tray from him and saw a twinkle in his eyes. “Rose, when did we get an eighth child?”

“Oh, about two days ago. Don’t tell me you just now noticed?” She raised her eyebrows and he chuckled. “Not at all, my Rose, nor am I surprised.”

She sat with Iwan for a while as she sewed, sometimes in conversation with him and sometimes in companionable silence until she had to begin preparing the noon meal. 

>>——>

While Alastair, Tann, and Erran went back out to the pasture after lunch, Shona bundled up Lachlan and the twins and brought them out with her so they could play while she gathered more willow bark for Iwan’s tea. They came in with rosy-cheeks and high spirits. Rose nearly sent them back out to run around and spend that energy out of doors in case Iwan was ready to sleep again, but Iwan called out to them to come and sit by him and tell all about the games they had played outside.

“Is coooold outside, da.” Lissie could be just heard, plopping down to sit on the bedside rug.

“It isn’t that cold,” Lachlan said, with all the superiority of an older brother; older by three whole years, who could better tolerate the cold. “But it’s getting wet. And windy too.”

Rose looked out in alarm. It was only a little drizzle, not loud enough to be heard in the house, but she thought of the cold and the wet and the wind all combining, and the last thing they needed was for the boys to become ill, and then there was Erran in his thin, worn tunic. 

“Tis just beginning,” Shona confirmed for her as she prepared the bark for tea. “I imagine they’ll be in soon. Or would you like me to fetch them in early?”

Rose shook her head. “If it gets worse and they’re still not back, I’ll go. For now I’ll trust their judgment on how close they are.” She didn’t yet know the measure of Erran in this respect, but Alastair had sense enough to know when to push forward and when to stop.

She set a pot of broth to heat, and hurriedly put in the last reinforcement stitches on Erran���s tunic. 

She clipped the last thread with relief as well as satisfaction. Though it was too late for it to have given him more comfort in the rain, at least he could warm up afterward.

There was still no sign of them and the weather took a turn for the worse. Just as she decided she should go out to them the boys came in, soaking wet, having made sure the animals were secure in their shelters. They had been close, but not close enough and the fence was not yet finished. 

Alastair and Tann she sent to change out of their wet things straightaway, but she held Erran back a moment rather than send him along with the bundle she had already collected. By rights Shona and Isie should be there to see his reaction.

“I couldn’t help the trousers without borrowing from Iwan’s. They’re old and worn, but they’re dry. As for the tunic, well we had that sorted already. 

She presented him with the folded tunic. “From all of us, though t’was Shona, Isie and I that did the sewing. I only just finished it.” 

Erran held it up, looking intently at it. She could not tell what he thought. She waited with hands folded for him to say something, but though his mouth was open he was speechless. 

“Will it fit you, do you think?” She hesitated then added,  “I cut it loose for comfort but if it is too large we can fix it, Shona, Isie and I.”

Erran brushed his finger over the stitching. “You three made this for me?” He looked round at their grinning faces, his astonishment plain. 

“Aye, we did. Go try it on and tell us if it will do.”

“Oh, but you didn’t have to do— I didn’t—“

“T’was not a question of us needing to,” she said. 

“But we didn’t even finish the fence. If I’d known more about carpentry I’d have been more help to you., but—”

“But someone who knows more about carpentry hasn’t come. You have. Go on and ask Iwan. He’ll tell you just how much of a load that has lifted off his mind. Besides, though this may have started out as a token of our thanks, tis now just a gift.”

 His gaze was drawn back to the stitching around the neck. “It’s very fine.”

“Thank you. Now go on with you!” She shooed him to follow Alastair and Tann. “Put it on and get out of your wet things.”

He shook his head and laughed softly. “All right, I won’t argue. Thank you.”

Tann emerged first with his wet things to dry by the fire, then Alastair, and very soon after Erran also returned, looking pleased with his new tunic. It was a good fit. Loose, as she’d intended, but not over-large. 

She gave them the warm broth to ward off a chill and they held a council. 

There was no question of them finishing the fence until it let up, and it showed no sign of letting up before dusk.

Likewise there was no question about sending Erran home in this weather, and even if it let up before dusk he wouldn’t make it back to town that night. No, it was better for all concerned if he stayed here where there would be a roof over his head. Even he had to see that an evening tramping out in that weather was unwise, though she had to dissuade him from camping in the sheep sheds with the flock rather than staying in the house. He had some idea about it being a bother. 

“I’ll make you up a comfortable bed by the hearth,” she insisted. “Tis no trouble.”

Erran finally relented to that on the condition that she let him help in some way. 

He could keep the little ones from being underfoot, clean up for her after supper, that sort of thing. Or anything else she might think of. 

