#cause ive spent a lot of time and thought with this subject. so. i think its only fitting since im forcibly and suddenly removing it

[3nderstar]

.

[qqueenofhades]

Hi, I hope this isnt annoying to ask but w the old guard ive seen a lot of people mixing up catholic and christian when it comes to nicky. when by todays standards theyre not interchangeable as catholic is a specific strain of christianity. i was kinda under the impression the crusades were a purely catholic thing since the pope. is that right or were other christians involved??

Hmm. Just to be clear what you’re asking, are you wondering whether it’s a mistake to use “Catholic” and “Christian” interchangeably when talking about this time period or describing Nicky’s faith? And/or asking for a basic religious primer on medieval Europe and the crusades more generally?

First, it’s not a mistake to use “Catholic” and “Christian” as synonyms during the crusades, especially since a) Catholics are Christians, no matter what the militant Protestant reformers would like you to think, and b) until said Protestant reformation, they were the dominant and almost (but not quite) singular Christian denomination in Western Europe. Our source material for the period doesn’t describe the crusaders as “Catholics,” even if they were; they call them Christians or Franks. (Likewise, the word “Frank,” i.e. “French” was often used to describe Western European crusaders no matter which country they were from, since so many crusaders came from France and that was where the crusades were originally launched, at the council of Clermont in 1095.) To call them “Christians” points us to the fact that the crusades were viewed as a great pan-Christian enterprise, even if the reality was more complicated, and nobody would need to specify “Catholic,” because that was implicit.

In short, medieval Europe had two major strands of Christianity, which developed out of the centuries of arguments over heresy, the contents of the biblical canon, the nature and/or divinity of Christ, their relationship to Judaism, paganism, and other religions of late antiquity, and so forth. Eventually these two competing branches took on geographical, cultural, and linguistic associations: Western (Latin) Catholic Christianity, and Eastern (Greek) Orthodox Christianity. The Great Schism in 1054 split these two rites formally apart, though both of them had at least some thought that the internal divisions in Christianity should be healed and dialogue has continued intermittently even up to the present day (though they’re still not actually reconciled and this seems highly unlikely to ever happen.)

The head of Western Catholic Christianity was (and is) the Pope of Rome, and the head of Eastern Orthodox Christianity was (and is) the Patriarch of Constantinople. Both of these branches of Christianity were involved in launching the crusades. To make a long story short, the Byzantine (Greek) Emperor, Alexios Komnenos, appealed to the Catholic (Latin) pope, Urban II, for help in defending the rights of eastern Christians, territorial incursions against Greek possessions by the Muslims of the Holy Land and North Africa, and the city of Constantinople (and Jerusalem) itself. So although the actual French and Western European participants in the crusades were Catholic, they (originally, at least) joined up with the intention of helping out their Orthodox brethren in the East and “liberating” Jerusalem from the so-called tyranny of Islam. To this end, the accounts of the council of Clermont focused heavily on the brotherhood of western and eastern Christians and the alleged terrible treatment of these Christians by the ruling Islamic caliphate in Jerusalem. At that time, that was the Isma’ili Shia Muslim Fatimids (who had replaced the Sunni Muslim Abbasids in the early 10th century -- there are many names and many dynasties, but yes.)

However, despite this ecumenical start, relations between Western and Eastern Christians started to go bad very quickly over the course of the crusades, indeed within a few short years of Clermont. Alexios Komnenos wanted the crusade leaders to swear loyalty to him and pledge to return formerly Byzantine lands that might be recaptured from the Muslims, and the crusade leaders did not want to do this. There were deep cultural, linguistic, religious, social, and political differences between Greek and Latin Christians, even if they were both technically Christians, and these caused the obvious problems. The Greeks were obviously located in a different part of the world and had a different relationship with their Islamic neighbors (they fought them often, but also traded with them and established diplomatic ties) and this caused constant friction during the crusades, since the Westerners always suspected (not entirely wrongly) that the Greeks were secretly in league with the Turks. Albert of Aachen, writing his Historia Ierosolimitana in the early 12th century, referred to “wicked Christians, that is to say Greeks,” and our primary source for the Second Crusade (1145--49) is Odo of Deuil and his De profectione Ludovici VII in Orientem (Journey of Louis VII to the East.) He spent the entire time grousing about “treacherous Greeks” and blaming them for the crusade’s struggles (though the Second Crusade pretty much sabotaged itself and didn’t need any outside force to blame for its failure). There was some truth to this accusation, since Byzantium was then engaged in a war against Sicily (Louis VII’s ally, though it had its own connections to Muslim culture and indeed had been Muslim before the Normans conquered it in 1061). The Greeks had thus been working with the Muslims to undercut the invasion of Western Europeans into this contested territory, and this was not forgotten or forgiven.

The best-known example of Western-Eastern relations during the crusades going catastrophically awry is in 1204, at the sack of Constantinople as the culmination of the Fourth Crusade. Basically: the crusaders were deeply in debt to the Venetians and had already attacked the Catholic city of Zara (Zadar in Croatia) in hopes of getting some money back, then got involved in the messy politics of the Byzantine succession, went to Constantinople, and eventually outright attacked it, sacked and destroyed the city, and raped and slaughtered its inhabitants. This obviously poisoned the well all but permanently between Latin and Greek Christians (frankly, in my opinion, it’s one of the worst tragedies of history) and Constantinople never regained its former wealth and pre-eminence. It declined until it was captured in 1453 by the Ottoman Turks and Sultan Mehmed II, and has been an Islamic city ever since. (It was renamed Istanbul in 1923, under Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the “founding father” of modern Turkey.) Obviously, Latin and Greek Christianity still had to work with each other somehow, but the crusades were actually the single biggest factor in driving the two branches further apart, rather than reconciling them.

The words “catholic” and “orthodox” both have connotations of universality, overall correctness, and all-encompassing truth claims. Therefore, in some sense, to a Catholic Christian or an Orthodox Christian, defining themselves as such, with both words, is repetitious; they are Catholic/Orthodox and therefore the correct sort of Christian (even if their theological opponents would disagree). However, historians obviously do use that convention to distinguish them, since the identity is important, and makes a big difference as to what religious landscape an individual is living in. As for heresy, it was an equally complicated subject. Numerous “heretical” (i.e. not mainstream Catholic Christianity) Christian sects existed in Europe for this entire period, most notably the Cathars. (They got their own crusade launched against them, the Albigensian Crusade of 1209--29 in southern France.) The lines between heresy and orthodoxy (small-o orthodoxy meaning in this case, confusingly, Catholic Christianity) could often be blurred, and religious practices were syncretic and constantly influenced each other. A big problem in the Albigensian Crusade was identifying who the heretics actually were; they looked like their Catholic neighbors, they lived in community with them, their friends and family members were Cathar and Catholic alike, both rites were practiced, and plenty of towns were just fine with this hybrid arrangement. Hence it was not as simple as just pointing and going “get those guys,” and indeed, one of the leaders of the Albigensian Crusade, when asked by a knight how to tell them apart, advocated to just kill them all and God would know who the good Catholics were. Welp.

Northern and eastern Europe also remained pagan relatively late into the medieval era (into the 10th and 11th centuries) and the Northern and Baltic Crusades were launched with the aim of converting them to Catholic Christianity. (You will notice that the crusades have a complicated history as both a vehicle of religious warfare and as an attempted theater of conversion.) Heresy was a constant preoccupation of the Catholic popes, especially Innocent III (the progenitor of the Fourth, Albigensian, and Fifth Crusades). Especially in the thirteenth century, splinter religious groups and localized sects of “heresy” were popping up like crazy, and it was a constant point of contention as to how to deal with them, i.e. by force, persuasion, reconciliation, dialogue, etc. No, the medieval Catholic church was not the stereotyped instrument of fear, oppression, and tyranny, and could never enforce its views universally on all of western Europe. Church attendance on the parish level could be so low that in 1215 at the Fourth Lateran Council, Innocent issued an order requiring Christians to take communion at least once a year. So yes. The standard was very far from “everyone believed Catholicism fervently at all times and if they didn’t, they were immediately punished/burned alive.” The idea of burning heretics at the stake wasn’t even introduced until the early fifteenth century, and even then, it required an often-months-long formal church trial and wasn’t just something that the local village priest could hand out on a whim.

There were also monastic orders, and these (at least in Western Europe) were therefore Catholic, but they had different ways of practicing it and what their orders emphasized. The most common order were Benedictines (founded in the 6th century by Saint Benedict), who adhered to the Rule of Saint Benedict, which is still the basis for the following monastic orders. There were also the Cluniacs (founded in 10th-century France at Cluny Abbey) and the Cistercians (founded as rivals to the Cluniacs at the end of the 11th century, also in France). In terms of the crusades, the Cistercians were by far the most involved with/zealously supportive of them (Bernard of Clairvaux was a Cistercian) and took part in directly financing, preaching, and launching the Second, Fourth, and Albigensian Crusades alike. The better-known monastic orders, the Franciscans and Dominicans, weren’t founded until the thirteenth century, on the tail end of the crusades, and didn’t take much direct part in them. The Dominican inquisition, however, took over the business of dealing with the Cathars after the Albigensian Crusade petered out, and their concern was often with heresy thereafter.

Anyway. This has gotten long, as per usual. But I hope this gives you some introductory sense of the religious landscape of medieval Europe, the divisions within Christianity, and the fact that it’s entirely accurate to use “Catholic” and “Christian” interchangeably when discussing Nicky’s crusades-era faith and counterparts. The crusaders themselves did not specify themselves as being Catholic, and the crusades were (at least initially) viewed as a pan-Christian movement, even if eventually fatal tensions with Orthodox Christians left a permanent scar. The idea of identifying the precise denomination of Christianity is also another Protestant Reformation-era innovation, and wasn’t, at least in this case, necessary to do.

[tigerdrop]

hey i just wanna say the long posts genuinely make my day. also can you talk more about gordon freeman character because the way you write him makes me quake in my gay little boots

i would love to talk about gordon freeman. thank u for the opportunity

the first thing i need to communicate about gordon is that this dude sucks. and i say this in the fondest way possible. he is a bitch from the moment he drops into the world until the moment he goes out. if you dont believe me, give it another watch! gordons mouthy and rude for no real reason, at least so far as “being a regular dude on his way into work” goes, and this dude goes around calling his coworkers names with zero provocation. (of course, we all know that the reason is because its a funny guy improv stream that borrows a bit from freemans mind, but im talkin from a character sense.)

but my argument isnt just that gordon freeman sucks. its that he sucks in a very specific way that i find insanely endearing. i love this dude. i love to hate him. hes awful in a very mundane sense - weve all known a guy like this, at least if youve spent too much time online - and its cathartic to watch him suffer because of it.

gordons a smart guy. as written, hes gotta be - hes a recent MIT grad, on his way to work at a top-secret research facility to do weird shit with crystals and theoretical physics. but the thing about smart guys is that theyre often......selectively intelligent. we can see this in the way that he has a hard time navigating his surroundings, and needs the science crew to guide him through it and keep him alive.

this is one of those things that is a natural consequence of somebody going through the game for the first time, but that i am interpreting as “gordon is kind of stupid sometimes”. its uncharitable but its not like he doesnt deserve it. he likes to boss around the crew as if he knows what hes doing, when he often very much does not, and is fond of demeaning their intelligence. hes real bad about this with tommy in particular, treating him like hes a kid whos playing at being a scientist when tommy is actually a decade older than him. all i am saying is that gordon ought to stay humble. hes awful cocky when he perceives himself as better than others.

which, i think, tracks with how cocky he gets when he gives up on the whole “well-meaning citizen” thing and just unloads bullets into people. he puts up a front of being a Nice Guy, you know, just some dude caught in a bad situation who doesnt like seeing his companions obliterate every NPC they come across, but that doesnt stop him from cackling like a fucking madman and mowing down aliens (and soldiers) every once in awhile. when he stops seeing himself as helpless and starts seeing himself as the one in control, the gloves come off. he gets mean. and i think thats very sexy of him

this, among other things, is why i am insistent that gordon freeman is a control freak. he desperately wants to be in control of the situation at all times, shepherding around the science crew primarily by bitching at them, but its of limited success. its futile. sisyphean. tommy, coomer, bubby, and benrey exist almost to torment him with exactly the thing that would make him suffer the most: a gaggle of people running around causing problems for him, but he cant go anywhere without them b/c hes reliant on them to make it out alive.

its perpetual suffering, and its cathartic to watch. and funny, too. and if youre a little weirdo like me, its very, very enjoyable. how twisted up he gets when nobodys listening to him! how sweaty and frazzled he must look. its cute, and it also makes me want to reach through the screen and shake him and tell him to just be a little nicer. he wants control but he doesnt know how to attain it, he doesnt know how to play nice like a real leader. i think its a neat contrast to gordon freeman as we know him in HL2, where he literally is the leader of the resistance and has to live up to it. this is gordon freeman but if he was moe through helplessness.

“helpless” is, i think, a great way to describe him. a core bit of imagery in half life is this sense of railroadedness and helplessness, with gordon freeman being put into play like a chess piece and having no choice but to move forward. and this iteration of gordon leans into that by being totally dependent on the science crew in order to make progress and Not Die. and hes also subject to the whims of benrey, local eldritch weirdo who has basically made it his life mission to fuck with gordon.

gordons anxieties dont help with that. if he wasnt so fun to stress out and fuck with, the science crew probably wouldnt do it so much! too bad for him that they like fucking with him so much that he was driven into a panic attack (multiple times, even, depending on your interpretation). hes got that real neurotic mindset. always worrying about shit that could go wrong, and attempting to exert control over his surroundings in an effort to control the anxiety.

IMO the real way to nail the Neurotic Gordon Freeman Experience is to combine the ever-present anxiety with his pervasive sense of self-loathing. he openly states that he has no friends and nobody seems to like him, and to that, i really gotta say, i wonder why. he doesnt really seem to factor in that hes kind of a bitch, and has way too high an estimation of his own intelligence relative to everybody elses. its really one of the worst ways to be: aware that people dont like you, but unaware of exactly why. if he was like, 10% nicer, he probably wouldnt have had half as many issues getting through black mesa, but also, its funny to see him squawking his way through the game. so, you know.

its stuff like that that makes me headcanon him as a dude with low self-esteem in general. convinced that hes not likable, not attractive, out of his element......impostor syndrome, except that theres some truth to it. this is a guy who truly does not realize how good he has it: he really is just an average shitty dude, and yet, somehow, benrey took a shine to him. some poor motherfucker out there actually likes him and wants to suck his dick. thats dedication

also, i keep bringing up “repression” when i talk about gordon. and hopefully, what ive been talking about helps explain why. he has a strong desire to be a regular dude, not just murdering his way through black mesa, but if hes pushed hard enough he leans into it. gets bossy. picks up a cigar off a dead soldier and takes a long drag, before smacking forzen around with a pistol and ordering him around. gordon freeman is a regular, kind of anxious guy who likes competitive swimming and streaming on justin.tv and making anime references, and he is also a guy who takes a filthy pleasure in making a trained soldier his bitch. and i didnt make up any of this shit - this is purestrain canon, baby. this is a guy with problems

to me, this screams the kind of guy who represses a lot of shit b/c he doesnt feel like its morally decent. you run into this guy a lot online: the wokeboy, the online leftist, the guy who spends too much time on social media websites. (like reddit. i think he would actively use reddit and he would never get any appreciable amount of karma but he never stops posting. its sisyphean! cathartic.) from the way he talks about “bootboys”, i think it tracks. he knows about imperialism, he knows about feminism, but at the end of the day hes your average american white dude who struggles with internalizing it.

a lot of those dudes struggle with sex and gender issues. (dont we all.) when youre trying to be a Good Person(tm), you spend a lot of time thinking about your own relationship to sex and kink and all that shit. and i maintain that a too-online dude who buries a lot of his control freak tendencies would also try to bury a lot of weird sexual shit in an attempt to seem Normal and Well-Adjusted and not like a little freak. i justify this by the sheer number of times gordon blurts out weird sex shit as a joke. there are only two outcomes to making that many piss jokes: either youre secretly a piss guy, or you lathe-of-heaven yourself into becoming one. i will stand by this

ive talked a lot about why this dude sucks. now, let me talk to you about what makes gordon so much fun to write. first things first: hes funny! a subjective evaluation, yeah, but both in- and out-of-character, hes aiming to be funny. and being the straight man to everybody else plays into that whole “helplessness” thing.

secondly: underneath it all, there is a good dude under there. gordon worries when his companions get hurt, he tries to clean them off and patch them up, and hes got his lil leftist heart in the right place. you could even read a lot of his bossy, bitchy demeanor as him wanting to make sure everyone gets out okay and doesnt hurt themselves. when it comes to animals and anti-imperialist sentiment, gordons a pretty good guy.

hes the kind of guy who would probably see a dog on the street and get excited and play with it, but would get really prickly about the correct way to put dishes in the dishwasher. control freak tendencies.

finally, subjecting such a miserable, tormented guy to even more psychological anguish is really, really fun. you feel a little bad for him, but he kind of deserves it. so many problems he goes through are purely of his own making, and if gordon would just relax and quit trying to hard to maintain control - of himself, of the people around him - and own up to having Problems and Issues, he would be a happier guy. but thats why its fun to bend him until he breaks. being a little control freak myself, putting gordon freeman thru psychosexual torment is cathartic.

when it comes to writing his thought processes, the fact that he is canonically some kind of psychotic (yes, i am boldly claiming this. suck me) and i am also canonically some kind of psychotic makes it easier to write what i think his thought processes are. i just give him my brain issues of “getting lost in thought” and “overthinking fucking everything”. a touch of paranoia helps. even if i dont explicitly label him as schizophrenic please know that i am writing him as a paranoid little nutcase at all times because, uh, you write what you know.

paranoid. anxious. of the mindset that everyones out to get him (which isnt helpful when everyone is out to get him). repressed and deeply Not Normal but trying so very fucking hard to be normal and well-adjusted. a control freak with sadistic tendencies who also really, really likes getting bullied by his best frenemy. a hapless little nerd who sounds really cute when his voice starts to break from nerves. and, most importantly, a dumb jock. do not ever forget this.

thats gordon freeman, babey. hope that helps

[wisteria-lodge]

a burnt / exploded badger primary + badger secondary model

Hi! Ive been looking at this amazing sorting concept for a while now, but every time i try to sort myself i get stuck. I think im either a burnt snake primary that models lion or a burnt lion primary that models snake, but im unsure about which one. 

All right, let’s see what you’ve got.

I was pretty involved in a student club and took up bartending duty, which i really liked because it was a place to have casual social interaction with people without going to the trouble of figuring out how to be friends (which i am Bad at since i can remember, ive like 3 friends and i try to talk to them monthly but more feels exhausting). But a side effect of being a bartender is that drunk people share their entire life story and trauma with you which i quite enjoy once in a while, its quite flattering if people trust you enough to talk to you about personal things and its interesting to learn more about how they work as a person.

So you’re telling me you have a Badger secondary, or at least a Badger secondary model. And three good friends who you check in with monthly doesn’t sound like such a bad set up? If that’s what you want/need, you’re good in my book. But there’s definitely some kind of angst surrounding “making friends” which seems like an outside influence. I’m keeping an eye on that as I read.

 But if it happens a lot when you sleep way less than you should it quickly becomes exhausting. 

Okay. Lack of self-care. Particularly of the “overworked” variety. That is something that Badger primaries usually really struggle with. You might want to take a look at Exploded Badger Primary, honestly.

I once had a breakdown over that i knew too many suffering people and that i couldnt help them all.

This is either the breakdown of a Badger primary, or a really really really Badger-flavored Lion. (and probably we’re still talking Badger).