To that she agreed readily. Less because there was anything she could think of that needed done, and more once again to put him at ease. She supposed in his place she would feel awkward about being an unexpected guest. The children had been in and out of the room where Iwan rested, as he’d been sleeping less and needing distractions more. She could tell he was awake now. Alastair had probably told him of the state they’d left the fence in as he passed on his way up to the loft he and Tann shared. 

“Why don’t you have a visit with Iwan?” 

It would, she thought, do them both some good. 

>>——>

For supper they all crowded in. It would end up with more cleaning, this picnic indoors, but it had been too long since they had all eaten together. 

And it would have been worth it for the look of utter contentment on Iwan’s face alone, but it was that good for all of them. The meal had a celebratory feeling. True, there was work yet to be done, and the boys were all disappointed that they hadn’t had a little more time to work on the fence, but they were dry now indoors with a freshly mended roof and laughing together. 

It was Caden who begged a story. He seemed to have been guessing at the approach of bedtime and was greatly interested in delaying it, and decided a story would be a fine way. 

Erran spoke up before Rose could think of one. “What was the one with the brownie that Isie was telling the first day I came? I only heard a little and I don’t remember ever hearing that one.”

“The one with the farmwife who insulted the brownie?” Isie asked. 

“Did she? Last I heard, she was pleased with him.”

“She was, ‘twas an accident. Do you know what to leave out for a Brownie?”

“Bannocks,” Caden said before Erran could reply, and at the same time that Lissie added “Cream!”

Erran grinned. “Bannocks and cream.”

“Well there are things you must never leave out for a brownie,” Isie said solemnly. “You must never leave money, as you can’t pay a brownie for their work as if they were a hired servant. They take great offense.”

“Ahh,” Erran said. “So she left money for him instead of bannocks and cream?”

“Oh no. She made him a suit of clothes, but to this  brownie at least that was just as bad as money! See, at great houses where they have servants, part of their pay comes as nice clothes to wear because everything must look fine in a great house, including the servants. And the farmwife knew none of that, but this brownie did.”

Erran coughed. He seemed to have gotten something stuck in his throat, so Isie paused until he took a sip from his mug and asked her to continue.

“Well that’s almost all of it. The brownie found the nice little suit and thought not only that the farmwife was putting on airs, but that she was considering him her servant and that he would never abide.

“Do the voice!” Caden said with a giggle. “Do it, Isie!”

Isie obliged with a twinkle in her eye and her high voice that she gave a cantankerous twist. 

“Give brownie coat, give brownie shirt, ye’ll get no more o' brownie's work!” 

Before the giggles had quite died down she resumed her storytelling voice. “And then he took himself off and ne’er returned again.”

“Never?”

“At least not that I ever heard,” Isie added in a normal tone. “It is a sad ending, don’t you think? But there. Brownies are a strange folk, and easily offended.”

Lachlan cocked his head, a furrow in his brow. “Erran, you’re not a brownie, are you?”

Erran blinked. Rose could almost see him trying to trace Lachlan’s train of thought to see where the idea had come from, though it was obvious to her, and had to suppress a laugh. Of all the stories to have told that night.

 “I’m rather tall for one, don’t you think?”

Lachlan shrugged. “I dunno. I never saw one.”

“Of course he isn’t one, silly,” Shona said with a laugh. “A brownie would be smaller than the twins.” 

“He came and helped,” Caden put in. 

“Brownies have magic, maybe he could make himself big!” Lissie stretched up her hands as high as she could reach. 

Erran had to have the input of the twins translated for him, as they’d spoken so quickly and their words ran together and he wasn’t so used to that yet. But he smiled and said “No, I’m no brownie. I’ve never seen one myself either but I do hear they’re very wee creatures indeed, and they don’t change their sizes like others of the fair folk can seem to when they’ve a mind.”

“That’s good. I wouldn’t want you to leave and never come back now that mama’s made you something to wear.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Erran’s mouth dropped open in a startled Oh before he gave soft laugh and shake of his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t be able to stay long but I’ll visit. You can be sure of that.”

-Epilogue-

Late spring saw Iwan back on his feet with only a slight limp when he wore himself out. Which, knowing him, would continue to be often. One fine Sunday though they walked to the kirk and when Caden got tired Iwan carried him, as had once been their usual arrangement, and he only needed his walking stick towards the end of the journey. 

Erran was there by the door, greeting one of their neighbors. His eyes lit on them and he waved. A moment later he turned back and was on his way to greet them. The children met him halfway, even shy little Lissie.

“Erran!”

“You should see our apple tree!”

“It’s thiiiis big now!”

It certainly wasn’t as big as all that, but it had survived the winter and the sprout seemed hardy.

“You should come see it!”

Erran laughed, then crouched down to be on their level. 