I sometimes got angry at people who dumped all their trauma and fears on me but didn't once asked me about how I was feeling, or if they did and I answered with "bad" they quickly changed the subject. 

Oh. Problems with boundaries. That’s one of the traits that Badger primaries and secondaries tend to share. 

Not sure if that one is more about me having Bad Friends or me seeing friendship as a transactional thing 

This makes me think that your Badger secondary might be a model

I know seeing friendship as transactional is a Bad Immoral thing and I'm trying not to see it as such.

It’s interesting that you frame this in such right/wrong, Lion-y language. But this idea “viewing friendships as being a means to an end is fundamentally immoral” - that’s much more of a Badger primary thing than a Lion primary thing.

but these friendships were imbalanced which did not feel fair to me.

If Lions value authenticity and Snakes value freedom, Badgers value fairness. (I’m still trying to figure out that *one* thing Birds value.)

Another thing is that i never cared much for family. I was raised with a "friends are temporary, family is forever" mindset, which I did not quite vibe with. I hung out with my sisters all the time, but I'm not sure if that was out of choice or out of necessity, if other people just didnt Get me the same way they did or if I thought so and therefore didnt try to make other friends. 

You’ve got a slightly insular, very Snake primary family culture - but you yourself don’t seem to have a single Snake bone in your entire body.

It's probably me acting out against my parents way after puberty (where I did not act out, since I knew acting out was what the Wrong kind of people did and I was Better than that). 

Here’s that moralistic language again. This instinct “to not act out” really does seem like it’s coming from you and not your parents. And I this idea of “the wrong kind of people” is really Badger. Badger primaries are so interested in community, which makes them especially likely to categorize like that. 

after i moved out that I joined the student association, to show that friends did exist and being in large groups of non family people could be a good thing.

‘After I moved out I joined a large community, to show my Snake primary family that this is a legitimate way to exist.’ Badger.

In family gatherings, me and my sisters were always seen as "the kids" and people never treated us as full conversation partners. (Its getting better, but we've been Full Grown Adults for a while now and are all living by ourselves now, that should have happened way sooner). I never minded that much tho, I was fine by playing with my baby cousins and participating in the performative steps of small talk until visits were over.

I’m thinking that this badger secondary is definitely an unhealthy model. 

Then there are my thoughts about the question "what would you do if you realized everything you thought and believed was wrong". A while ago, there was a huge argument in my friend group from the student association and it fell apart. At the same time, a situation happened in my family which caused me to not exactly break completely with them, since I am trying to fix it out of a sense of obligation, but it almost happened. 

Oh my, a stressed out Badger. This is a situation that would hit a Badger primary really, really, really hard.

This started me believing that a large group of people which are yours, or a goal/cause you chose for yourself, is wrong because people will let you down and abandon you. 

This is so Burnt Badger. 

people will abandon you if your actions are wrong enough, or try to force you to change your decisions if they disagree with them enough

Just a guess, but I think you’ve been dealing with some Lion primaries. This is the kind of thing that a really intense Lion would do.

people will abandon you as soon as you are not longer useful to them, and dont want to play the desired role they expect you to anymore. 

 Oh no. We’ve got some more Exploded Badger right here. ‘My worth is my usefulness’ 

I only started to think about "who am I?" And "what do I want?" At university, where I made a few decisions (which I do not regret a bit) which made me sleep way less than I should which caused me to stop reflecting and thinking about myself, and then the Incident happened. 

There’s an aspect of both the Badger primary and the Badger secondary which functions like a mirror. It’s so powerful, but if you’re not careful you can lose yourself. It sounds like you’re on the right track though, it really does. 

after which I spent all my time and energy trying to Fix it, and now that I realize that I can't I am so far away from who I am as a person that the easiest way to exist is to shape myself in whatever form is desired. 

That’s the Badger secondary (or the badger secondary model) talking. I’m a Badger secondary, and I modeled Badger primary for a long time. I’ve spent so much time trying to Fix It. But you can’t. You can’t fix other people. They have to fix themselves. 

But I'm not sure if the code switching I do is who I am that has revealed itself by me having nothing left, or a coping mechanism I picked up to stop people from getting disappointed by me while figuring out who I really am. 

That settles it. You definitely have a badger secondary model. And there’s something else is under there. 

[summoner-kentauris]

What does your interpretation of Zacharias think about Líf and Thrasir? (You can either just answer or write a lil story if you feel like it)

OOOO now i have thought in my free time a fair amount about what líf thinks of zasha but, and i cannot believe this, i have not thought about what zacharias thinks about líf and thrasir. full disclosure, book III happened to be going on when i formally stopped playing feh. i kept up with the story after that but, theres my obligatory knowledge base disclaimer.

also minor cws through this whole thing because i talk here and there about zacharias and his... mm, canonical relationship to death/selfharm

-

so, i spent a lot of time thinking about this one, and i keep coming back to my gut reaction, which is that i don't think zacharias would like them very much. i dont know why i think that, though.

PART ONE

i think a lot of it would depend on how they approach him, which is maybe why i've spent more time thinking about the reverse of this ask, come to think of it. see, i think zacharias could go any which way in terms of what he thinks of them. i think he could hate them, as two people who killed versions of everyone he ever loved, including metaphorically killing off the two people closest to him.

i think he could love him, having seen the hell (ha ha literally) that they went through. understanding what that feels like. given the way he talks about his suicide attempts, and honestly that he spent most of book I trying to get people to kill him, really his whole relationship to death. i mean the man talks a lot about death and killing. he might not be the feh OC who best understands how manipulative and... whats a good word. alluring? what im trying to say is that besides eir, he might be the one most likely to understand why Hel and hel's offer appealed to líf and thrasir. i feel like this bit has a place here: "With his dying breath...he begged for his life. He called out your names! "I'll do anything you ask! Just let me live!" excepting of course that i still am not sure if i think he said/thought that or not. ive never been sure who really is in control of speaking right then and there. Anyway. Probably he could come to understand Líf and Thrasir's stance, enough that he could care about them the same ways he cares about his versions of Alfonse ann Veronica

on the other hand, i can see him being fully horrified by the choices those two made in response. this bit: Not anyone... This dark god...seeks death. And it cries for the destruction of Askr. Like. Líf and Thrasir are intentionally enacting the same thing as the dark god's desires, in order to correct a mistake they made that, uh, also enacted the same thing as dark god's desires. talk about awkward. and i think Zasha, who has lived with this nightmare in his head for so long, might recoil from people who are so directly aligned with it. who wants to be around someone who has become, who has chosen to become, everything you ever feared you'd be? especially when you're nearly drowning from the effort of fighting to stop yourself.

i could also see him meeting them and it being incredibly, incredibly bad for him. i feel like, he puts a whole lot of... mm. what am i trying to say.here:

Yet it is you that says this, dear friend, and so I must consider it. I see the faith reflected in your eyes. Perhaps it is possible...

SPEAKING OF BUNNY ZACHARIAS I ALSO THINK YOU COULD TAKE THE FOLLOWING:

You never change. All you see is a lofty goal, even if you lack the means to achieve it... The idea that gods would fall by the hand of man is a fantasy... and a preposterous one. This is a goal that even our ancestors Líf and Thrasir could not achieve.

setting aside the obligatory wtf zash i know you know your lore (fuck, maybe there is no killing the gods, maybe all Fire Emblem victories are temporary at best and Zenith is the only one who knows it. but i think, probably not), i think you could spin a very believable scenario where zacharias takes one look at these two ambitious, arrogant posers and absolutely refuses to speak to them any further.

so, part one, i think that zacharias could think any number of things about líf and thrasir. which i suppose means that i think he's fairly neutral on the subject of líf and thrasir. makes sense to me, i suppose. i feel like zacharias | bruno has practice (regardless of whether he's any good at it or not, or whether its any good for him) at holding and maintaining separate personas, so I don't think the fact that líf and thrasir were alfonse and veronica would necessarily be all that important to him.

which brings me to part ii

what happened to dead zenith zacharias

if zacharias is neutral on the subject, I think a lot of their relationship is going to pushed in one direction or another by líf and thrasir themselves.

and, complicating matters (when do I make things simple?), i think their approach to zacharias would of course depend on what happened to their zacharias. correct me if im wrong, but i dont think we have even a hint what happened to him.

there are three ish options I'm seeing. one: as dead world zenith is further along in its timeline and as zacharias claims he's almost out of time with his curse, other zacharias died due to that before the war with hel. i feel like scenario one is the most likely to lead to a good relationship between main zacharias and líf and thrasir.

two: mr. professional "knows plot relevant things out of knowhere" was the one who found out about angrboða's heart in the first place. especially given "As destruction took hold, we joined with Embla to seek the forbidden heart...", which to me sounds a lot like, "hel was kicking our ass then zacharias showed up and said we should go get this mystical plot object from embla". thrasir even says she and líf weren't allies before the world went to shit. anyway. hear me out here:

Yes. The heart is sealed within an Emblian blood temple. If that seal is broken, someone will die each time the heart beats... Those who perform the rite are the first to die.

Now. Líf claims he was the one who broke it open, but he also was present for the war that followed and only after was he killed and inducted into hel's army. so. both of those things can't be true. i propose that the magic mcguffin located in a sealed emblian blood temple was unlocked by our dear zacharias and thats what killed him in other zenith. i think its possible that other veronica was the one who did it, but you know. its all imagination at this point. also, and i forgot this, but thrasir does go off about how she can't lose until she saves her brother, so. something especially tragic happened at least. and oh boy is scenario two a nice fresh tasty tragedy. so that's scenario two. other zacharias directly died as a result of attempts to fight hel

number three thing that could have happened to zach is boring. he's always off doing things, he could have just died off screen. i mean. everyone did, eventually.

frankly he could still be alive for all i know. the heart appears to take the lives of people in the world, not of the world, or else the summoner would have been fine. so, if zacharias was on one of his off world jaunts, he could conceivably be a-okay. well. as okay as someone who's whole world died. i don't think that's what happened, because thrasir is pretty clear about feeling that she failed him, but yknow.

líf and thrasir's reactions to the above

thrasir is i think the most straightforward. i can't really see her approaching main zacharias with anything but positive intent. even if she's only a little bit open, i think thrasir and zacharias will probably have a decently tolerable relationship. if zacharias can come back to a country that exiled him as a kid and let his mother die in a dungeon and then go on to not just befriend but protect and care for a half sister he didnt know before then, then i think he'll find a way to care about thrasir. you know, intsys could have had fun making another perpetual older brother character. as i understand it, xander gets brother'd a lot, he and zach could have talked. could have been fun. a whole, zacharias, a historically traumatized child: *arrives in a world* every currently traumatized kid in a five mile radius: oh shit this one's ours now. you know what im saying? found family except zacharias would very much like it to stop finding him. he's got important brooding to do. but anway, they didn't go that route and its a tragedy.

líf is... more complicated. i think scenario one creates the most positive outlook. i can see him still having guilt over zacharias' loss, but i think any of it would be overshadowed by everything else that happened. in this scenario, líf finally gets back a piece of the world he'd lost. yeah, it's not his zacharias, but still. it is a zacharias, who is living and breathing and frowning and asking why you are staring at me, knight. i think the two of them could get along rather well, although i see them having significant issues with pessimism. inch-restingly enough... the dark curse bades its hosts to kill askrans. and líf is, well. dead. so... perhaps... perhaps líf wouldn't trigger the curse like alfonse does. in that case, not only does líf get someone back he thought he'd never see again, but so does zacharias.

scenario two is just a nightmare. frankly, i initially thought this scenario would lead to líf just ignoring zacharias (out of guilt, pain, etc), but i was rereading the scripts looking for the spelling of angrboða and this came up:

Tell Hel. She'll erase those memories. She'll erase them all...

so, honestly? i think that in scenario two líf just straight up gets hel to remove his memories of zacharias (as an aside maybe this is also why he never ever ever talks about other anna >:{ )

in that case, líf wouldn't really have any reason to talk to this man, who causes this empty deeply sad feeling to well up in him for now discernible reason. and zacharias has no reason (or time) to talk to this standoffish general of the dead. so. that's a real ships in the night moment.

number three i think líf would still hold the same guilt as in number two, but i don't think it would be as horrifically tragic, so i think it's more likely he'd be willing to approach zacharias. he does appear to have even worse of a thing than alfonse about not opening oneself up to people, but i think that even if he's líf, he once was an alfonse, and being that this is me answering this, i don't think any alfonse can really keep away from a zacharias for very long. its a version of the person who once knew him as well as any other person in the world. like líf can't really seem to stop himself from associating with main sharena, i don't think he could stop himself from reaching out in his own way to main zacharias. and god does that man need some more friends. i think zacharias would probably be a little frightened of líf, and of what an alfonse could become. but i think probably... i feel like a lot of book i issues stem from the fact that, justified or not, zacharias thinks alfonse would risk anything, any harm to save him. i don't know that confronting an alfonse who literally risked everything and did all harm to save his world would be a comfort, but i do think zacharias would get a lot out of having someone who's already done the worst they can do. been there, done that, got the tshirt. i think zacharias would be a little afraid of what an alfonse could become, but i think he would no longer have to be afraid of... no, anxious about it. i think there's a kind of calm in having something confirmed that zacharias could appreciate. healthy? unhealthy? fuck if i know. i also think that in líf, zacharias has a friend who he can't physically hurt anymore. lífs already dead. been there done there got the.... glowing gel torso. i think, curse nonewithstanding, zacharias will always have some degree of tension and fear about hurting people he's in a relationship with, be that because of his issues with abandonment, of abandoning, of harm, etc. but you know. líf's kind of a rock. and he's already hit his rock bottom, now that i'm thinking about rocks. i think that kind of steady, placid deathness could really help zacharias. and i think he would find it soothing, whether or not he knew why.

plus he will be able to know that if the curse gets him, if he dies... he'll still have a friend in the realm of the dead. he doesnt have to be so afraid of leaving and getting left

so there we go! lots of musings. i have been thinkin about why my headcanons are less that and more elaborate branching theories, and i think it is because i would change my opinion depending on which story i wanted to tell or hear or see.so yeah. dunno which one of these answers belongs to the question, what does your interpretation of Zacharias think about Líf and Thrasir?, but hopefully at least one of them is interesting to read about!

OH also. i think he would be petty-ly annoyed about them cribing líf and thrasir's name. like full on scholar petty. probably showed up to the order in a nerdy huff excited to meet the actual factual líf and thrasir and turns out its just those two, sitting around glowing and reciting death metal lyrics like they're spoken word ballads. dont think he'd get over that ever.

[regrettablewritings]

I, u, y for bodhi rook please!

As the words process in my mind, a tear rolls upon my cheek . . .

Could it be? I dare wonder. An lo: It is.

He has returned, after so far away in time . . .

I = Impression (What was their first impression?):

Well, he certainly wasn’t what you had expected, that was for sure. Defecting from the Empire was no easy feat, even for somebody as unassuming as a delivery pilot. To the enemy, every literal body counted — even if only to assure complete dominance over the individual. So when you had learned that one of their own had not only detected, but potentially played key in helping to locate Galen Erso?

You couldn’t help it: Your imagination went wild. You imagined someone big and strong, teeth gritting from years of pent up anger towards the unjust causes of the tyranny spreading across the galaxy.

What you got was a scrawny, sheepish, possibly traumatized (thanks, Saw, you absolute nerf-herder) slip of a man who seemed to be afraid of taking up any space he happened to exist in. It was...disappointing to say the least. But you had to commend him regardless for defecting and even surviving Saw, and there was no gain in looking down on him.  

And then came the Scarif mission.

Nobody had expected him to go -- well, nobody was excpected to go, given that the Alliance Council turned down Erso’s idea, but least of all you expected him to be willing to go and do it. You expected the blind guy to go sailing off to a certified death mission before you did this guy! And honestly, that had you worried for him. Unfulfilled expectations or not, he wasn’t someone who had incurred your ire or even your indifference; you may not have gotten the chance to actually know him beyond a few words exchanged during the very brief time he’d been on base (“Welcome to the right side.” “Uh, y-yes . . . Thank you . . .”), but he certainly didn’t strike you as someone who needed to go on this type of outing. Enough people died unnecessarily in this damned war . . .

To learn, eventually, that he wasn’t one of them was therefore all the more shocking to you.

While the mission to steal the Death Star blueprints had been successful, it clearly didn’t come easy. Everyone who had survived had been wounded to some degree, with Captain Andor appearing to receive the worst of it as he was carted off to the infirmary. Bodhi, to your relief, wasn’t especially harmed. Roughed up, certainly, and clearly shaken from the experience, but that didn’t change what you now knew for certain: Bodhi Rook, this timid bean pole of a defector, was one of the bravest men you had the pleasure of knowing existed.

Even though he apparently was intimidated by you when you two first met. Granted, everyone intimidated him: He had just went AWOL with the government he’d been employed by, he was “taken in” by people whom he’d been taught by propaganda to fear and be distrustful in, he was still trying to regain his frazzled sanity after being interrogated by that . . . that thing, and he’d just witnessed his home get bombed. Needless to say, the anxious-by-nature man was simply not in an especially welcoming mood.

Still, he tried to be civilized (maybe because he feared getting beat up if he didn’t). He wasn’t sure what to say in response to your, er, “greeting” when you hustled up war-battered clothes besides an awkward thank you. He really wasn’t sure what to make of you that would separate you from his overall feelings towards nearly everyone in this whole operation: You were strong, you had been through enough and were surely hardened by it, and you could probably snap his spine over your knew if you particularly cared to.

Of course, he’d spent next to no time with you when he thought these things of everyone involved in the Rebellion. He had no time to: He had to fly around the Maker’s galaxy and back! It actually wasn’t until after the Scarif mission that he was given ample time to readily wipe his impressions and assumptions clean. He felt he needed to, given what dedication he’d seen on those beaches.

Besides, you approaching him afterward certainly helped. You picked up that he wasn’t fond of crowds during evening mess when he quietly slinked away from the group gathering to hear retellings of the infiltration on Scarif. You figured perhaps a one-on-one situation might’ve sufficed. Better yet, inquiring about his current state might’ve been preferable to reliving the experience.

He appreciated the gesture on your part. Maybe . . . you weren’t nearly as ice-cold as he’d thought you were. At the very least, definitely not as bad as Cassian.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?):

Bodhi is a naturally anxious person, and the hardships and experiences he’s encountered haven’t exactly made that any better. Sure, he’s a lot braver now and more willing to act, but he’s still nowhere near as gung-ho or fiery as his companions.

He’s had some methods in the past that clearly didn’t work out in his favor (fun fact: he’s got a record for gambling), but one of the best tried and trues is simply going somewhere quiet. His thoughts are in a constant buzz, he benefits from a lack of outside stimuli when he feels overwhelmed. The problem is . . . quiet is so very hard to find when you’re in the middle of a war. As an Imperial cargo pilot, you could just plain forget about the idea of having time to yourself: You belong to the Empire, your time is the Empire’s time and you are in no position to use it up.

Being a part of the Rebellion is better by legions, but the base on Yavin IV leaves much to be desired in terms of privacy and quiet. Luckily, the planet is lush and forested: If Bodhi is on base and feels the need to sit in the quiet and gather his thoughts and calm down, he need only walk in any given direction, find a tree to sit under, and just stay there for a while. The places he chooses are far enough to where he can relax and not have his thoughts and heartbeat disturbed by the banging of machinery or the hollers of drill sergeants, but never so far as to be unable to get help should he need it.

It wasn’t long before he began to incorporate you into these relaxation methods, however. As it turns out, as much as he may enjoy being able to sit by himself in the brush, he very much likes being able to sit with you anywhere. You’re almost like a walking calming center for him, especially when you touch him: Hold his hand, rub his back, let him lay his head on your lap so you can play with his hair . . . It’s like a missing link he never knew he’d been missing to begin with! They’re seemingly small things, but they make a big difference. You can always feel him losing his tension beneath your touch, often announced by quiet sighs or tiny shudders. It’s truly the cutest thing and you’re so glad to be the cause of it and help him calm down. Just not nearly as glad as he is to have you there to calm him.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?):

The thought of marriage has switched on and off throughout Bodhi’s life; really, it depends on the exact moment. As a child, he certainly thought about it more, if only because children are want to do such things. But as an adult, it begins to falter. By the time the events of the story show up, he can go long stretches without even once thinking about his stance on whether or not he should get married. Because really, it’s more based on the exact moment: If he’s in a surprisingly good way or even in a moment where he must think about how short life can be, the certainly he gives it some thought.

But in his usual misery and anxiety while serving the Empire, such silly concerns are the furthest thing from his mind; they’re so far on the back burner that they may as well have fallen behind the stove, forgotten, dusty, and moldy!

Even when he meets you, the thought surprisingly doesn’t come up for a while. It’s not that you don’t make him happy or inspire any intention of long-term romance -- far from it, actually! You make him feel the happiest and most comfortable than he’s felt in literal years! In fact, that’s honestly probably why the subject of marriage doesn’t pop up to him so immediately: His life as of late has become a bit of a balancing act, what with him now being a part of a rebellion he hadn’t planned on joining and, consequentially, trying not to get him or his new comrades killed. Normally, this sort of thing would’ve sent him into a panic-induced coma. But with you present in his life, giving him a sense of calm and someone to fight hard enough to come back to, you actually make him start to enjoy the present. (Well, the calmer ones, at least.)

He’s not as caught up about the past or afraid of the future as he used to be; he’s actually enjoying the moment with you as is. Sure, every now and again, if he does (or doesn’t) mean to think about it, his mind does slip and he finds himself thinking, “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind being with them after all this . . .” He even dares to dream about the two of you sharing a life together on a nice, simple planet with lots of trees and greenery. Maybe somewhere quiet. A farm might be nice: He can so some gardening there and you two can build a house together, all big and roomy like you’d always wanted instead of cramped and stuffy like the living quarters you always complained about . . .

But then his attention would be dragged elsewhere (to a meeting, to training, to you calling him to join you for dinner). He doesn’t mind. He’s not brushing aside the possibilities of proposing to you and marrying you, but the dreams can wait: All in all, you’re here right now and he’s perfectly content being there with you. For now.

Thank you for asking and for being patient!

[if-the-crown-fits-translate-it]

Discord pt 92

[Date: 17/03, 07:42 PM GMT - 17/03, 09:29 PM GMT]

jayyyyyyyy: “fetch, come on, cant you see this isnt doing anything to help?

just take the damn ointment”

Little-K1ng: “he... what?”

Marcus: “I back read a little bit”

Marcus: “Just not here”

fetch: “fine. you want me to be honest huh. go on look at the fucking doc. just another place where my problems turned into everyone else's.”

Little-K1ng: fetch.... you really, really need to stop lying to me. im doing my best here, im trying so hard to let things slide in the name of giving you what you need. but you are far from making it easy on me”

fetch: “we're gonna forget all this happened in 3 days time anyway. it doesn't fucking matter what i tell you or what i dont.”

Little-K1ng: “you get angry when you're stressed, you stop responding, you stop listening to reason

but-.. wait, whats going to happen in 3 days?”

Maxwell: “....prince told us that faer family is coming back in 3 days”

fetch: “the beginning of spring.”

Maxwell: “spring officially begins then”

jayyyyyyyy: “we'll get you guys back, if you somehow go back in the first place”

Little-K1ng: “so.... so i get warning, this time,

thats.... almost too cruel”

fetch: “whatever. i honestly can't be asked to care at this point.”

Marcus: “You’d really say that to Mona of all people?”

Little-K1ng: “i..... i wouldnt ask that of you”

Marcus: “...three days huh”

Little-K1ng: “i would simply fucking EXPECT IT FROM YOU. HOW THE FUCK. AM I MEANT TO FEEL. WHEN I CANT STOP GRIEVING SOMEONE. WHOS RIGHT IN FUCKING FRONT OF ME, FETCH?”

donti (e): “... mona u alright...?”

Marcus: “Is that really a question you’re asking right now?”

donti (e): “ah.. sorry.”

jayyyyyyyy: “honestly at this point im willing to chuck a bucket of weedkiller at fetch's head”

Marcus: “Jeight.”

donti (e): “hey hey lets not get hastyy”

Little-K1ng: “i... [huff] i .... [sniff] i just.. i shouldnt have yelled i....”

Marcus: “This isn’t helping”

fetch: “i... you're expecting too much from me. i mean. you expect me to care at this point? when death is coming to our door and all we can do is throw on a little sprinkler? when all we can do is sit in a huddle and wait until these vines in our skulls fully bloom?”

donti (e): “... we discussed possible solutions to the buds if you.. want to change subject.. or not”

jayyyyyyyy: “fetch, the thing about this is that we have a fighting chance

we lose that chance if you stop fighting”

Little-K1ng: “im expecting you to fucking try, fetch. im expecting you to understand that we're all going through this, and every time you lie to me, to us, you cost us more time we could have spent trying to fix it”

fetch: “how would it help, by piling on more and more to the shitheap we have already? you're not supposed to worry about me. ive always been able to handle myself.”

Maxwell: “please ⌇⏁⍜⌿arguing....why are we arguing.....”

Marcus: “..”

Void: “...”

Little-K1ng: “wh... what did you just...?”

Maxwell: “....what....”

fetch: “...”

Maxwell: “why are...”

Marcus: “Max..”

Maxwell: “why are you staring at me what”

Marcus: “Can you say what you just said again”

Little-K1ng: “that sounded like...”

donti (e): “max...”

Little-K1ng: “say that again, max”

Marcus: “Please”

jayyyyyyyy: “actually maybe dont”

Marcus: “Max say it again”

jayyyyyyyy: “that. i think fighting is causing the process to speed up”

Maxwell: “please stop arguing....why are we arguing.....?”

Little-K1ng: “i... thats not what i heard”

donti (e): “... lets stop arguing”

Marcus: “That’s..that’s what I thought you said

You just

Didn’t say it like that”

Maxwell: “but i did”

fetch: “...yall still think I need to be priority right now?”

Maxwell: “thats what i said”

jayyyyyyyy: “you, uh, said "stop" in enderspeak”

Maxwell: “what no i didnt”

Marcus: “Fetch. This is going to be you so kindly shut the fuck up about not being a priority”

Little-K1ng: “fetch, you fail to recognize that you're always my priority, even if you're kind of an ass”

Marcus: “Max it’s okay

I told you it would be okay”

Little-K1ng: “max, hug?”

Maxwell: “why....why are you all acting so weird?”

Little-K1ng: “its alright, max”

jayyyyyyyy: “we're all just stressed mate”

Maxwell: “are yall okay?”

donti (e): “weere fine its fine..”

Maxwell: “its?

look im not a child you can tell me whats going on”

Marcus: “We told you”

fetch: “you spoke in ender.”

Marcus: “You denied it”

donti (e): “you spoke ender.”

Maxwell: “you....youre kidding right?”

jayyyyyyyy: “nope”

Maxwell: “ha funny joke”

jayyyyyyyy: “we're not joking”

fetch: “for once im not lying.”

Marcus: “You told us to tell you.

We told you.”

Little-K1ng: “here, come in for a hug, wont you?”

Maxwell: “no no no no no”

Little-K1ng: “ive got you, max”

Maxwell: “i couldnt have no”

jayyyyyyyy: “hold on, hes panicking”

Little-K1ng: “its the stress, max

its alright, im here”

jayyyyyyyy: “mona, give him a little space”

Maxwell: “no no no stay please”

jayyyyyyyy: “i never said for anyone to leave

are you okay with being given hugs, or would you rather not?”

Maxwell: “im okay with it”

LLyr: “they’ve kind of established max likes the contact at this point i think”

jayyyyyyyy: “yeah, but you can never be too careful”

LLyr: “fair enough”

Little-K1ng: “i appreciate the concern for max, jayx8″

fetch: “I. i would offer a hug but I'm not feeling up to it. i think I'm just gonna go for a walk.”

jayyyyyyyy: “its

Little-K1ng: “fetch...”

jayyyyyyyy: “​hm”

Maxwell: “i dont wanna go back no no please no”

Little-K1ng: “i would rather you not go out where the court roams

you got in one good bite, let it be enough”

fetch: “i'll stick nearby.

i just need to get out of the house.”

Little-K1ng: “stay where you can see the road, alright? text me if you need a pickup”

jayyyyyyyy: “stay near the neighborhood. go to the mineshaft if you need to”

fetch: “yeah. got it. later.”

Maxwell: “I'm scared”

donti (e): “...”

Little-K1ng: “oh, max...”

Maxwell: “oh no oh god oh merde”

donti (e): “sh shsshshh max its fine.

calm down its alright.”

Little-K1ng: “tell you what, we can destress with some hot cocoa? with the tiny colorful marshmallows you like?”

Marcus: “I can go make it

I don’t think max wants to be alone right now”

jayyyyyyyy: “maybe watch some movies? ones that uh, dont have kidnapping in them, too. moana would be good?”

Little-K1ng: “i dont actually.. own any movies

i dont watch them”

donti (e): “youtube videos ?”

Little-K1ng: “that works”

[They watch a video of an otter for a while, and discuss the events from earlier this day. Max thinks that the wreathe mayn’t be as bad as everyone thinks it’ll be, as it will have calendula marigolds which are good for helping to heal.]

Little-K1ng: “....ah.. they are, but maybe..... nah, nevermind.... ill let you enjoy the thought”

Maxwell: “they may be fully metal but still...maybe then can help the family....”

Marcus: “...”

Little-K1ng: “.........”

Maxwell: “what?”

Marcus: “..yeah max, that’s a nice thought”

Maxwell: “i thought so too!”

Little-K1ng: “i cant believe.... im staring down the barrel of either losing all 3 of you... or going with you and not remembering any of this... that hurts, and it hasnt even happened yet”

Marcus: “Well

I don’t know if this will comfort you or not

But you might not entirely forget this”

Little-K1ng: “true! this is honestly the happiest thing to happen to me in an incredibly long time, there is a chance itll stick”

Marcus: “Baron and Prince remember their childhoods a little bit”

Maxwell: “stick...sticky...ha honey is sticky but not good

tastes yucky”

Marcus: “...I remembered Elizabeth and I learning codes

....max?”

Maxwell: “hm?

something wrong?”

Marcus: “What was that about honey just now?”

Maxwell: “oh!

well mona said stick

and stick is one letter off from sticky!

and hony is really sticky

but i dont like honey”

Marcus: “...got it

Maxwell: “bleh”

Marcus: “Okay yeah that

That makes sense”

Maxwell: “yeah!”

Little-K1ng: “i wish i hadnt snapped at fetch like that... maybe when he comes back i can give him a proper apology”

Maxwell: “hm perhaps that would be good

family should get along”

[this message was deleted shortly afterwards]

Marcus: “....”

Little-K1ng: “i...?”

Maxwell: “what?”

Marcus: “M..ax?”

Little-K1ng: “max?”

Maxwell: “god damn it did i speak fucking ender again or some shit???”

Marcus: “N..no”

Little-K1ng: “n..no.....”

Maxwell: “the fuck happened then? yall look freaked out”

Marcus: “Um”

Little-K1ng: “nevermind! :)!!”

Maxwell: “hm.....if youre sure...”

Marcus: “I must be tired, it’s fine Max! :)”

Maxwell: “youve been sleeping a lot man you sure?”

Marcus: “Yeah, gotta be tired to sleep a lot right”

Maxwell: “I guess”

Little-K1ng: “are you guys...... hungry?”

[The conversation switches to the topic of making brownies and other baked goods. There was also small talk about methods of removing the growing wreathe buds that had been suggested earlier in the day. Mona suggests cutting one of the buds off, if Max could handle it. Jack and Marcus argue over their priorities: their concern for Max and their family respectively. After snipping off a small part of the buds, the following conversation ensures:]

Marcus: “...he’s not bleeding”

donti (e): “can you guys take a look at what mona cut off?”

emuhlee: “well, that part is good?”

Maxwell: “theres some time of fucking liquid ow”

Marcus: “It looks like that...cellulose that comes out of dandelions”

Little-K1ng: “Hhhhhhhhh”

Marcus: “Mona?

donti (e): “is max alright??”

Marcus: “Uh..in pain?”

dreaming: “uh get a towel?”

Marcus: “It’s not a lot”

Maxwell: “that really hurt jesus fucking christ”

Marcus: “Have you never picked a dandelion?

It’s like that”

Little-K1ng: “That's kinda. Gross”

Jack the Observer: “it's not blood though, right?”

Maxwell: “my headache is much worse....”

Little-K1ng: “No not blood”

Marcus: “It’s..

Huh”

donti (e): “blood substitute?”

Marcus: “It stopped”

Jack the Observer: “huh.”

Marcus: “......”

donti (e): “hey what happened to the bud”

Marcus: “Mona

Mona look”

Marcus: “Mona there’s two more”

Maxwell: “God damn it is this fucking Hercules or some shit”

Jack the Observer: “pft”

donti (e): “well.

we can at least look at the bud that was cut off.”

Marcus: “It’s just sitting there”

[The conclusion from this experiment was that the buds have nerve endings, which is why it hurt Maxwell and worsened his headache when it was cut, even after being numbed with ice prior to cutting. People ask about Fetch’s whereabouts. This was his last known update to the document:]

[With this information, people begin to speculate that Fetch might not be back for a while…]

[xhaotixaesthetica]

Direwolf!Chan (Hyrbid AU!Chan)

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator 

Author's Note: Finally got around to writing some of the personal stuff I wanted to write for this blog! I don’t have any requests as of my wrtiting this on Dec. 2, 2019 so feel free to request right now! Also note that I obviously don’t know anything about Chan’s siblings or his family so I had to make a lot of stuff up for the headcanon, this doesn’t reflect their actual personalities cause idk them. ALSO PLEASE TAKE NOTE:  these are so long that I’m going to make a separate headcanon for all of the members that’s about dating hybrid SKZ, so we’re not going over that right now, this is just about them as general hybrids. It’s gonna be a big polyship thing tho cause other wise i’d have like 9 different versions of the reader)

Trigger Warning: mentions of death, depression, self-hatred, insomnia, and themes of mental illness 

Genre: fluff, with bits of angst 

Word-Count: 3.3K+ 

You are in: the Amalgam Star System 

YES HYBRID AU!CHAN

Lezzgetit

Chan is pretty rare in a multitude of ways

for one he’s a wolf hybrid

wolf hybrids are very rare and hard to get right

the pups usually come out with lots of birth defects and rarely make it past two weeks

and not only is he a wolf, he’s a DIREWOLF

Direwolves are like the superhuman monster version of wolves, the same in looks but generally 3X the size with incredible strength and speed

They are also considered feral, dangerous, savage beasts

In all countries except 6, it is illegal to breed direwolves. Direwolves and Direwolf shifters are to be killed on sight or brought to the government for testing/genital neutralization surgery.

Because of these restrictions, any direwolf or direwolf shifter you find is likely to be a wildling

That’s what Chan is

Chan was born deep in the woods to a human father and a direwolf mother. Both cared for and doted on their son extensively. Whenever food was low, they gave it to Chan. Whenever it was cold, they’d cuddle up to their son to protect him from the elements

Then they gave had a daughter named Hannah and a son named Lucas.

Their parents were surprised to see that Chan, instead of having the normal jealousy an only child gets when they have to share their attention with new siblings, actually grew quite protective over his brother and sister

That was when they knew Chan was an alpha. Being an alpha direwolf means that if Chan were to ever get caught by the government, he would not receive a quick death or be allowed to live as human — after an invasive neutering.

No, he would be kept in captivity all his life in a government facility, subjected to torturous experiments.

They knew that protecting their children was more important then than ever.

From a young age, Chan’s mother taught Chan to hunt. While Chan’s father taught them survival skills like recognizing poisonous plants, starting fires, tracking, trapping, cleaning wounds, and properly cooking things, their mother taught them how to fight, how to use weapons, how to shift and fight in their wolf form, and how to fight as a group to maximize protection.

Their family lived in hiding but they were all happy.

Each of the kids had different talents. Chan was extremely good at hunting animals, defending the house, and protecting his family, as well as cooking anything anyone brought home. Surprisingly, he was also pretty good at taming animals, in his human form at least.

Hannah was adept at identifying poisonous things, gathering roots and berries, and setting traps. Lucas was good at medicine, growing things, starting fires.

So the kids made the household pretty damn efficient.

Fast forward to when Chan’s thirteen and that’s when things take a turn for the worse

Chan saw footprints in the earth, footprints that were obviously from a large person with a heavy stride and big hunting boots.

The whole family was on high alert for a week. The knew a hunter had probably spotted them and ratted them out.

Chan, Hannah, and their mother could have ran, they could shift into their wolf forms and survive on rabbits and other things.

But his father was a human and Lucas hadn’t really learned how to control his shift yet. They wouldn’t survive that kind of life in hiding and if they left them at the house, they’d be killed for harboring direwolf shifters.

So, as they expected, the government showed up at their house days later.

It was...bad

Chan’s dad went down and his mom told him to take his siblings and run, leave his parents behind so he could protect Lucas and Hannah.

And reluctantly, he did just that

They didn’t last long

Chan tried his best, he really did, but Hannah and Lucas didn’t really stand a chance

They were younger than him, their wolf forms less developed, Hannah didn’t have the stamina he did and Lucas barely had a wolf form at all

Chan barely escaped with his life

He was....distraught to say the least

He felt that it was all his fault, he was supposed to protect their family and now they were all dead and he was still alive

Alpha shifters are known to be the defenders, which was why his family counted on him so much for that. He felt that he failed as an Alpha, as a son, and as an older brother and he’d never forgive himself for that

Now cut to you

Your parents were hybrids rights activists

They acquired Woojin when he was a baby from a circus after his mother died from maltreatments from the circus

They fostered Woojin for a bit before he was adopted by your mother’s friend

Then, later on, they had you

You and Woojin grew up side by side as best friends

And when you were thirteen, a year after Chan’s family was slaughtered, Woojin burst into your parent's house looking frantic and terrified and carrying Chan on his back

Chan was in pretty bad shape, dark circles under his eyes, underfed, giant claw marks and bruises on him

Your parents were pretty distraught, they couldn’t think of who could have done this to a person, much less a kid that young.

You all cleaned his wounds and took care of him.

Woojin looked extremely apprehensive the entire time

When you all finished with Chan, Woojin grabbed your mother’s arm and said, “Don’t tell anyone about him. No one can know. And never be in a room alone with him.”

And before anyone could ask questions, he left

Woojin didn’t ever get too close to Chan, never visited him when he was unconscious, and got very upset whenever you or your parents went in a room alone with him to take care of him

But he still wouldn’t say what was making him so apprehensive of Chan

“It’s not my business to tell.”