“I’m glad it’s growing so well. I’d love to come and see it.”

“Da says it’ll take a while to bear fruit,” Tann put in. “And when it does they might taste different from yours even though they came from your seeds. When we get ours you’ll have to come and taste some.”

“Hear, hear.” Iwan called out. He was leaning on his walking stick a little now. Erran stood and offered a hand to help him at the steps.

To Rose it mattered less what came of the tree in the end, whether the apples were good for eating, or for cider, or if it bore nothing at all; she was at this moment giving thanks to the Almighty for one seed that had already borne fruit. 

[adragonsdance]

Does anyone else ever think about how WC!Scott canonically brought Mertha back to life and there was a bit of hand waving like “Eeuuhh she was a goat that’s not to difficult” but really she was a human soul trapped in a goat’s body, so Scott could bring back a human soul by like, the middle of the trials, so he might have already been powerful enough to bring back Milo by that point or soon after, without having to go full Lich and do all the horrible things that ritual entails, but by that point he had convinced himself so thoroughly that the only way to achieve his goal was by becoming the Supreme Witch that it didn’t even cross his mind to try?

[triglycercule]

can the mtt commit more crimes that just murder please i know theyre the MURDER time trio but ppppleasse,,,, please,,,,,,

they'd be terrible to be next to on the highway. horror's going 160 mph amd has long past gone over the speed limit. dust's out for BLOOD and by blood i mean your tires. he's somehow sniping those round rubber wheels from the high moving vehicle with the precision of a master fruit ninja player. if your car explodes or flips over in the process that's not his fault. and then to make matters worse for everyone on the highway killer's in the backseat scratching up the doors and windows of your car with a knife everytime horror gets close to another car and oops he accidentally just disfigured your face also did i mention theyre all drunk during this

ok so theyve all got the classic face WHY DONT THEY ABUSE IT!!!! horror gets to do a little paper mache to cover up his head hole and then wearing glasses. killer i dont know what the FUCK he can do to get rid of his perpetual tears but let's just pretend that theyre conveniently gone for now. and then all dust has to do is put down his hood! anyways identity theft is cool. imagine how much they could totally fuck up classic's reputation with this. set up fake tinder profiles and then scam people for their credit card info/free dates (while ordering every expensive thing) and stealing wallets. walking into various grillby's's around the multiverse and telling terrible jokes. like ACTUALLY bad jokes. and then of course just being a huge piece of shit at the bar. god theres so many things they could do pretending to be classic. which one of us is hikaru looking ahh except the only difference between the three is the color of the stains on their clothes (either gray (dust) black (killer) or red. well faded red (horror))

ROBBERY!!!! ROBBERIES PLURAL!!!??? train robbery gas station robbery bank robbery GOVERNMENT robbery (what would you rob the government for?? documents??? idk) anyways. mtt robbing a train except its just a really shitty plan and they dont know jackshit about what theyre doing. killer's taken over the conductor's cabin and now he is booking it. how fast are trains allowed to go idk but the maximum. anyways meanwhile horror's on the tracks fucking up the rails with his strength or whatever (listen i know he's weak but picking and choosing what hcs i believe in is my art) and dust is there to teleport him away before the train crashes into him and turns him into a trolley problem victim. and then of course that shit doesnt fucking work and the train just ends up flipping over and catching on fire or something (killer survives because of course he does he's killer). and then in the end dust just has to flip the entire train over and they just stroll into the part that actually HAS the money

and then they go out and get ice cream. sometimes the murderers need to take a break from murdering and just do NORMAL crime yk???

[mishy-mashy]

Bruce is actually really attractive, and I have enough reasoning to make a list

He's:

Tall (. Tall enough to hit his head on the vault doorframe)

Long-legged

Has a straight nose bridge

Has high cheekbones (more noticeable in 2nd pic below)

Has a strong jawline

Sharp eyes, but they aren't small (plus eyebags if you're into that)

Overall, he has strong, attractive facial features

Has broad, refined shoulders. You can tell he works out (or he did, when he was alive)

Even has a thick, muscly neck

He has MUSCLE. Is SCULPTED. NOICE. VERY NOICE. (nice arms. Nice shoulders. Nice neck. Nice legs. Nice butt-)

(There are actually panels where you can see some of his muscles. Other than those already shown here, he's got bricky thighs-

-and in the panels where we first get his name dropped, he's got those shoulder blades too-)

The one time we see him smile, and he actually has a scary one

Has small, kinda sharp pupils, and his eyes remind me of a cat. We only ever saw him tense or defensive, so his resting/listening face is really cute

Other than the physical appearance stuff, he also:

Takes shit without batting an eye (patience, knowing it's just how Kudo is, etc)

Kudo being all "Cut the crap Bruce and give it to me straight", after Bruce tests his blood and is rightfully Concerned because they just faced AFO

Put up with Kudo's experimenting and testing over Yoichi's transferable Factor

Did ya'll see the look on Kudo's face when he realized he had Yoichi's Factor/will? Kudo was going to start in nonsense and Bruce just dealt with that.