But you didn’t pay Woojin any attention skjsksj

You grew very attached to Chan

It took two weeks of intensive care from you and your family for him to wake up

During those two weeks, you all obviously didn’t know Chan’s name, and you called him Angel Boy because you thought he was very pretty

You’d always make sure his IV drip was proper, check on him all the time, sit with him, and read him stories and talk to him and shit

Chan won’t admit it until years later, but your voice really helped him during that time, sometimes he can still remember it

That year he spent alone and on the run, terrified, paranoid, wallowing in loneliness, depression, self-hatred, and survivor’s guilt really took its toll on him so to hear someone being so kind and caring for him helped him wake up a lot quicker

Even though Chan was exposed to lots of love and happiness in his childhood, it only took that one day for him to realize that the world hates him for what he is and the few humans he met in that year by himself only served to reinforce that

He didn’t think anyone would ever care about him again :(

When Chan wakes up, Woojin absolutely refuses to even go down the hallway he’s in

You and your family are ecstatic but a bit worried because Chan doesn’t really do anything once he wakes up

He doesn’t ask who you are or why he’s there, doesn’t ask if you’re going to hurt him, he really seems like he doesn’t care

You thought that that would make Woojin ease up on him, but if anything that seemed to make him distrust Chan more

Direwolves had even more enhanced senses than other hybrids so it wasn’t hard for Chan to hear you and Woojin’s frequent arguments about him

Woojin kept saying that Chan was dangerous, he wouldn’t say why, but he seemed to be fairly certain that Chan would eviscerate you and your family in your sleep or something

You argued that you’d been alone with Chan plenty of times and he’d never shown a tendency toward violence for anything, much less people

Chan didn’t want to be a burden and he certainly didn’t want to cause a rift between you and your best friend

So one night he tried to leave your house

He didn’t really have a plan, he was in an unfamiliar place and the last thing he wanted was to be caught by the government

But you’d been so nice to him and he really liked you and he was terrified to ruin your life the way he thinks he ruined his family’s

He was so emotionally upheaved that night that even though he had amazing senses, he didn’t hear you get out of bed

You were going in the kitchen for a midnight snack when you saw him about to go out of the front door

You ran up behind him and hugged him around the middle before you knew what you were doing

Chan froze, surprised to say the least

“Please don’t go. You don’t have anywhere to go and I don’t want you to get hurt. Please stay.”

Stay

You wanted him to stay

The next thing you knew Chan burst into tears

He cried for a loooongg time

You both just sat on the sofa with him sobbing in your arms and holding you like you would disappear

Chan got better after that

He still didn’t talk, but he got out of bed now. He did chores around the house and helped with your homework

yes his father actually taught him school things lmao

i go to school boi

your parents were amazed at the change in him

Chan didn’t really smile that much or have a lot of facial expressions at all

And if you ever passed by his room at night, you’d probably hear him crying

Plus sleep didn’t come easily at all to him, his case of insomnia was quite severe

But baby steps

Even though Chan didn’t walk, you and your family certainly talked to him

You always included him in the conversation and you could tell he was listening

Woojin still didn’t want to be around Chan

Chan would stay out of whatever room Woojin was in. He knew that Woojin was aware of what he was and that he was terrified of him, so he gave him space

Whenever Chan would stray too close to Woojin, he would freeze and stop talking, the hair on the back of his neck raised, and he wouldn’t relax until Chan got farther away from him

You had no clue why he was acting like this

Woojin was a grizzly bear hybrid, damn near an apex predator, and he acted like a mouse whenever he saw Chan

A year passed, you’re now 14 and Chan’s 15, and one night, Chan was sitting in the kitchen unable to sleep

That night, sleep happened to be eluding you as well so you decided to join him

That night was the first time you ever heard Chan talk

And it was about his family

He told you every single thing he ever knew about his parents and his siblings. About the way they were raised and how funny Hannah was and how much he liked looking at the stars with his mom

When your parents came down for work, Chan was still talking

They didn’t go to work that day and you didn’t go to school

You all sat with Chan and listen to him talk about his life

He didn’t mention anything about what he was, that was a bit too much for him

And he didn’t mention anything about what happened to his family, but judging from how much he loved them and the fact that they weren’t with him now, you all knew something terrible happened to them

That conversation was exactly what Chan needed

It felt so good to talk about his family, to tell someone about them

And even though that didn’t take away his survivor’s guilt at all, he felt a lot better

And he was talking now, he didn’t cry as much, and he slept more :)

He was slowly, very slowly, going through some kind of recovery

Chan is very thankful to you and your family for saving him

And even to Woojin, because even though he thinks Woojin hates him, he knows that Woojin was the one who saved him and brought him there in the first place

Because of this Chan grew quite overprotective of all of you

He always cooked, made you healthy but still somehow delicious food, helped where he could with your homework, did chores, made you and your parents packed lunches with cute notes in them, even throwing extra snacks in yours and telling you to give it to Woojin who would always blush when you gave them to him

Even though he’d been so cold at the beginning, he was so loving and thoughtful, and sweet that even Woojin was finding it hard to be scared around him anymore

He still didn’t let Chan too close and he was still observably wary of him, but they could at least be in the same room and carry a conversation now

wow, we stan character development

Chan eventually enrolls in school with you and Woojin

Your parents are some chaotic good, law-breaking ass activists, and managed to secure some fake records and papers and stuff for Chan

You, looking at the very convincing documents: “Uh, how did you guys get this?”

One of your parents says, “Email” while the other simultaneously says, “Triangle” and then they both start glaring at each other

The other kids at school are kind of scared of Chan at first tbh

In multiple videos of SKZ, some of the members say other trainees were scared of him and he didn’t talk to people and I find that so hard to believe but yet at the same time.....i can totally see it

He has an expressionless face and just stalks around the halls in his all-black but at the same time he’s intimidatingly gorgeous, not to mention he glares at anyone that he thinks is mistreating you and Woojin and he’s serious af about his schoolwork

But he’s also really sweet and kind and helps people with homework, helps people talk to their crushes, and beats up bullies

He becomes pretty popular very quickly

He joins the swim team and is a fucking beast, bringing home medal after medal

He gets high grades in AP classes and tutors a bunch of people and all the teacher’s love him and he’d kind of surprised because wow he’s happy and life is going good

Woojin is already pretty popular cause he’s hot af and has blessed the school choir with his godly voice

And you’re best friends with him and now also best friends with the hot new swim team captain and everyone’s like WHAT IS THEIR SECRET

You have a shit ton of girls constantly coming @ u asking how to confess to Woojin and you’re like??? as if i have a fucking clue cause i like them too bitch tf

But THATS FOR ANOTHER HEADCANON (these are so long that I’m going to make a separate headcanon for all of the members that’s about dating hybrid SKZ, so we’re not going over that right now, this is just about them as general hybrids)

Another year goes past, you’re 15 and Chan’s 16 and Woojin is pretty comfy with Chan by this point

This is also when you and Woojin are just now learning of Chan’s birthday

“WHAT THE HELL CHRIS? WHY DIDN’T YOU FUCKING SAY SOMETHING?!”

“I don’t know, I guess I just forgot.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU FORGOT, WHAT THE F U C K!”

Unfortunately, his bday has already passed but you, Woojin, your parents, and Chan’s parents all decide to throw him a bday party anyway

So Chan gets home after swim practice one day, and he’s v pouty and salty about the fact that you and Woojin didn’t wait for him to walk him home

But then he walks in and sees all the party decorations and food and cake and you’re all standing there smiling at him, all so loving and caring that he can’t stop himself

“I’m a direwolf hybrid”

For a few seconds, Chan doesn’t even process what he’s said

It’s silent immediately

You and Woojin’s parents have their jaws dropped and you’re confused as hell

Woojin just looks really really sad

And Chan doesn’t know what do to

He loves all of you, you’re like his family. He already lost one, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to take losing another one

He doesn’t want you to be afraid of him, doesn’t want you to turn him in, or kick him out

But he doesn’t want to leave you either

He knows that your parents and Woojin’s are hybrid rights activists and instilled those values into you and Woojin but he feels that that’s different

Chan doesn’t have a cute little tail or ears on his head. And, unlike most hybrids, he can full-on change into the animal he’s mixed with. He’s more like a werewolf, an ancient monster, than a hybrid like Woojin

And Chan doesn’t know what else to do so he runs

He sprints out of the door at a speed that you’ve never seen before

And even though you’d previously thought direwolves and their subsequent hybrids were just a fairy tale monster to scare kids, you instantly believe him

You also don’t give two single shits

Because you love Chan, you care about him and he’s your best friend. You know how good of a person he is and yeah, you’ve heard about how dangerous direwolves are but you trust Chan and you know he would never hurt you

You all go out and look for him but you know it’s pretty much a lost cause. The city is big and Chan was raised to be able to hide and survive if you wanted, you guys don’t have a chance of finding him if he doesn’t want you to

You just have to trust that he’ll come back

You guys don’t see a trace of Chan for two days

During this time, Woojin reveals that this was something he knew from the moment he saved Chan. He could smell it in his scent, very similar to a wolf hybrid’s but with a trace of something else a lot more powerful. It was the reason he was so terrified and mistrusting of him

He feels really guilty about how he treated Chan at first, feeling like it was his fault that Chan was convinced you’d all hate him now

Because he knows Chan’s aware that he knew and he thinks he’s the one that scared him so much about revealing that

Even though you’re, admittedly, a little miffed at him, you understand and you can see how much he’s beating himself about it now

You both especially start freaking out when you connect the dots and realize that that's what must have happened to Chan’s family. They were hunted and he blames himself

When Chan finally comes back, he’s surprised to get tackled in hugs, you’re all crying and talking about how worried you were about him and how you thought you’d never see him again

And he sees that you all still love him and this doesn’t really change anything

Chan didn’t think he missed his wolf form that much until you all take a trip out to the woods one day and he can finally shift again

he’s entirely too massive to be going into his wolf form in the house

and you and Woojin are just amused as shit watching this absolutely massive apex predator frolicking around in the grass, chasing you all and nipping at your heels, laying around with his tongue hanging out of his mouth

And you two are like wow we would really die for this thing

But it’s ok cause Chan would die for yall too 

The Amalgam Star System 

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator 

[moonpaw]

I might just be stupid but i thought you had a list of good quirk!deku fics and i cant find it ;w; if you do have such a thing could you please post it?

i never posted one but im happy to!

heres some good quirk!izuku fics that ive enjoyed

A beacon in the dark   - at the age of 4 izuku goes blind and discovers what his quirk is a decade later which is basically a sort of sensor  

Dis(associate)  - izukus quirk is basically “disassociating”, he turns into a ghost leaving his body behind, he cant be seen when this happens but he can touch things and be heard and with OFA he can talk to the previous holders

From Muddy Waters  - izuku has AFO and wants to become a hero to take down his father

Fallen Angel  - izuku has his mothers quirk, he was kidnapped as a young child and his mother was murdered, he spent the next decade being trained to become an assassin

Stygian Fire  -izuku has a “”fire quirk”” and once it manifested his father (endeavor) comes and takes him to the todoroki household to help him master it (goes about as well as you think)  

Daymare  -izuku has a “horror” quirk, it inflicts terror and fear into a person (and himself) and can transform him into a monster form when pressed 

Juxtapose  -izuku has a “minor banishment” quirk that can let him banish up to 10 grams, its a very minor quirk but he soon learns that its pretty dangerous 

Dancing away from the void  -an Ajin au, izuku commits suicide in the first chapter and discovers he cant die, after his second death he gets an “Ajin” (some kind of ghost being only him and others like him can see, but it can interact with the world just fine)

Yesterday Upon The Stair  -izuku has a quirk that lets him see ghosts, he tries to help them out if he can

Useless Monster  -izuku has a quirk that lets him take the pain of others and give it to himself, he can also turn into a monster (tho this isnt a quirk) in this fic his mom disappeared when he was 6 and he’s been homeless ever since

Stare Into the Void  - when izuku is 10 bakugou accidentally blasts one of his eyes out, this unlocks a hidden quirk izuku had which can -induce pain, cause hallucinations, and something else along those lines

olly olly oxenfree  -izuku’s quirk is something that causes fear in a person if they gaze into his face, as a result his face is pretty much always shifting- adding more eyes and mouths than he needs, he wears a mask always to hide it

A Dangerous Game  - izuku was kidnapped at 13 and went under training to become a villain, he was given 3 quirks (a telepathic fire, speed, and a quirk that freezes time for a short period) he joins UA as a double spy

Live a Hero  - izuku has a quirk that messes with a persons senses, he was trained as a villain for the first decade of his life until he escaped and was brought up by inko

Burn Your Wings  -izuku has both of his parents quirks, he can pull things to him but he has to also push fire out of him when he does, izuku hates using his fire

Leviathan  -izukus quirk is “leviathan” a monster that hes terrified of, he can transform some of his body into the leviathan

Sungazers  -izuku’s quirk is one that gathers attention to himself, he just doesnt realize it until after he joins UA 

oyasumi midoriya  -izukus quirk is….???? ? 

Words as Weapons  -AFO is izukus father and he switches out izukus quirk every 6 months, AFO teaches izuku that you can use words as a weapon just as well as a quirk, izuku doesnt know his father is a villain but he sure doesnt like him anyway (lots and lots of gaslighting)

float on.  -izuku was kidnapped as a child and was basically used as a test subject until two healing quirks were forced on him, he escaped and became a mercenary and wants to desperately get out of the hole he dug himself in- so he tries to become a hero   

[I Don’t Have A] Telepathic Heart  -izuku has an analysis quirk where he is constantly taking in information, he eventually discovers he can learn others quirks by focusing 100% on them  

Indefinite  -izuku is related to AFO and is brought up to become his downfall, his quirk allows others to give him their only if they are willing, and he can give them back but only to the original owner. he joins UA to stop AFO– also he is from 800 years in the future, whoops 

Optimistic Pessimism  -izukus quirk is bad luck, murphys law and all that

His Father’s Son  -basically a blue exorcist au, izukus quirk lets him transform into a demon but alas the demon just wants hell on earth so izuku has to be careful as fuck not to let it get control of him, he can also transform parts of his body into his demon self and control blue fire

well heres a good number of quirk!izuku hope u find a few u like

[marshmallowprotection]

Well, hey, if youre willing to write for it im delighted to request it! If you dont already have an idea in mind, how about snapshots of each rfa member with the rfas unofficially/officially adopted child? Or what each would do if they needed to pick them up from school cause they got sick? I kind of love this whole idea so ive already thought up way too many ways to use it haha, but id be happy with literally anything related to the rfa communally raising a kid

I've written some little blurbs for you, nothing long but something just enough to get a taste of what it might be like. I couldn't decide on a specific kid to use so I'm just going to swap between a boy and a girl for whichever it feels right for. 

Yoosung 

"Sungie, do you always get to see so many animals?" 

"Mmm. Yeah, it's part of my studies. If I wanna be a great Vet someday, I have to learn about all kinds of animals and meet them." 

"Really cool! I wouldn't mind if I got to hang out with puppies all day." 

"Well… It's not always like that." 

"Oh, right, there must be kitties and bunnies too!" 

They always chatted like this. 

Yoosung spent the time that he did have free with everybody's favorite son. He was often one of the least busy members of the group but only during the afternoons while the others were working. They would waste a lot of time playing games that he enjoyed or LOLOL, which Yoosung liked. 

They got along really well. Yoosung had taken to him like a big brother, and while he wasn't entirely sure if he was doing it right, he enjoyed the time they spent together. 

He wasn't ever really that close with his big sister, so to have a little buddy to hang out with like this was so different!  

He wasn't the youngest person now, so a lot of the words directed towards him were now thrown to the wayside. It made him feel like he was pretty mature! 

That wasn't always the case, though. 

Video games were an easy way for them to interact and because of that he got a little too invested in them. Of course, just because he was older didn't mean that he always won those games. 

The kid took it ten times more seriously than he ever did and he had to actually try to win what they were on. He never really had that issue before without having many people to play against. But, it was like Seven had been tutoring him on how to destroy others. 

Today was no different. 

"I WIN!" he shrieked as he jumped off of the couch and thrust his hands in the air as Yoosung hung his head in defeat. 

"Looks like you win again," he laughed, though still a little embarrassed. 

Zen

She was a star, a bright shining star. 

All she wanted to do was be the one who made all the sad stuff go away, far, far away from here! It was a dream of hers to be as cool as her family was, and she thought the best way to do that would be to practice for the next party! 

She got the idea from Jaehee, cause she always said that Zen could shine so brightly that it made her feel better. 

So, who else to ask for tips then Zen? 

So, she put on her little show as best as she could for him. 

"You're doing great, keep it up out there, princess!" Zen cheered her on as she spun around in circles and circles on end, pretending to perform for the little crowd of plush toys and Zen.

He clapped as she finished up her little routine a few minutes later, with her arms stretched out wide and little chest heaving from all the little motions. 

Her eyes twinkle with such joy. It was a blessing to see her look so happy and all she ever wanted to hear was that she was getting better at this. 

She puffs out her cheeks when he doesn't say much more, "D'ya like it, Zenny? I can't show everybody else less you think s'good!" 

This little girl was an absolute darling to everybody that she came into contact with and it was no surprise given her parent, who had been the kindest soul ever to walk the face of the planet. She never caused any trouble and all she wanted to do was have a little fun every now and again. 

Zen wasn't all that great with kids, at least, he never felt like he was. He didn't exactly do a perfect job all the time, but he did try his best when he could. 

She had insisted that he sit down and watch her perform this time around. She wanted to show that she could be as dazzling as Zen was, and he would stand to agree that this little girl had a future in talent if she wanted to pursue it. 

Even if she was a little bit pitchy with her own rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. 

Zen let out a little laugh. He pressed his hand against the top of her head and ruffled her hair. "It was very good. You'll blow everybody away at the next party for sure, okay? I need to watch out. You're going to give me a run for my money." 

Jaehee

The little boy clutched at his locks, clearly frustrated with the paper of homework in front of himself. It just wasn't making any sense to him and he really wanted to just give up and quit it. 

He had been trying so hard to do it all on his own so nobody would get worried.  

That hadn't worked because Jaehee caught him looking so dejected in the corner of the café. 

There was no hiding anything from that woman. She just knew when something was wrong and wouldn't let the subject go when she started talking. 

She always got onto him. It wasn't rude or mean though! 

She was just looking out for him, he knew. It didn't change the fact it was a little embarrassing. 

Jaehee looked over his notes and instead of scolding him for the bad marks, she merely hummed and nodded her head. She pointed out some of the troubling areas for him and tapped the spots. 

"So you see, you'll need to do this first before you start doing this part of the question. You're getting ahead of yourself when you're working on these types of problems." 

He stared at the paper for a moment with pursed lips, "...Oh. I guess I didn't think about that." 

"Why don't we try some together and see where it's confusing, okay?" Jaehee smiled. 

He may have felt unsure of himself but he knew that he could trust her judgment at times like this. 

Jumin 

"You look lovely today… I see you and Elizabeth the 3rd are wearing matching bows." 

"Oh, you noticed? I tied them all by myself too!" 

"Did you? That's very crafty of you to do so, princess. Elizabeth seems positively pleasant about it. Why, may I ask, did you do it?" 

"Oh! Elizabeth and I are having a tea party today. We can't have one without looking cute n' stuff. You think my Mommy would like these?" 

"She would. That's her favorite color."

Jumin had never been sure how to act around children. He had never really been a normal child himself, and by the time he figured it out, he was already well grown into an adult. Now, he was really learning how to interact with children. 

This little girl had stolen not only his heart but the hearts of everybody she came into contact with over the past few months.

She was bubbly and sweet, never out of line, she had a penchant for cute toys and little accessories, and she liked to make her own things and play pretend. 

Most importantly, she was the only person in this world who could get CEO Jumin Han to sit in a small chair and pretend to drink tea. 

That's what he was doing right now. 

Elizabeth the 3rd was sitting on her own chair as the girl pretended to pour out some tea into her cup with a smile, "You want some more, Elizabeth? Really? Okay, more tea for the lady!"

Once she set it down she glanced over at Jumin with a big grin, "I'm glad you like it too, I tried really hard. I made some for everybody to wear! I made you a purple one!"

And if anybody thought he wouldn't wear a bow in his hair for this kid, they were wrong. 

Seven

“I did it! I think I put it together, it works, it really works!“

She always looked at the world with stars in her eyes. 

Every new experience was something great to watch happen and it didn’t matter what it was that she was doing or trying out. She always smiled and laughed. It was a great sound, and it had been such a long time since Seven had even heard anything like that. 

This little girl was equal parts smart and sweet. 

If Seven handed her something to work on, she would devour it and figure out what was wrong or what needed to be fixed within a couple of minutes. Seven let her tinker with some of his old robots. Granted, he didn’t give her anything really complex, but still, she learned fast. 

It didn’t always work out, but she never lost her big grin. 

He beamed. “Oh? So you did!  That’s impressive. Good job! Meowy 2.0 here is looking much more lively, huh?�� 

She gripped onto the little bot and nodded her head. “Mhm! I wasn’t sure if I was gonna be able to figure it out, but thanks to your help, I got it.”

He couldn’t have been more proud. 

Seven didn’t know what it was like to have many older people in your life care for you like this in a way that was more domestic and typical. He never thought that he would ever have to chance to be around kids like this, but it was something that he always wanted to do. 

She had stolen his heart, though. He would do anything for the kid. 

“That’s right,” Seven nodded. ”You don’t have to do everything alone to figure stuff out. It’s actually better to ask for help when you don’t know what to do next time.” 

She was quiet for a moment and grinned. “...Yeah, about that. I was wondering, how hard would it be to add a flamethrower?” 

Nobody tell the others about that though. 

V

"Does it matter if I make my sky a different color then blue? Why does it always have to be blue? Is it wrong to do something like that? Can it only be blue…? I don't understand." 

"Well, the sky isn't just blue, you know. It can be almost any color you want it to be, it's your drawing to paint so it's your choice what it looks like. Why do you ask?" 

He hung his head, not wanting to look V in the eyes. "... Some kids told me I was stupid and wrong. I guess... I’m just not as good as you thought I was."

V frowned. He got to the boy’s level and pressed his hands against his shoulders, "Hey… that's not true at all. I love your sky, that's why we put it up on the fridge." 

He had really low self-esteem. It wasn’t something that was always remedied by the fact that he had a support system behind him. For some children, it was hard to connect with others in some capacity. 

This boy was always radiant and smiling when he was with the RFA. But, when he was alone or by himself, there were those times when the unease shined through. It wasn’t for a lack of love. Those feelings could affect anyone no matter their life or background. 

V hated to see that. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, quietly. “I would understand if you didn’t.” 

Because he was special, not only to him and the rest of the RFA but to himself as well.

“I’m sure. I would never lie to you. Now, let’s see what we can do about this problem of yours at school, okay?” 

Saeran 

Saeran was always wary of children. 

He always thought of his parents and how badly they had screwed him over as a kid, and his first fear was that he was going to do something as bad as what they did to him to somebody else. That was the last thing that he wanted to do to anyone. 

It wasn’t easy for him to build a bond with MC’s little girl, but he did try every now and again. For some reason, the girl really liked him and stuck to him like glue at every chance that she got. It was kind of hilarious to see somebody so bright and cheery reaching out for somebody as dark looking like him. 

There were times when she would talk somebody’s ear off, but she would never do that to anyone apart from the people in the RFA. She was often quite shy and anxious. With Saeran, though... she was quiet and didn’t often press him for talk and chats. 

She seemed to understand that he really wasn’t much of a guy for chatting, and they both could just hang out without worrying about anything. Today was a little different though. 

He had walked in the room that she was sitting in, and noticed that she was crying. His body stiffened, and he felt rather uncomfortable. He knew that he could have directed somebody else to the situation but at the same time, he didn’t think he could make himself do that. 

He had been in that position too many times as a kid and nobody was there for him. Against the dread in his gut, he sat down next to her and didn’t say anything at first. She was clearly looking over at him. 

“S-Saeran?” 

“...Mmm.” 

“I wasn’t... cryin’... just got dust in my eyes.” 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want too,” he said, quietly. “I just figured you would feel better if you had some company.“

“...Thank you.” 

[onwesterlywinds]

One Last Step

So still this broken melody And therewith shoulder thee One last step only leaving An empty hearth down by the sea

Content warning for suicide. | Contains spoilers through 5.0.

I.

In the weeks before the Calamity, Ahtynwyb Eynskyfwyn often dreamt of a tempest of mythological proportions. In those dreams, the storm would bring itself to bear against the mighty cliffs of Quarterstone, upon which perched her grandparents' cabin. The seas would rise in a deafening pulse with waves fit to level any lesser artifice, breaking against the wall of stone and sending their spray up into the blustering sky.

And she would stand alone at the top of those cliffs and know, even in her dreams, that naught would ever be the same again.

II.

The Cabinet of Curiosities held a trove of books. Throughout her travels, throughout her journeys through ruins long forgotten and civilizations engulfed in war, she had wondered every now and again what works she would preserve if forced to do so - if the only remaining testaments to a culture were the things that she and others like her could carry on their backs and in their minds.

She had seen Doma's answer; Ala Mhigo's, too, was becoming clearer by the day. But the Crystarium's had taken her by surprise for the sheer breadth of it: thousands upon thousands of tomes encompassing the last vestiges of mankind. Each book contained not only knowledge, but the dreams of those who had carried it to safety and given it up for the betterment of all. Each book had been entrusted to the community and its future, free for any to peruse.

And after no more than a morning of taking stock of the catalog, Ahtyn left the library to explore the Crystal Exarch's private collection.

She scanned the topmost shelf in his study, her heart pounding in her ears, until she laid eyes upon a tome she'd spotted from afar earlier in the week. Though slightly shabbier around the edges, its pages far more yellowed than she had remembered, she could not have mistaken it for the world. Her feet carried her across the room in a daze. Once she lifted the book from on high, she massaged the intact spine; as she flipped through the volume leaf by leaf, she found not a single page missing.

No book in the Cabinet of Curiosities could mean as much to her as this one, for none of the books beyond this room had come from the Source. None of them had traveled across time and worlds in the very subject they depicted - the Crystal Tower - and not a single one had been her favorite companion as a child.

Her eyes filled with tears as they rested upon the opening lines:

Once upon a time, four young Warriors of Light journeyed forth to right the wrongs of Allag.

III.

It had been bound to happen sooner or later. Looking back, she had ignored all signs from the beginning that her first-ever adventuring party had not been meant to last. One of their number had an ego; another prioritized too many commitments back home; another found fault with everything the others did. Ahtynwyb, for her part, had spent too much of her time smoothing over the fissures emerging in their group with each passing day. Regardless of how or why they had gone their separate ways, the excuses for why they would never have been a team worthy of legend brought her no comfort.

And on a more practical note, her lack of a party left her that much further from entering the Binding Coil of Bahamut.

Though if she were in the Binding Coil, she thought, she wouldn't be able to see the stars over Silvertear. She could stare at that dusk sky forever, with its gathered clouds still purple-hued over the lake and the Crystal Tower shattering the horizon.

She would be inside that tower soon enough. That had to count for something.

"Ahtyn!"

Cid made to throw her some sort of bread but then, noticing the book in her hands, jogged it over to her instead. It was a flaky pastry the size of her face, wrapped in paper and filled with spiced vegetables and cheese. "Fresh from the Toll. Figured you could do with a pick-me-up after running around the lake all day."

"Thanks, Cid."

Either Cid hadn't yet seen her teary eyes, or he had enough grace not to comment on them. "What's that you're reading? Something of the Scions'?"

She shook her head. "No, I've had this one for a while. It was my grandpa's." She closed the pages on her index finger, the better for him to see the cover emblazoned with the very tower before them without losing her page. "Just some old stories. They're a little childish, but they've always been kinda nostalgic, you know?"

Cid let out a long, low whistle, then thumped her on the back a little harder than she had been expecting. "G'raha!"

From where he sat at the center of Saint Coinach's Find, the young man's ears perked up in the middle of his swig of ale; he jumped to his feet in a single fluid motion. "Y-Yes?"

"You said the key to the tower was in legends, yes? Something that the ancients wouldn't have thought to preserve via tomestones?" Cid beckoned G'raha over with a wave of his arm. "You're going to want to see this."

IV.

"Find what you were looking for, then, hero?"

She gave so great a start that she very nearly dropped her book. Emet-Selch leaned against the closed study door, examining a nearby desk and all the clutter the Exarch had left lying atop it. Ahtyn opened her mouth to tell him he wasn't supposed to be in there, then, given the nature of her own trespass, thought better of it.

"I did," she replied, cautious of the venom with which he spoke the word "hero." "And now I'm going to stay in here and read. Alone."

Emet-Selch cast a conspicuous glance at the tome's cover and heaved another of his sighs. "Hmph. How very tedious."

She pointedly ignored him and turned a page.

V.

"And you say this book has been in your family for generations?" Rammbroes murmured. He rubbed the back of his bald head, a sure sign that he was deep in thought.

G'raha Tia turned the book over to reexamine the front cover, even holding it up to where the tower stood to their north. It was a perfect representation, down to the positioning of each crystalline turret. "Despite the fact that the Crystal Tower has not been seen in millennia," he said, echoing Ahtyn's thoughts perfectly. He returned the book to her, bequeathing it as gently as one would hand over a tool of one's trade. "Could your family be descended from survivors of the Allagan Empire, perhaps?"

She shrugged. "I guess there's that chance, but... we're farmers on one side, and pirates on the other."

"After thousands of years, one could never truly know where one's ancestors-"

"What I meant was," she interrupted, "I think if we were descended from Allagans, we'd have way more family stories to tell about how we single-handedly saved the world."

G'raha squinted at her, then at Rammbroes, who was chuckling somewhere over her shoulder. "She's described Roegadyn culture in a nutshell for you," Rammbroes specified.

VI.

"But how can you throw together two whole worlds without things getting smushed?" she had asked her grandfather once during the climax of one of his stories. "Wouldn’t that hurt a lot of people?"

"Sometimes," he replied. "But other times, it’s just what everyone needs. Ye know what the stories say happens when there’s nothin’ but light. Sooner or later, the darkness comes back, and then what’re ye left with? Ye’ve got to have some some darkness to balance out that light once in a while, aye. Because it’s not light that brings the heroes home at the end, Liveen - it’s balance."

VII.

"What is it that so captivates you about that book, then?" Emet-Selch asked some twenty-odd pages later. She had no idea if he'd ever left the study at all - but strangely, even after his constant pestering in the Rak'tika Greatwood, she found him something of a welcome presence. There was, after all, no danger of him revealing her.

"It reminds me of my grandpa. And of a lot of friends."

He let out a noise that might well have been a yawn. "How quaint."

"I thought you were supposed to be a big fan of stories like this one."

"This may surprise you, but omniscience is not among my many talents. I'm afraid I don't know the first thing about it."

"Sprawling epics, dramatic motivations, tragic flaws. I thought Solus ate that shit up." The mention of that name caused him to stop examining his gloves and start actually looking at her. "At least," she continued, with some smugness, "that was what I heard on the Prima Vista."

Emet-Selch's lips twitched into a brief smile as he let out a barely perceptible chuckle, leaning to rest against the nearest wall with folded arms. "So my grandson's suspicions were well-founded: you did meet with Jenomis after all."

"I have."

"He spoke truly. I never will say no to a well-constructed story - particularly not from a master of their medium, as Jenomis is. It's fitting that you were able to bear witness to one of his performances. I can only imagine his resultant works will be better served for your collaboration."

Her eyes were too busy tracing the next line of text-

For why would the hero have thought to look for the villain in her own shadow?

-to immediately register Emet-Selch's words. By the time she did, they took her somewhat aback. "...I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

VIII.

"Hey. Alphinaud."

The crunching footsteps to her right slowed but did not halt. The fulm-deep Coerthan snow made it difficult for them to traverse side by side, but despite lacking her long stride, weather-resistant armor from the Crystal Tower and overall affinity for the cold, Alphinaud had always preferred to keep an even pace with her on the road whenever possible.

"You okay?"

Alphinaud did not stop, even surpassing her on the wooded trail. He made some small noise to indicate he was paying attention but otherwise did not turn to look at her.

"Don't worry. It should start to warm up once we get closer to Mor Dhona, especially around the next hill."

He gave another noncommittal nod, though he shivered a bit through his tunic.

"I wanted to ask you something," she continued. She followed in his steps, mostly so as not to leave him behind - but also, if she had learned anything over the past few weeks, it was that eyes and ears truly were everywhere, and that a misplaced shout could be fatal. "While it's just the two of us." The understanding that Haurchefant would be too overbearing to take part in such a delicate conversation would have to go implied.

"G-Go on," said Alphinaud.

"What Ilberd said, back at the Observatorium, about the prisoners he'd taken into custody." She waited. "About how they would be thoroughly interrogated."

"Do you find fault with his methods? If so, allow me to raise your concerns with him. I imagine he would be amenable to finding an alternative method of..." He trailed off, presumably to search for an acceptable word.

"Gathering intelligence?"

"Precisely."

"You're well within your rights to ask him what his methods actually are, Alphinaud," she said. "And to tell him to stop, if he goes further than you'd like. But if he's one man operating alone, without your oversight-"

"Thank you, my friend," Alphinaud snapped, "but I would rather we speak of something else for the remainder of our journey."

They continued their trek back to Mor Dhona in utter silence.

IX.

The waves over Quarterstone had ebbed since the Calamity, but the ocean still reached a far greater height than she remembered from her youth. She would never get used to such a view, even less so now that her grandparents' house no longer stood: it had been drawn over the cliffs not even a year after their family had relocated to Moraby, its foundations too weathered to withstand the constant onslaught from a changed world.

Grehswys merely sipped at her wine, looking as much at the road on which they had traveled as she was at the horizon they'd memorized throughout their shared childhood. At length, she passed the bottle over to Ahtyn, and she took as long of a swig as she could get away with.

"There's one thing I've come to appreciate about adventurers," her sister said. "You've learned how to talk about shite like this. Most of you, at least."

"What do you mean?"

"You've met folk from all over the world, right?"

"Right."

"So you've had to describe this to them, if it ever came up. What it meant to you, that is, and what it meant to lose it."

Ahtyn racked her brain and was surprised to recall several such conversations: with the Leveilleur twins, with Mupal, with Sairsel, with a full bar at the Sandsea on at least a couple occasions. For something that she had thought of as some great weight, she had brought up the topic more than she'd thought. "I... I guess so. Yeah."

Grehswys shrugged. "That's what's so horrid about staying here. We all went through it, but... we just keep it bottled up. A story everyone knows but never tells."

X.

The void was wearing on her in subtle ways. Or perhaps it was that the creatures she'd fought here had been stronger than any others she'd encountered throughout her adventures thus far.

But the Cloud of Darkness was fading with each passing second. Devoid of its summoned monsters, devoid of immediate purpose, the air in the void was beginning to grow stale - heavy. All around and above her lay a roaring expanse of abyss. It was dizzying to be so entrenched in the dark, save for a ripple of aurora to mark a semblance of light at the end of the tunnel, or a silver lining, or some other grandiose metaphor she didn't have the energy to engage with.

"Right," said Aoife Mahsa beside her, waving a hand in front of her own face. "So... what now."

Ahtyn took as deep of a breath as she could, though the burgeoning void was constricting her lungs with a sickly sweet sort of taste. "Find a way back to Hydaelyn," she said, and ran further toward the aurora. "I'll find G'raha and Nero!"

"Yes!" Aoife replied, bounding in front of her before she could protest. "WE find a way back to Hydaelyn, with G'raha and Nero! You're really on the ball, aye!"

"But Aoife-"

"Don't you 'but Aoife' me!" the bard scolded. "I'm not leaving you alone in here! Besides - if you got lost in the void, Cid and Baithin will each give me at least one lecture!"

Her eyes suddenly stung, and this time, she didn't have any light to blame it on. "Okay," she said, and stepped straight into the oblivion stretching out before them both. "So uh... dibs left void?"

XI.

Ahtyn knelt in the black sand to gather up the last of her belongings from the camp, the better to hide a sudden spike in her anxiety - the first distress she'd felt since wandering along the coast of Valnain more than a moon ago. With Ultima defeated and the Orbonne Monastery cleared of its haunts, Hrjt would have no cause to leave her home for the foreseeable future.

And Ahtyn had yet to overcome an inability to remain in touch.

Her movements stilled over her pack as she considered her impending return to the life of a solo traveler; then a slender finger tapped her twice on the shoulder. Ahtyn turned to find Hrjt's outstretched hand, and Eternal Wind clasped in it.

"You forgot this in my robes," Hrjt said.

There was such earnestness on her companion's face, without a hint of mischief or irony, that Ahtyn couldn't bite back her chuckle. "Okay, sorry. This isn't my strong suit."

"What isn't?"

"I should've just been direct. Hrjt, it's a gift."

"But-" The ends of Hrjt's ears twitched as she frowned. "Oh, no. I couldn't. You said this book was your favorite."

"It is! Which is why I think you should have it."

Hrjt gestured outward with her other hand - the one holding her staff - toward the remaining visible stretch of black coast. Through the heavy fog, Ahtyn could barely make out the dark tides forming a powerful rip current stretching far out into the Valnard Sea - and for once, the sight did not make her wistful for La Noscea.

"Ahtyn," said Hrjt, firmly. "This is how I live. I won't be able to keep it safe or dry with me."

"That's fine," she replied, even as the wind cast a fine spray across her cheek.

"You wouldn't wish to leave it to someone? A future child, or a pupil? Besides, what if I never have the chance to read it?"

"That's shite and you know it; you'll get at least four hundred more years than me."

"And what should happen if I'm instead captured by a voidsent and become lost to the lightless abyss forever?"

Recognizing her deadpan jest for what it was, Ahtyn grinned. "That's just depressing."

"There is, as you would say, a non-zero chance."

"Okay." Ahtyn held up both palms in surrender. "If you really aren't sure, I'll take it back."

She waited, unsure if she had been too pushy from the first. As Hrjt hesitated, her eyes gleamed with a sort of shyness Ahtyn had yet to see from her. "If you're sure... I'll keep it as safe as I am able. I promise."

"I'll visit you again soon," Ahtyn said, and meant it.

XII.

She could not reconcile the sight before her with the weeks of intimacy she had come to take for granted. The aether tugged at her senses; it sparked in the air like diamond dust as Ysayle Dangoulain made her descent against the sickly green sky. She fell faster than gravity, faster than flight. And yet time itself slowed as Ahtyn watched her from the airship, with Cid's hands pulling her back at the arms and the sounds of her own screams deafened in her ears.

She had never, never been able to reconcile the vibrant woman she'd come to know with the dead-eyed primal she had once fought, so long ago, when she'd still been convinced that doing so would bring about Eorzea's salvation. For all of Shiva's conjured majesty, she could convey none of her ideals except to those already devoted. They had had countless conversations during their Dravanian journeys; they had spoken in Ishgardian and Common and tongues long since lost to other mortals, sharing in the wonder of their blessing and burden, partaking together in the joys of being understood as equals. Shiva's summoner was far more wondrous bereft of her power. Ahtyn doubted, even now, that the same could be said of herself.

It was none of it fair. Ysayle was not meant to be the one to fall-

The hull of the Agrius froze, then shattered, then exploded - and soon the flames from the dreadnought's engine melted every last trace of ice. Ysayle's aether, too, was beyond her reach forever.

XIII.

"There are so many things I don't understand," said the young Minfilia, staring out across the hillside at the ribbons of Light pouring over Lyhe Ghiah. "But most of all, I've been wondering... how you manage to do it all on your own."