Also something I noticed when looking back at the images here; Bruce has bandages on his arms in the void. But not when he faced AFO in the sewers.

Were he and Kudo cutting their arms open in their experimenting over Yoichi's theory? Is this why Kudo has two gauntlets instead of his one? Why we never see his bare arms in the void? That he always keeps his arms down so there's no slip?

Is smart enough to run blood tests, plus has enough common sense to pick Shinomori as his successor

He picked a guy who avoids society, has an Ability to detect danger so he can always stay away from AFO, is also a coward so he's never going to go throw himself into danger, even without knowing instinctively he stands no chance, etc.

Meanwhile, Kudo chose Bruce, who he played Hot Potato Yoichi with; but he did also trust Bruce, and put the only pure combative Ability in OFA through Bruce.

These two made their choices based on what they valued and saw the Factor needed.

Is logical, analytical, and calm.

He tried advising Midoriya on their Abilities in One For All, especially his own.

Midoriya then tried ignoring him about using Fa Jin for the first time, but found he was right, thinking: "Dammit!! I had [Lady Nagant] right where I wanted her, but... ugh! The Third was right. My parallel Quirk processes are all screwed up!" (ch. 314).

Plus, when Midoriya fixed his processing mistakes, Bruce was analyzing the way he reached his new conclusion. Pure facts, no bias, very calm, just saying it as it was.

We never see him panic. When he's caught by surprise in the sewers by AFO, Kudo, and Yoichi's little bubble event, he immediately reacts. He doesn't falter, he just knows he has to do something right now.

Was more willing to listen than Kudo to Yoichi's beckon, and probably was just following Kudo's rejection of Midoriya

While we don't see Kudo's face, we see Bruce's eyes when Yoichi calls on his heroes. Bruce was more open and receptive, or at least more impacted.

Bruce was also the one to start talking, while Kudo just kept quiet.

He actually communicates a lot

When Yoichi called them to support Midoriya, Bruce started talking to paint a picture of why they thought the way they did, so Yoichi understood where they were coming from.

(Though he seems to beat about the bush sometimes, since Kudo spoke up to be direct on how they couldn't just put their trust in some starry-eyed teenager. Plus, when Kudo tells him to just tell him what's wrong [double Factors])

When Midoriya first used Fa Jin against Nagant, Bruce came out just to tell him he knew what he was trying, but that Midoriya wasn't ready; and Midoriya found he was right. Midoriya just didn't want to listen to him then.

He asks Kudo for clarification after finding Kudo had two Factors in him after the sewer incident ("Just to be sure, All For One didn't touch you, right?") Kudo knew him well enough to go "stop beating around the bush and tell me", so Bruce was probably gonna start with questions, theories, and trying to understand everything in general, before saying "yeah you have two Factors. Don't know why".

Is strong-willed and loyal.

He followed Kudo, even to death, carrying on the cause he started until it ended with him.

Plus, when talking about how AFO needs a strong will to override OFA's own, we first see Bruce, Kudo, and Yoichi.

AFO couldn't steal OFA because the will was too strong for him, and that was back during Banjo's time. Since Shinomori never actually tried opposing AFO and just hid, we can assume the first Three (Yoichi, Kudo, Bruce) already had an accumulation of strong willpower that made OFA un-stealable. Those three are a strong enough foundation, and the main wills, that the other users just become bonuses.

Kudo, also saying that Midoriya needs allies with the same will and drive as him... hey Kudo, you're talking about yourself and your old allies, aren't you? That's why you look at Yoichi and Bruce when you say this.

Not only is Bruce attractive, but he's got good character. THE END.

[double--cross-d]

I DON'T THINK WE TALK ENOUGH ABOUT HOW SUPERFLY ACTIVELY SPEEDS UP TO PLOW INTO THE VAN WHILE HE CAN CLEARLY SEE MONDO CLINGING TO THE BACK.

HE CLEARLY DIDN'T CARE THAT THEY WERE RIGHT THERE EVEN THOUGH HE COULD'VE SERIOUSLY INJURED OR KILLED THEM IF THEY HADN'T NOTICED OR GOT AWAY FAST ENOUGH.

[mymarifae]

also veritas and i are on a first name basis now partially because his last name is fucking stupid and i hate calling him "ratio" but mostly because after poking at his character a bunch i've decided i like him quite a lot LMFAO

[dailyeca]

the henry stickmin to eca orichird pipeline