It was a question she'd been asked time and time again - only this time, she didn't wave away the girl's concerns. She didn't deflect with humility, insisting that the Scions had been at her side all the while or some such. Someday Minfilia would have to tread this same path, as her namesake had before her. Honesty would be the kindest possible gift.

"Well," she began, and the word hung in the air for a little while. "It helps that I've always been the type to want to save the world. Even when I was your age. Mostly I wanted someone, anyone, somewhere down the line, to know that someone tried to make things just a little bit better." She didn't say that when she was Minfilia's age, that desire had usually manifested as an abstract, foolhardy vision of self-sacrifice. "And when it's something you've grown up feeling, when it's that innate to you-" Twelve, and she thought she'd had it bad with merely a preference for books; from what Urianger had divulged, Minfilia had spent her childhood locked in a tower with only a name and a responsibility. "-it's usually less about finding the will to go on and more about... not burning yourself out, or spreading yourself too thin. I'd say that's the hardest part."

Minfilia nodded in the direction of her knees. "It must be difficult," she murmured. "Thancred's told me only a little of what you've done, but I... I can't begin to imagine it."

"It helps when you can be yourself in the day-to-day," she admitted. "Though of course, that's much easier said than done." It was why she had never come around to feeling comfortable in Ishgard: the more Edmont and Aymeric and all the rest came to revere her, the more she wondered if any of them had ever truly known her. "Aside from that, I try to vouch for others as often as I can. It relieves some of the pressure, it helps make some real allies, and... and sometimes it gives people another hero to focus on for a bit. Much as people don't want to hear it, it's not healthy to rest all your hopes and dreams on one person."

From beside her, Minfilia took in a deep, shuddering breath.

"D-Don't get me wrong," Ahtyn stammered. "I'm not saying I think everyone has to be strong enough to look after themselves. That's not a charitable way to think about things, and it doesn't account for all the people who haven't had a choice - like people from occupied territories." She was rambling now. "And there are some real advantages to having a single hero, like being able to take decisive action when it matters most. But I've seen it go wrong: once people get it in their heads that one person, one being can fix all of their problems, they'll go to all sorts of lengths to make it true."

She breathed in deeply, staring hard at the Light. "And honestly, I thought it would be different here in the First, when I heard people resented their Warriors of Light. I thought it'd mean they'd rely less on heroes and more on each other. But I still see it with the Exarch, and with you, and-"

She took one look at Minfilia's wide eyes and finally had the sense to curb her thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to get so heavy, and none of this is your problem, and... and I don't know how much it makes sense. Long story short, it's just... it's something that gets me because it's..."

"...Because it's not fair," Minfilia finished.

XIV.

Ahtyn had come face to face with a siren before - the creatures that sang to sailors of their purported destinies. Once she had seen a captain walk into a siren's arms against the heeding of his crewmen, and the gory aftermath that had come of that scene had haunted her dreams for nearly a week. And as a song foretelling her own destiny rang out through the reaches of Azys Lla, she wished she could know its promises to be false.

The Goddess regarded her with heavy-lidded, dispassionate eyes.

It’s not light that brings the heroes home at the end, Liveen.

And then the scales tipped.

For a moment she was weightless. She fell through the golden air, watching Sophia grow ever further from her. When the others righted, she did not; with another lurch, with her own balance stymied, she tipped backward over the edge.

"AHTYN!"

A hand, small but strong, grabbed her at the wrist. It hoisted her, perhaps with the added strength of others, upwards and upwards until her feet regained their purchase on the platform and A'zaela Linh's worried face returned into view.

"Thanks!" she called. Sylvan Rain and Crimson Bull were holding off the primal in her momentary absence, pushing back against the Goddess' Daughter with their shoulders and no shortage of will to keep her from reaching Arae'sae and Nivelth. And still, for a moment, she merely stood. For the briefest of instants, the primal's call had granted her a vision clearer even than the Echo, though now it faded from her like water in her hands. She made to charge and then, in a terrifying second, realized she could not find her shield; only when A'zaela handed it back to her did she raise her sword to provoke the Goddess to face her again.

"How's that for judgment?!" she cried. "Now come and get me!"

XV.

No one spoke in the Ocular. Not even a plate of the Exarch's famous sandwiches could tempt them into conversation after their discoveries in the Qitana Ravel. For all their earlier bickering, Y'shtola and Thancred cast identical glowers of fatigue. Alisaie sat cleaning her rapier with single-minded dedication; Alphinaud paced from one end of the hall to the other. Urianger thumbed through a tome Ahtyn didn't recognize from the Exarch's private library. Minfilia pivoted her gaze from one Scion to the next, always folding and refolding her hands in her lap.

"Maybe this is hypocritical," Ahtyn said at length. "But I don't think this really changes anything."

They all turned to her.

It was wishful thinking, but if she had to continue to ponder in silence the possibility that she could be tempered, she would likely lose her mind.

"I agree," drawled Emet-Selch from out of nowhere behind her. "Listen to the hero. Continue your course." He took a bite of a sandwich and, presumably unsatisfied, set it back down onto the tray. Only Minfilia had the energy to glare at him.

"What I mean is," she continued aggressively, "if it's true that Hydaelyn is a primal, then anything we do to try to change or mitigate that fact could have serious consequences for the Source, if not other worlds."

Urianger nodded his agreement. "This matter requireth deliberations with our esteemed colleagues in the Source."

She opened her mouth to promise that she would raise the topic as soon as she could, but the Light suddenly heaved in her chest. The wave of nausea cut off any of the promises she might have made, any reassurances that the foundations of their worldview would remain intact.

XVI.

Even with the power surging around and through him, she held out a hand. She held out a hand as though doing so could undo all that he had schemed and dealt throughout the past half year, as though she could pull him from that precipice through her own sheer will.

Instead Ilberd Feare stared directly into her eyes, his eerie grin widening, as he stretched out the hands that held the eyes of Nidhogg and leaned further and further backward-

"COWARD!" Alphinaud screamed.

The Griffin gave one last tip of his head - a nod in her direction, it seemed - and she was seized with a horrific calm as he fell from Baelsar's Wall.

XVII.

The knock, quick and quiet, came upon her inn room door at nearly three in the morning. She staggered out of bed in a flash, halfway to grabbing her pauldrons. It could only be another Eulmoran attack, or some other initiative that required her urgent participation, and Captain Lyna would just have to get over her dishevelment. Then she threw open the door and found Alisaie in a robe and nightgown, carrying a pillow.

"May I borrow your floor?" Alisaie asked, conveying somewhat more consciousness than Ahtyn had expected, given the hour.

"Uh, yeah," she grumbled, albeit before she'd fully processed the question. "Of course."

Alisaie slipped inside, kicking off her slippers with enough force for them to land yalms apart. "It seems neither Alphinaud nor I can sleep. Only he insisted on making cocoa, and conversation-" Ahtyn could not determine from Alisaie's tone which of these she held in greater disdain. "-and I simply didn't have the heart to tell him I wasn't remotely interested."

Despite the proposal she'd agreed to, Ahtyn shepherded Alisaie toward her bed and took the floor for herself. There was more than enough room for them to share the mattress; then again, she had experienced all too often Alisaie's sleep-kicking during their expeditions in Gyr Abania and the Far East, when she or Lyse would have to share accommodations with her. The sight of the smallest among them enjoying her own sleeping mat was one that had never failed to bring Gosetsu to fits of his boisterous laughter. One by one, the memories of their adventures flickered through her head, bringing with them the crushing realization of how much of Alisaie's life she had missed while they had been worlds apart.

With the both of them settled and the lights long extinguished, Ahtyn whispered, "How are you holding up, really?"

She had expected a groan of frustration, or a muttered curse. Instead, Alisaie rolled over and stared in the general direction of her voice. "As always, I'm worried for you. ...I suppose that's why I can't sleep."

XVIII.

Her first thought, exhausted as she was from the interdimensional battle with Shinryu and the mere sight of Zenos lying dead in a pool of his own blood, was that Lyse looked beautiful with her arm stretched aloft. Her second thought was that Lyse had an incredible singing voice, and so did Ashelia Riot, though the latter was leaning the entirety of her weight against her husband and trying to look inconspicuous while doing so.

And as she stared out from atop the ramparts of Cotter Tor, she had never been prouder to stand among a crowd. For once, for once, all was put to rights. She did not quite know how she had come to stand here, beside Arenvald and the pennant, with a throng of Ala Mhigans far below. Between her and those people - the people whom she had played her own part in protecting - there lay a drop of half a thousand fulms.

"Ahtyn!" Lyse clasped her from behind at the shoulders, giving her a little shake to pull her from her reverie. The others behind her had begun to disperse back into the royal palace. "We're regrouping back at Porta Praetoria. Unless you need a minute?"

She shook her head. Better to look into Lyse's eyes than to peer into that empty, dawn-hued sky; better to have Lyse's hands on her than to trust in her own feet not to take her over the edge.

XIX.

It was easiest to take hold of his hand, crystalline though it was. They both needed the fresh air, but there was little to be found, even on the tall cliffs of Kholusia: she could scarcely smell the sea over the tinny smog from the dwarven forges.

But the Exarch did not appear to mind. He recovered slowly but steadily from his moment of collapse, his breathing growing more and more regular the longer they shared their simple contact.

"Construction on the Talos is proceeding apace?" he asked.

She nodded. They lapsed then into an easy, comfortable silence, presiding together over the Light-strewn sky. Soon, if all went as planned, that Light would be gone - contained amongst the vast sea already rising within her.

"It still doesn't feel right to me," she said at last. "None of this does, without the wind."

The Exarch's face gave no movement that she could see, but she could sense the smile in his words. "Then if you have a moment yet to spare, I would ask you to indulge me with a tale from your people - Eternal Wind, wasn't it?" As he turned to her then, she could see his grin in full. "Perhaps it would put both our hearts at ease, given the impending juncture."

It did not matter that he could easily have known of her connection to that book through any of the Scions, or learned it from gazing through the rift to the Source.

She knew then who he was for certain.

Her grip on his hand had grown so tight that it had begun to ache against the crystal. "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."

And then she burst into tears.

"Oh, no no no," G'raha Tia murmured. His hood visibly shifted as his ears went flat. He reached out with his free hand, his hand of flesh, as if to touch her shoulder; instead, his hand lingered somewhere above her pauldron. "I'm so sorry, my friend; I-I never meant to-"

"I just-" She was sobbing now, as hard as she had cried alone at the banks of Silvertear Lake after she and the rest of NOAH had said their farewells to him. "Whatever happens next - no matter how it all ends - I want you to know h-how much it means to me. All hundred years of it! Everything you've done, everything you've been through... gods!"

He did not confirm her praise. As she rested her head upon his shoulder, still weeping for him alone to see, he laid his own head against her - his lips brushing mutely against her temple.

XX.

Tucked three-quarters of the way into Eternal Wind lay a strip of dyed Dalmascan paper, with words written lengthwise upon it in a hasty scrawl:

For the Ironworks.

May her light guide our journey home.

Hrjt Brotin

XXI.

"My dear, beloved sapling," Feo Ul crooned.

But she was beyond such praises now. All the different parts of her lay fractured. Here, atop the watchtower and brimming with sacrifice, she was neither savior nor warrior nor woman. She could not be anything, let alone the one thing she needed to be. She could scarcely maintain her consciousness without focus, let alone a process of thought, let alone the weight of her disparate memories. She was fit for nothing save destruction, save an Ascian's machinations.

"You are lost - confused - and have precious little time to gather your wits."

Time was not what she needed. Oh, to rule from Lyhe Ghiah forever would be a wondrous dream, a blissful reprieve - and yet it would be an ending, and one she was unworthy of at that.

"Stand very, very still," said the king. "Think not of where you need to go, but where you are right now at this moment. At this time, in this place..."

Ahtyn breathed in deeply. She let Feo Ul's words flow over her, like a steady breeze to greet the waves of Light breaking over the ramparts of her body. A single tear slipped down her cheek; Feo Ul swiped it away with the point of a single finger. The gesture, surprising in its intimacy, provoked an unexpected chuckle.

"I'm still here," she whispered. "And I still have you." And the twins, and Ryne, and all the other Scions. Her family, Hrjt, every friend whom she had ever known and loved. G'raha. "I know what comes next. But I'm... I'm so afraid, right now. And it feels silly to be so afraid." What would happen to the Light if she burst from all the fear and sadness and guilt?

Feo Ul shook their head. "It isn't silly at all at all, my sapling. But as you set off for who knows where, making even more of a mess of that aether of yours - remember that you have withstood this before, and you will surely do so again." They laid their hands upon her cheeks, flitting close enough to touch their tiny forehead against hers. "And know too that for all the miseries you have endured, you give back joy in equal measure."

XXII.

[Let us debate today the topic of our colleague's newest collection.]

The tide of Light had carried her to the deepest reaches of the Tempest, to a place where shades treated her as one might treat a misbehaving child. She sat staring at her own feet in the Hall of Rhetoric, a means of grounding herself against the aether's pull.

The masked, robed figure sitting opposite her gave a grandiose gesture with his arms. [It is an outrage, and a danger to young ones such as our guest.]

[The work is certainly unconventional,] his identical partner agreed. [Yet a danger? It inflicts no pain, and it neither incites nor promotes harmful behaviors.]

[It serves as a call to action and is therefore inflammatory by its very nature and purpose. Its themes are like to instill ideals of nonconformity within the most impressionable.]

[My friend,] the masked figure beside Ahtyn said, [it sounds to me as though you oppose the mere idea of this work. Have you yet read it?]

[Er... no. I have not. But I have heard enough from those I trust to know that it challenges the very fabric of the society we all labor so hard to uphold.]

[And yet these trusted friends and many other noble souls have read it, and are presumably no less patriotic for having done so. It seems to me, therefore, that this work is but a touchstone for a broader debate: that of censorship, and if some individual ideas deserve to be curbed in order to better provide for the needs of all.]

[What's this work about?] Ahtyn asked. She could not follow the conversation, even as she recognized each and every one of the arguments they made.

The figure across from her held a finger to his lips but otherwise ignored her. [You know I am all in favor of creation as self-expression,] he insisted. [But creation necessitates responsibility. We employ the Bureau of Architects to ensure that a patent is not accessible to those of insufficient skill and understanding. There is no such way to determine whether ideas could or should be similarly judged to ensure that those of weaker wills do not take it upon themselves to... to act upon ideas which they do not fully understand.]

[You raise a valuable point, my friend,] the specter beside her acquiesced. [Perhaps we shall discuss this matter with Emet-Selch. He is ever impartial with moral quandaries such as this.]

With their final debate settled, with their purpose served, the two figures faded into peaceful obscurity.

XXIII.

"You truly don't remember."

The more the Light surged within her, the more she wanted to, even as she feared what else that remembrance might bring. Her ramparts already threatened to crumble amidst the Ascian's private hell; were they to fall now, were the Light to overtake her, she would be lost.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, girl."

The words filled her with rage, as they always had, but neither could she tie them to any particular memory - and so she stared up, trying to summon anything more than a growl of pain in her throat.

"Well, retorts never were your forte." Emet-Selch knelt, the better to grasp her chin and tilt her face up toward his, forcing eye contact. Beads of sweat borne from pain obscured her eyes, nearly blotting out her vision. "And neither was irony, apparently. That you of all people should forget."

A new crop of Light rose in her gut, burning like bile as she spat it out onto Emet-Selch's Garlean boots. "Tell me." For words meant as an order, they rang pathetic from her lips. "Tell me who I was." Who I am.

He rolled his eyes and stood, dragging her up only part of the way before releasing her to crumple once again onto the crystal floor. "You were full of potential, most of it wasted. Just as you are now." He swept an arm wide, across where she lay half-broken upon the cold aetheric surface. "You could have been something, had you applied yourself - had you cared one whit beyond your own stupid dreams! You could have saved all of us. But no!"

"What did I do?" For whatever great sin she had committed, she had no doubt that it contributed in no small way to these people's destruction.

Emet-Selch's arms fell; his shoulders slumped. "What did you do?" he repeated, incredulous.

When he turned, he turned to face her without a hint of mischief in his eyes - only a mad grief.

"You created stories. Long, long ago, you wove a tale about a hero's journey - and from that tale sprang every other legend of heroes and journeys these sundered worlds have ever known."

The next breath she drew in was painless, steadying. Filling.

Emet-Selch drew himself up to his full height, coughing into his fist before adopting an orator's pose. "'A hero leaves her home, with the knowledge that naught will ever be the same again. She is tested, time and again - by monsters, by enemies, by allies, by the great and irrevocable struggles taking place in the world and in herself. She endures an ordeal graver than any other, something she has worked towards perhaps without ever knowing it, and in so doing sacrifices a part of herself. And when she returns home, if she returns home, she is changed - not in the way she hoped but in the way she needed.'" He sneered down at her, at the Light pouring out from her. "Is this the glorious homecoming you always imagined, my dear? Is this the necessary change you so envisioned for yourself, at long last... Sappho?"

Over the Light, over even the humiliation and fear and regret, that name triggered within her an ancient knowing. She staggered to her feet. Cold, unfeeling aether burst from her spine like wings, like a Passage of Arms given form.

The others could not save her now, for there could be no saving her. For all her insistences, she was the only one. There could only be this end - her end.

"You could have saved them!" Emet-Selch screamed, even as she transformed further into the broken creature he had sought for his own ends. "It was not enough for us to beg to you, oh, no. You decided you alone wanted no part in creating our savior, our god. And so we were left to summon Zodiark without your guidance."

He laughed so loudly and for so long that the sound doubled him over, even as she found the will to stand tall. By the time he composed himself once more, his voice was as soft as death.

"But you were correct on one point," he seethed. "My world will have no need for heroes."

XXIV.

At the end of days, the world needed a hero. Amaurot had chosen Zodiark.

Against her fears, against her protestations, the ritual would be performed on the morrow.

She stared down at the burning city, at the end of days. She wished she could evoke pity or grief for her people. She wished she could summon anything but her own worthless guilt.

A stillness emanated from the horizon, the first vestiges of Zodiark's lightless dawn. She tore off her mask to greet it.

They had used her own words to justify it. At the end of days, a savior comes. Would that she had never written at all.

With that thought etched into her mind, Sappho stepped from Amaurot's tallest cliff.

XXV.

"This world is not yours to end." Ahtynwyb Eynskyfwyn, the Queen Light, drew her sword against the Dark. "This is our future. Our story."

"Very well," said Hades. "Let us proceed to your final judgment. The victor shall write the tale, and the vanquished become its villain!"

???

And when she sat down upon her bed, aching and purposeful and devoid of every last obligation but one, she opened up a spare notebook to its first page and wrote:

Once upon a time, a young Warrior of Light journeyed forth into a realm reborn.

I tell you someone will remember us in the future.

-Sappho, Sapphic Fragment 2

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars IV (Harry Potter xFem!Oc)

A/N: Next to writing in another language, writing Hagrid’s dialogues is a nightmare. So, I just did it as little as possible though I love him so much.

Words: 2,449

Warnings: None!

Previous chapter // Next chapter

Chapter Four: Rubeus Hagrid.

The next days were horrid, it had been years since she had felt so powerless, locked in her house with no one to play, even worse, knowing Harry had been kidnapped by the Dursleys. Her mum was anxious too, but she was better at hiding it. From time to time she would go over to the window and look around, Mel knew she was looking for an owl.

Then, on the evening of the second day, a loud bang on the door made them jump from their seats. Emily stood up and opened the door, gasping at the sight in front of her.

"Hagrid, what are you doing here?" A man, taller than anyone she'd ever known, was standing in the doorway, hair rustled and beard long and messy.

"Dumbledore," He said in a deep, rusty voice, "sent me"

"Why?" The woman asked, "Harry's not here!"

"He thought that Mel might wan' to come!" He exclaimed cheerfully.

His eyes looked around the room and landed on the little girl, hiding behind the sofa.

"Well look at yeh, Mel!" He laughed, "Look at yeh! Yeh've grown!"

"Do I know you?" She asked.

"He saw you when you were a baby," Her mother moved away from the door so he could come in, looking more tired than before, "he's an old friend"

"Oh," She said, standing up from the sofa, "nice to meet you, uh..."

"Rubeus Hagrid," The man walked up to her with heavy steps that made the whole house tremble, "keeper of keys in Hogwarts, bet yeh know about tha' now"

"I know about Hogwarts," Mel nodded, pleased to recognize the name.

"Hagrid," Emily closed the door, "I'm sorry, but did you just say that you're here to take Mel?"

"If yeh allow," Hagrid smiled, putting his hands inside his coat, "if not, I still wanted to deliver this to dear ol' Mel. Yeh turned eleven this month, don' think I forgot!"

He handed her a box filled with strange candies that she couldn't wait to eat.

"Can I go?" She asked her mother, "I promised Harry I would help!"

"I... I don't know," Emily looked over to Hagrid, "you know where Harry is?"

"Yes," He nodded, "we'll be there in no time"

"You have to be careful," She replied, "please Hagrid, the kids..."

"Dumbledore trust me," He made a careless movement with his hand that almost knocked off the lamp, "yeh'll have yer daughter back safe an' soun"

"I'll be good, I promise," Mel jumped, holding tightly to her mother's wrist, "Please?"

"I'll have to talk with Dumbledore one of these days," She huffed, "He keeps forgetting who is your tutor"

"That means I can go?" Mel held her breath.

"Bloody-" Emily groaned in frustration, passing a hand through her hair, "put on your coat and listen to everything Hagrid tells you. If you disobey you won't be going to any fun trips again."

Mel let out a short squeal and hugged her mother.

It was hard to tell exactly what thing impressed her most: Hagrid or his motorcycle. The trip was wonderful, he answered to every question the little girl had on her mind since Dumbledore's visit.

She learned many things that day, not only about the school but about how the wizards and witches behaved, she wanted to know how to act around others, she wanted to be prepared.

"My mum said she kept me away because of the rumors about my father's family," She frowned, "you know those rumors?"

Hagrid groaned.

"What yeh hav' to know Mel, is tha' Dumbledore is one of the most powerful an' bright of al' the wizardin' community. Many folks feel threaten' by it. Yeh should never feel bad abou' the family yeh come from. Not even once."

Mel nodded, although Hagrid hadn't answered her question.

"Yer a lot like Matt," He said after a few minutes had passed, "he always asked questions 'bout everything. Smart ones. He was bright, that one. Yeh have the same look as him and Dumbledore, but those are Em's eyes. Tho' yeh have his smile too"

Mel didn't know how to respond to that. She hadn't seen any pictures of her father, but she felt happy to find out that she was similar to him. A sting of annoyance went through her heart as thinking of all the years she spent away from where she truly belonged.

They got closer to what it seemed a place taken directly from a horror movie.

"Is Harry there?" She asked in disbelief.

"His relatives sure are odd, aren' they?"

"They treat Harry very poorly," Mel shook her head in discontent.

"Do they?" Hagrid frowned, "Would yeh mind telling me more?"

Mel told him everything she knew about the Dursley, watching as the anger grew inside Hagrid.

"We'll fix this al'right," was all he said.

When they landed outside the little cottage, Mel prepared herself for what was about to happen.

"Is midnight," Hagrid said, "Harry just turned eleven"

And without adding to it, he knocked loudly on the door.

'BOOM!'

He knocked again, getting no answer.

He stepped back and said:

"Careful," And knocked down the door.

Mel jumped at the sound of the wood hitting the ground. Hagrid walked in and she followed, holding to his sleeve tightly, drenched from the storm. He lifted the door back in its frame. Mel remained behind his arm, cold, she moved along as he turned to face the Dursleys.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

He moved heavily towards the couch, she moved slightly away from his body, looking around. Harry was right in front of them.

As Hagrid forced Dudley to get up by sitting on the sofa, she ran to her friend.

"Harry!" She gave him a tight hug, "I told you I would find you!"

She heard a loud gasp on her right, when she looked up she saw Mrs. Dursley staring at her with wide eyes.

Well, she won't be able to hide her oddness anymore.

"An' here's Harry!" Hagrid exclaimed, "Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got your mother's eyes."

Hagrid then had a little discussion with Mr. Dursley that ended up in Hagrid destroying the rifle and calling him names. Petunia Dursley was horrified, she kept mumbling, 'not her, not her...' as if Mel being a witch was the same as having a terminal disease.

"How..?" Harry whispered in stunned wonder.

Mel moved away, so happy that she couldn't stay still.

"He went for me so we could find you."

"Harry," Hagrid had his attention back to them, "A very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

Hagrid dug into his coat and pulled a box, this one a bit more damaged than Mel's. Harry took it and opened with trembling hands, inside there was a cake with 'Happy Birthday' written with green icing.

Harry looked up to Hagrid and asked.

"Who are you?"

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

Mel was ecstatic, this was really happening! Soon enough Harry would know everything. Hagrid and Harry shook hands (more like Hagrid almost ripped Harry's arm) and then added:

"What about that tea then, eh? I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind"

Mel stifled her laugh with a hand, watching as Hagrid quietly prepared the tea. She crossed her legs and waited patiently, amused at how easily Hagrid could scare the Dursleys. Hagrid passed her and Harry warm sausages and she took one of them, biting into the food with a hunger she didn't even know she had.

"I'm sorry," Said Harry after a moment, "but I still don't really know who you are."

"Call me Hagrid, everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course"

Mel frowned, hadn't Dumbledore told him all the issue with the Dursleys? If not, then Hagrid was in for a treat.

"Er- no" Harry admitted, "sorry"

"Sorry?" Hagrid turned to look at the Dursleys, "it's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learnt it all?"

"All what?" asked her friend innocently.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid stood up suddenly, causing Mel to drop the last bit of her food.

Hagrid was angry, and though he looked pretty scary, Mel had to cover her mouth again to hide her giggles. It wasn't a funny subject, but she couldn't help herself.

"DURSLEY!" Hagrid seemed to think it over, going back to Harry, "but yeh must know about yer mum and dad. I mean, they're famous, you're famous."

"What?" He then looked at Mel, "My- my mum and dad weren't famous, were they?"

That did take her by surprise, Mel hadn't heard about that specific thing at all.

"I don't know," She replied, "my mum never mentioned..."

"Yeh don't know," Hagrid seemed deeply affected by the news, "yeh don't know... yeh don't know what yeh are?"

"Stop!" Exclaimed Mr. Dursley suddenly.

There were a few screams here and there until Hagrid lost his patience.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," He turned to face the kids, "Harry, yer a wizard."

Mel stopped moving.

Finally.

"I'm a what?" asked Harry.

Things happened fast. Hagrid handed him the letter and he quietly read it, Harry asked about the owl and Hagrid pulled a real, angry-looking owl -Had it been there the whole time?- from one of his pockets, and wrote a little note like her mother had done a few days prior.

Then he went back to the sofa and Mr. Dursley said he wouldn't let Harry go, and well, Hagrid called him something neither Mel or Harry understood.

"A what?" They asked in unison.

"A muggle" Repeated Hagrid.

Muggle. Mel didn't think it was proper to go around calling every non-magical person like that, but she would be more than happy to address the Dursleys as big ol' muggles from now on.

Then things stopped being funny all of a sudden. Mrs Dursley had an outburst and completely confessed every little nagging detail about Lily's (Harry's mum) past. Blown up, she said, was the way she had died.

Mel knew a total of three things about her father so far:

·They had the same smile.

·He was a curious man, always asking smart questions.

·He died thanks to Voldemort.

So when Harry asked what had really happened with his parents, she understood his shook, all his life living in a lie was infuriating. They knew so little about their families it felt like a cruel joke.

Mel didn't feel like laughing anymore.

"But what happened to Vol- sorry, to You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful- Why'd he go? Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back."

"-Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on – I dunno what it was, no one does – but somethin' about you stumped him, all right"

"I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

Hagrid chuckled.

'Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared, or angry?'

Harry shared a look with Mel, who smiled shyly.

"You..?" He didn't finish the question, but he didn't have to.

"I kept it a secret a few days because they asked me to," She assured him, "I didn't know until Dumbledore- he's my uncle, you know- he came into my house and explained it to me. My mum was pissed about it, and they made me promise I wouldn't tell"

"Why?"

"I don't know," She frowned, "I wanted to tell you. I didn't like lying to my best friend."

"You're also a... a witch?"

Mel nodded.

"I would show you my letter, but I left it at home."

Harry looked back at Hagrid, now smiling widely. Hagrid returned the expression.

"See?' said Hagrid, "Harry Potter, not a wizard – you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts. Both of you."

But Mr. Dursley wasn't having any of it. He started another argument with Hagrid, this time insulting Dumbledore. Hagrid lost control, affected by the words, he grabbed a hold of his umbrella and with a swift movement, gave Dudley a tail. A pig's tail, to be precise.

"Merlin's beard!" Mel exclaimed, deciding that it was about time she started to grow accustomed to the usual lingo of wizards and witches.

Hagrid apologized for losing his temper, he wasn't allowed to do magic since he got expelled in his third year at Hogwarts, he didn't explain why. He handed his coat to Mel and Harry so they could sleep in it, warning them about the dormice.

The children didn't mind one bit, they were glad Hagrid had come to the rescue.

Next Chapter —>

[faunusrights]

Hey so... How do you like... Find character voices, tones and speech patterns or mannerism for your characters? Especially with so any variations on the same cast members? I really admire it, and am having trouble doing it for a story I've had outlined and a cast I've had set for years, but now the writing time cometh and I cannot for the life of me put dialogue to any of this.

WOOF this is a Big Ol Question but i will do my best to explain how i work 😞🤙 the art of dialogue is a careful one and entirely too much practice BUT we will push on

as such, stickin this under a cut

so i’m opening up with a quick flex on y’all: my dialogue is the one of very few things that was always very Good abt my writing (to the point that in uni it was one of those things ppl never even bothered commenting on cause they were like ‘idk i cant make it better lmao’) SO ive been doing dialogue for YONKS and at this point i dont rly have to Think abt it so much as just. do it. lmao

but one of the reasons i got Good was because an a monotone autistic kid i spent a lot of my early years like... listening to how ppl spoke and mimicking it because yall i used to talk At The Same Speed In The Same Tone At One Hell Of A Lick for years and tryna sound normal took me just shutting tf up and having a good listen to how other people spoke, which is my first tip: listen to people!! sit in a discord chatroom!! listen to convos in a coffee bar!! be nosy and listen in on convos!! humans r VERY GOOD at talking and we love 2 do it and theres so many types of dialogue to listen out for that will help u get better!

the other tip is thinking a lot abt personality and how that shines thru; every person i write is a very different person to the character next to them, and how they are effects how they verbalise shit; let’s take, for instance, yang and weiss, yeah?

YANG comes from a backwater island off the coast of vale; it’s a rural, outdoorsy farming community that’s very tight-knit and quite remote, which means a few things for yang’s speech patterns. ONE is that she talks in a dialect native to patch, which is a more drawl-y (yet surprisingly staccato) version of vale’s accent. it’s also SLATHERED in local slang and terms that any valian will be thoroughly unfamiliar with. we’re thinking of a mix of rural southern america and also somehow californian/australian surfer dude stereotypes??? it’s a WILD mix.

WEISS comes from the very high-class, very technologically-advanced and Strict society of atlas, which has scandinavian/germanic origins! her speech is very measured and very articulate, given the high standard of education she’s been subjected to, and her atlesian accent (again, very german-esque) can be suppressed very well in the right crowd to better fit in (tho it shows when she gets Angery). she rarely uses slang, she’s speaks very clearly, and it’s all very... prescriptive, yeah?

so yang and weiss have literally two OPPOSITE ways of speaking, built in entirely different communities for very different NEEDS and personalities. of course they dont sound like each other; it’s not just a change of location, but a change of person. even if weiss had lived on patch and yang in atlas, what you could guarantee is that weiss could still be a stickler for grammar and yang would still learn all the slang that’s used in atlas/mantle/solitas, right?

this same process can be done for any character; ruby’s manic and talks REALLYREALLYREALLY QUICKLY CAUSE SHE HAS SO MUCH TO SAY AND IF YOU STOP HER SHE’LL FORGET WHAT SHE WAS SAYING AND THEN SHE WON’T REMEMBER AND IT’LL BUG HER ALL DAY SO PLEASE LET HER JUST JUST THIS ONE REALLYREALLYREALLY LONG THOUGHT OUT FIRST PLEASE HANG ON JUST A MOMENT--

but blake is very sort of. laid back and chilled and brooding and considering revolution so for them, they speak less often, and usually in much more succinct thoughts: we’ll see a lot of one-word answers, a lot of bluntness. of course, this backfires when theyre trying to be genuine because sometimes it gets in the way! of course, compared to, say, tribelands blake, who is chieftain and is REQUIRED to be more articulate, we see a blake who is still calm and collected and therefore they speak rarely with error. all very thoughtful, a lot more like weiss.

of course, thats not even going into how they TEXT as seen in frapp logs (since how someone speaks and how someone TEXTS is like, two diff ways for speaking) which is a whole other kettle of fish that’s still impacted by a BUNCH of other factors!

dialogue, when boiled down, is basically just an extension of a character’s personality -- and it’s an IMPORTANT aspect of their personality, because speaking is how we impart a lot of our ideas and thoughts into a space that other people can, uh, interpret! a character is, ultimately, a bunch of concepts that form a person, and when they speak is when those concepts are on show for everyone to see! so WHAT those ideas are and HOW they envision those ideas informs the way their dialogue will function. are they like ruby, who thinks twice as quickly as she can get the ideas out of her mouth? are they like blake, who likes to mull things over before jumping to conclusions (unlike theyre impassioned, of course)? are they like weiss, who had her way of speaking beaten into shape by academia? or are they like yang, who speaks in a way that best allows her to connect with her community and her people? these are all distinct people and ideas!

a good way to test if theyre distinct in your writing is to write down a transcript w/o any tags or names, and see if people can tell you how many characters are in that conversation. the most distinct their voice (even if they use similar words or one another), the better chance you have at having characters with distinct speaking methods. consider every word! consider every phrase! everybody approaches speaking differently!

[lavellens]

about my oc:

Tagged by @rebelvakarian​​, thank u rebel ilysm!!!♥♥♥♥

I decided to do this about one of my Inquisitors, Vesryn! (cause i love him so much like??? my son.) 

I’ll be tagging: @liveinthehills @themalkavians​ @trvelyans​ @lavellane​ @elfgremlin @drthamen @trash-effect and whoever else wants to (& pls tag me cause i would love to read about your bbs uwu)

(I decided to gif this one clip that ive had sitting in a folder for like...months lol)

GENERAL

Name: Vesryn Pavus 

Alias(es): Era’Harel, Inquisitor, Trouble (Varric) 

Gender: Male

Age: 29 at the start of Inquisition, 30 by the end. 32 in Trespasser. (Born 9:12 Dragon) 

Place of birth: The Free Marches 

Spoken languages: Common tongue, Orlesian, knows small Elvish phrases, learning Tevene. 

Sexual orientation: Gay

All Occupations: Hunter in Clan Lavellan until he fled at 18. Notorious assassin based in Orlais pre-Inquisition, and Inquisitor up until disbanding. Currently a figure in the Lucerni to aid in redeeming Tevinter. 

APPEARANCE

Eye color: Pale green

Hair color: White

Height: 5��10″ 

Scars: knife wound (cheek), various small scars from years of combat.

Burns: Small burn on his upper back from when a mage caught him unaware at his flank.

Overweight: No

Underweight: No

FAVORITE

Color: He’s naturally drawn to dark colors, since he spent so much of his life lurking and slipping through the shadows as an assassin. for literally eight years of his life yall. He especially likes the color of the sky on a clear night, completely midnight black. He’s spent many evenings out on his balcony to find some comfort looking at the stars. It made him feel grounded amidst so much chaos. 

Hair color: Much like his favorite colors, he’s inclined toward darker shades, like black or dark brown. (shocker that he noticed Dorian, huh)

Eye color: He doesn’t have a specific preference, but bright, striking eyes do stand out to him, as they would to anyone else. 

Music genre: He enjoys ballroom music and the sound of harps. He warmed up a lot toward tavern songs after becoming Inquisitor, though. His memories of Herald’s Rest and Maryden’s voice are always a source of comfort... and nostalgia. 

Movie genre: N/A

TV show:  N/A

Food: Vesryn loves sweet foods! If there are desserts in Skyhold’s kitchens, you’d better believe he’s going to eat more than he probably should and take a stash up to his quarters for later. If there are a few icing smudges or crumbs on official documents, well... His time in Orlais gave him a much more distinguished palette than what he had with the Dalish, and he’s now a bit of a picky eater because of it. He’ll eat anything if the situation calls for it though, like if he’s venturing away from Skyhold for extended periods. But if anyone knows Vesryn well, they’ll remember to pack extra spices for their dinners at camp (unless you’re okay with hearing at least one snarky comment about blandness).

Butter soup, Fereldan-style stew, any well seasoned meat, cookies, small pastries, sponge cakes, etc

Drink: Naturally, he drinks a lot of water since that’s easiest to come by on the road. He also likes a nice cup of hot tea in the evenings to settle himself before trying to get some semblance of rest. Alcohol wise, he tends to stay away from ale and mead. He mainly drinks wine, preferably the sweeter variety, like Dandelion wine.

Book: He’s not much of a reader, but at the very least, he’ll browse through historical accounts or research certain subjects if he feels he needs to be further educated to better fill his role. He doesn’t want to be at the brunt of political decisions with no former knowledge to go off of. (but then he goes and does things like publicly assassinating Florianne, sigh) 

HAVE THEY

Passed University: N/A

Had sex: Oh, yes.

Had sex in public: Yes

Gotten pregnant (themselves or a partner): Nope

Kissed a boy: Yes

Kissed a girl: Once

Gotten tattoos: No

Gotten piercings: No

Had a broken heart: Yes, though it wasn’t severe. 

Been in love: Yes

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Yes, many, many times. His anxieties kept him awake at times, or brooding over past decisions that could have played out differently if he had just done this or that. He was also often called upon by his advisors to discuss important matters, and these discussions would often go late into the night. He also had to settle small disputes sometimes. Who says the Inquisitor needs sleep?

ARE THEY

A virgin: No

A cuddler: Not often

A kisser: Yes

Scared easily: nah, it takes a lot to actually make him squirm. One of the biggest things he was afraid of was allowing himself to fall in love, since he doesn’t trust easily. 

Jealous easily: He would have you believe that he isn’t, but deep down, he is. This shocked him, because he had never felt attached enough to anyone to the point where jealousy would even begin to cross his mind. A son of a noble family in Orlais had hired the famous masked “Era’Harel” many times to take out his family’s rivals one by one, and Ves had felt comfortable around him. But the noble showed his true colors early enough that Ves never allowed himself to fully fall. (that whole story is too long for me to fit here)

With Dorian, though... Whenever he would see someone speaking to Dorian suggestively, he didn’t understand what that unpleasant twisting in his gut was, until he did. And man if that wasn’t an oh shit moment for him, whew.

Trustworthy: If he likes you. Just kidding. Sort of. He’s very manipulative, so if he needs to make someone believe that he’s trustworthy, he will. But he is genuinely very trustworthy toward his comrades. He only deceives crude, all around evil people nowadays as political maneuvers. (Turns out, there are a lot of those in Tevinter) 

Dominant: Before becoming Inquisitor, I wouldn’t say he was docile or shy, but he generally kept to himself. If the need arose, he would definitely stand up for himself/fight if necessary, but he preferred to avoid attention. Becoming Inquisitor forced him to change in a lot of ways; it forced him out of his shell since he had to become a leader, for one. (and it also made him a lot kinder, yay friendship) He became a lot more of a dominant personality over the course of Inquisition, and being most in control is now where he’s most comfy.

Submissive: Nowadays, only in bed. ;p

In love: Yes

Single: No

RANDOM QUESTIONS

Have they harmed themselves: Not intentionally, no. He did seriously contemplate amputating his arm himself during Trespasser because the pain was so excruciating, though. 

Thought of suicide: He’s had some lows, but never contemplated ending his life. (he’s got a very, very strong will to survive/push through)

Attempted suicide: No

Wanted to kill someone: Uh..yes. And Pre-Inquisition Vesryn would probably kill them.

Ridden a horse: Yes! He prefers riding harts, though. 

Have/had a job: Hunter, Assassin, Inquisitor, figure in the Lucerni ive said this already i know lol

Have any fears: Falling in love, regret.

FAMILY

Sibling(s): None that he knows of. 

Parents: Both died when he was very young, doesn’t really remember them. He was mainly “raised” by the Dalish, but he didn’t enjoy the lifestyle and generally stuck to himself before abandoning the Clan. 

Children: None.

Pets: He’s never thought much about adopting/caring for his own animals, besides his mount. There was this one chunky cat that would often times raid Skyhold’s pantries, and she would follow Vesryn up to his quarters most of the time. He didn’t really think he cared about her until he realized that he was leaving his doors cracked so she could come and go as she pleased. He named her Chérie, which he’d affectionately been calling her for awhile. Needless to say, he took her to Tevinter. 

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 80

Once the adrenaline faded, the last shock of the night- Rhodey walking up with a nervous President Ellis- was enough to spike what was left in your system. You practically collapsed in his arms as you hugged him tight. Glad to see him. Happy to know he’d been with Tony through most of this. And then that glow that had been consuming you from the start seemed to burst, and with it went most of your energy. 

Things became a little bit of a blur after that. You just remembered feeling hot. Too hot. Sweating profusely. Rooms shaking. A whisper of a cold breeze that left too soon. Too many voices speaking just above you. Hands touching you. Poking. Prodding. Lovingly caressing- 

Ah, that was always Tony. Even in your hazy state, you felt him. And more than once you heard him, not just speaking to you, but speaking to you. In that way only he could. You’re alright honey. You’re gonna be alright. I love you… 

His voice reassuring you, hypothetically holding your hand until the next time consciousness actually returned. The room was soothingly dark, not overly so. And you weren’t alone. Turning your head, the first thing you saw was an IV in your arm, steady drip- a spike of panic touched your awareness- because the last time you’d been hooked up to something like that-

“Hey, there she is.” A warmly familiar voice put your fears at bay, and you looked up to see Bruce, turning half away from a screen, tablet in hand. He slipped his glasses off his nose, putting them in his shirt pocket. “How are you feeling?” 

For a moment you had no idea how to answer that. “I’m okay… I think…” Sure, why not. You didn’t currently feel like you were in immediate danger- or pain, which was nice. “What are you doing?” 

“Checking your levels. Most of it is out of your system by now, I was just making sure things are on the straight and narrow.” Moving, he took a seat on the side of your bed. Lifting his hand, he placed the back of it gingerly on your forehead. 

You gave him a curious look. “As far as I know you aren’t that kind of doctor.” Smiling lightly at him.

He took the jab with relative ease, smiling right on back. “I’m not. But I can make do.” Patting your forehead once, he returned his attention back to his tablet, making a few scribbles on it with his pointer finger. “You’ve had a hell of a fever for the past couple of weeks… spiked more than once... but I think you’re out of the woods now.” 

“Weeks?” You felt your voice weakening at that. “But… I’m fixed now, right?”

“I told you.” Tony’s voice entered the room as the door opened. He came in, rolling up his sleeves, dressed in a handsome white button up shirt and black vest complimented with a purple tie. “That’s what I do.” Bruce moved to allow him to sit next to you on the bed, setting a hand on the back of your head and easing you closer to press a kiss to your forehead. “How are you feeling, honey? All good news, I’m sure.” 

You practically melted into him, eyes closing. “You look so nice… dressing up just for me?” Unintentionally avoiding his question. 

He sat back, hand sliding to cup your cheek in his palm. His grin was sure. “Not entirely. Somebody’s gotta do work around here.” 

“Usually that’s me.” Teasing right on back. 

“Yeah. Well, I guess I don’t mind, while you’re still under the weather. We have a new initiative going on.” 

Shifting, you rested your head against his shoulder. “Tell me about it…” 

His arm came around your shoulder, and you noticed Bruce slipping out of the room to give the both of you some privacy. Tony’s hand spread out as he labeled his proud moment, “It’s called Maimed by AIM- with a question mark.” 

A dissatisfied noise escaped you. “Maybe you should have waited for me to come to…” 

“Don’t like it? I thought it was catchy.” 

“Are there still people left? That Killian hurt?” Used. Abused. Maybe there were some out there… that hadn’t bought in to the Mandarin nonsense. Maya had been talking about that. Briefly, in the time that you knew her…

“Yeah…” His voice got quieter. “Seems Maya had a dead-man’s switch in the event of her death. All her research, all the information of their test subjects, the families… it all got transferred to the Stark Industries’ servers a week back. I thought I may as well try and clean up where I can. Now that I have the answer they were so desperately looking for.” 

“Maya is-” 

“Yeah.” The arm around you squeezed you tighter. “I watched Killian put a bullet through her. When she decided she’d seen enough.” 

Though it was small, the bloom of sorrow was impossible to miss. You moved your hand up over his chest, and snuggled closer. “I’m sorry, Tony.” 

“Couldn’t do anything about it.” His free hand rose, holding over yours. “Doesn’t matter now. All I can do is try to fix what she wanted me to fix.” 

“Did she have family?”

“I already made arrangements. Funeral was a few days ago. There was uh… a lot of red tape.” 

You felt like you were so far behind. “Did you go?”

“Not invited. As I’m sure you can imagine.” He didn’t allow a lot of time to marinate in this. Clearly wanting to move past it. He drew a quick breath in. “Anyway. Tell me. Honestly. How are you feeling?” 

“I don’t know…” Murmuring, as you closed your eyes. Almost like one of his machines, initiating a self check of some kind. How did you feel? “Tired, I guess. Groggy, but… I think everything’s okay.” It should be, right? If you’d spent two solid weeks in bed sweating out this stuff? 

“You’re really sure?” But him asking this again made you wonder. Were you okay? 

It occurred to you what he may have been getting at. Maybe he could fix regular people that had been injected with this stuff. But hadn’t Killian been going on and on and on about something… you dropped down into that space that should have been dark. Because that’s how you always remembered it. But now… it was still alight. Aglow. Orange sky above you. 

Instantly you knew. You were in one of the upper levels of Stark Tower. There were currently two thousand or so people in the building- and… so many… in New York City… for a moment almost a million voices rushed by your ears, causing you to sit away, put your hands over them, and force your eyes open. The calming low-light of your room found you again. “I’m not- ...I thought you said you-” No, no. This wasn’t his fault. You couldn’t blame him. He was standing again, when you looked at him, standing where Bruce had been at that screen by your bedside. “That stuff is still in me?” That had to be it, right? 

His hands were a flurry of motion, opening windows, typing things. “No- ...by all accounts you’re completely flush. ...there were- ...Maya’s notes, on you… pretty sensitive stuff. I can account for the physical reaction, for the most part. But…” 

But there was something about you that he just couldn’t fix. Because how could you fix a-... “You can’t fix the thing.” Eyes lowering. 

“That’s what’s wrong?” He took a seat by your side again. “Talk to me.” 

Did it matter? He couldn’t fix it. It was going to be like this forever now. But, when he put his hand over yours… you remembered you were not so alone. And keeping all of this bottled up, hadn’t that been what had gotten the two of you in trouble in the first place? “When I want to… I guess- like- super concentrate the thing- I go to this space. I don’t know how to describe it. But the floor is covered in water. And usually- usually I could only see one person. The person I was concentrating on. And it was dark in there. Just me. And them. And whatever they were feeling. But now… now it’s like it’s supercharged. I can see too many people. And it’s not dark anymore. It’s so bright.” Oddly finding some catharsis to letting yourself talk. 

So when he didn’t interrupt, you continued, laying your head on his shoulder. Closing your eyes, but not going. Basking in the darkness behind your lids. “When he put that stuff in me- Extremis- I think I really did burn up… and I tried to drop into that space to- I don’t know- make the guards help me or something- but it just all lit up. Like it was on fire, too. And now it’s still that way. And I’m sorry- this probably isn’t making any sense.” 

You felt him shrug. “Makes sense to you.” Then he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Superpowers are not really my forte. Not those kinds. I wouldn’t even know where to begin- doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try- but…” But how on earth could he even begin to imagine cooking up a solution to a problem he couldn’t physically understand? Literally. So far beyond him. Something science couldn’t make sense of. Injecting a super serum into someone’s body? Great. He could work with that. 

Talking about warping emotions and some dark-bright space where somebody’s- … essence? - wandered around? Yeah. He had no idea what to do with that. And you couldn’t fault him for it. So, you decided, “I’ll be okay.” And when you heard the murmur of discouragement from him, you cut him off, shifting to just look at him. “Really, Tony. I’ll figure it out. It’s not life threatening- that I know of- don’t make that face at me-” Because he was giving you one hell of a dry look. “I just have to get used to it, I guess.” You didn’t always even have that space. Coulson helped you unlock it. Maybe you should talk to him about it… 

“I have to take your word on this one. But. If it gets better or worse. Both. Either. Neither. I wanna know about it.” Because he wanted to keep track. Check up on you. Make sure you were doing okay. And after having communication shut down for so long… what a relief that thought was. 

Leaning in again, you rested your forehead against his, and lifted your hand to his chest. Although his current clothes were killing the light from the Arc Reactor, you felt its faint shape underneath. “No surgery yet?” 

“Like I was gonna go have- let’s be honest- pretty intense open heart surgery while you were laid up. Please. I have more courtesy than that.” His smile was wry. “One of us needs to be full capacity at a time to take care of the other.” Duh. 

At this, and the teasing after thought, you couldn’t help a little giggle. But it died down, and you found yourself just looking at him. “When, then?” 

“Whenever I’m ready. Doctor I met at- wouldn’t you know it- that same science convention in Switzerland. Seems like everybody I met that one night is suddenly important. You believe in coincidences?” Among the massive amount of sarcasm, there was a flutter of sorrow here. And you waited for him to continue. “Friend of Yinsen’s, actually. Took a few days to put a name to that blurry face.” Quieter still, “And realized I’d even met him that night.” He sniffed a breath in, moving past it. “Luckily for me, turns out he called the house. Before it blew up.” 

While just about every part of you wanted to ask what that was about- you didn’t want to give him too much opportunity to slip away. The fact was, they’d connected. And apparently now whenever he decided the time was right… “Are you ready?” Asking him as gently as possible, hand reaching up to touch over the side of his face. 

“Tech’s there. I developed a high powered energy magnetizer that’ll assist with the removal and keep the shrapnel at bay while the Arc’s not in my chest and I’m under.” But he was nervous and scared. Because that’s how a reasonable person would feel. If the surgeon didn’t perform right, or he missed a one or a zero somewhere, or … or anything-

“It’s okay if you’re not ready, Tony. It’s not now or never. This can wait.” Trying to just let him know that you understood. You very much understood his fear. 

“I’m done waiting.” It surprised you, how strong he said this, paired with the determined look in his eyes. His hand rose up, holding yours over his cheek. “I’m ready to move on.” 

So this this, you could only step beside him, and follow him wherever this led. “Okay. So we’ll move on.” Together. “What’s the recovery time look like?” 

Finally he smiled again. “I think, all things considered, I should be fine to take you on a date for Valentine’s.” 

“You’re thinking about that now?” He was such a goof sometimes. But that did pose an interesting question. “What day is it even?” How long did they say you were out again? 

His arms came around you then, with an appropriately tight squeeze. “January seventh. Honey, I’m sorry to say, the new year came and went without you. I promise I did very little partying to start 2013 off.” 

Your arms wrapped around his middle, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “What a change for you.” 

“Which is why I’m looking forward to Valentine’s.” 

“We’ll see.” 

                                                    --------

Things happened almost too fast after that. The rest of the night you drifted in the comfortable presence of Tony, who had settled on the bed with you, although his fingers seemed to never stop moving atop his laptop keyboard. The next morning, as he confirmed appointment after appointment, you worried he was speeding along this process for fear if he put a stop to it in any way now, he may never do it. 

It was hard to know what to make of that. But that very next afternoon you were shaking hands with Dr. Wu and his assistant Jiayi. Fine people, really. You didn’t get any terrible feelings from either of them. Which was important, for sure, but… 

This done waiting attitude may have been more harmful than helpful. But if he wanted to go then what choice did you have but to follow him? So, the appointment was made. And it was a done deal. You put your current energies into make sure he was comfortable, that his room was secure, air tight, and private. And that none of this leaked to the press. This was not meant for them. Not yet. If ever. 

Rhodey met up with you that evening, and you spent perhaps too long a time giving him a squeezing hug. And also apologizing for practically- probably- scaring the living daylights out of him the last time the two of you were together. And while the room was being prepped for surgery- same as Tony- you and Rhodey stood outside, gazing in the observation window. You weren’t exactly sure you were strong enough for this, to watch this- but… 

“He’s ready to go, huh?” Rhodey crossed his arms. 

You gave a weak shrug, as they wheeled him in and started wiring him up to machines. “He said he didn’t want to wait any longer.” 

“I’ll say. Twenty seconds after you return to the land of the living- no offense-” Holding a hand up briefly to you before recrossing his arms, “-he’s going under. Was this something you two talked about before?” 

He was probing. Looking for something. It put an unease in your heart. “You worried?” 

“When am I not? Who knows with him. He acts out when he’s stressed. I just wanna make sure a life changing surgery isn’t gonna be a major regret.” As always, heart in the right place. 

You lowered your eyes as they brought in the anesthesia. “We talked about it. Very briefly. He made consultation appointments for himself. But it all kinda got put on the backburner.” 

“Yeah. I get it. Seems like we’re forefront now, though.” 

In the room, Tony gave you a thumbs up, and you put your hands to the glass in the shape of a heart. Perhaps a little too cliche, considering what was about to happen. But you were sure you saw the corners of his lips lift up around the mask. You felt Rhodey put his arm around you, and only realized then you were shivering. “We’re gonna be okay.” Even your voice was wobbly. 

There just wasn’t enough time to process this. Rhodey pulled you closer to him. “We’ll be okay.” 

The surgery took a grueling five and a half hours. Dr. Wu was probably the best- and only- person for the job. He was careful. Meticulous. Each piece of shrapnel extracted took a long time, as you were sure he was making sure he did everything precisely. Some of it was hard to watch. Like the beginning. And somewhere in the middle you were glad there were just too many doctors in the room standing on the side of his table blocking your view. 

Rhodey took to pacing, but never left. Which was good. It was very nice to have a shoulder to literally lean on every now and again. But where you thought five and a half hours was the longest amount of time you’d ever spent doing anything in your life, it then seemed all too short as Dr. Wu starting sewing him up. It was over? Just like that? Just like that. 

Just like that. You were almost left in a state of shock as they wheeled him out of the room. Rhodey had to shake you a little. “You okay?” 

“He’s lived with that shit in his chest for almost five years- I think-” Time was a little beyond you at the moment. “And now it’s just- gone. Done. Finished. Over.” 

“And this is… a good thing, right?” He had his arms half crossed, one hand sitting just over his mouth as he watched you. “Are we on the same page here?” 

“I just… can’t believe it. It’s hard to believe. You understand, right?” Turning away from the window, the now empty room, looking back at him. 

You found relief when he nodded. “Yeah. I get it. I think we’ll all have to work on believing it together.” 

His hand reached out to take hold of yours, leading you finally out of that wing and upstairs into the room where Tony was getting situated. Still out cold. Probably would be for a while. And, in fact, was. So long a time that eventually Rhodey gave you a pat on the shoulder and told you he needed to head out. That was fine. He had other things to do. You understood. 

So you waited. And tried not to look at the bandages peeking out beyond the neck of the hospital gown he was wearing. Though you did. More than once. Dr. Wu came in eventually to debrief you. You took everything to heart. All his instructions. The details. The important things. And then… he got a hug, too. Even though he didn’t seem like he enjoyed it that much. But that was okay. 

It was when he left, and that you sat down again, that you saw Tony groggily opening his eyes. Leaning over, you brushed some of the stray bangs away from his forehead. “Hey, handsome…” 

His smile was one of relief. “Hey yourself…” Voice a low murmur. “Still here?” 

Laying your hand over his on the bed, “You’re still with us. Everything went perfect.” 

Closing his eyes, he huffed out a noise. “I meant you… if you’ve got other things to do…” 

“Nothing more important than you.” 

“Can’t argue with you there.” It was easy to tell how foggy he was. Not up to his normal speed. Which you imagined must have been frustrating for him. Because in the next breath, “When we gettin’ outta here?” 

“Give yourself a little while, Tony. You just had serious surgery. And, by the way, even when we go home, you’re not allowed to like- even put your arms above your head for the next four-to-six weeks.” Already starting in with the list of important things to know from the doctor. 

He scoffed. “Back in that cave I was building a suit almost immediately after-” 

“Well I don’t care about what went on in strange caves after forced surgery and while you were under duress. Here and now you’re taking it easy. Got it?” Laying down the law. And that was that.

He stared at you, eyes a little glassy, half-lidded. And then a beautiful loopy grin appeared on his face as his eyes closed all the way again. “Yes, ma’am… your way or the highway…” He sounded like he was drifting, as he let his head fall to the side. You sat forward to brush his hair back again and he murmured out a soft pleased noise. His hand turned over, taking hold of yours. “Thanks… for staying…” 

Leaning in, you pressed a delicate lingering kiss to his temple. “Just relax, Tony. Rest. I’m here. I’ve got you.” 

“Got you first.” Through his daze, he got this out pretty quick. 

You smiled, nuzzling that spot at his temple. “We can debate about it later.” 

“I love you.” He was on his way out. I love you, too. 

                                                    ----

You really did make sure to law down the law and make sure he took his time with recover. When he was ready to go home- ...well… not home, which was already a pain, but the Avengers Tower would do, as the penthouse basically acted as your second home- now primary- but, when he was ready, you made sure to take him yourself. Loaded him into the car yourself. Drove him yourself. Took him upstairs yourself- and put him to bed, yourself. 

There was a lot of that, in the coming weeks. But you didn’t mind. It was easy work. Making sure he rested, and when he was back on his feet, making sure he didn’t do anything crazy. “I’ll do all the heavy lifting. Literally, lifting of heavy things.” Unable to help getting in a few sassy snarks here and there. He seemed to appreciate them, anyway. 

In true Tony fashion, he was unable to sit still. And even doing normal things was taking a toll on him. It eventually led to the both of you heading down to the labs. But you made sure to be his hands and arms, and found some strange pleasure as he guided you through building what were essentially non-essential things. Not that he didn’t trust you, you were sure. But probably just getting the tizzy out of his brain by going from one easy thing to the next to the next to the next… 

As February rolled in, he really did seem to be doing much better. And the few check-ins from Dr. Wu suggested he was making excellent progress. And as the second week dawned, you caught Tony more than once giving you thoughtful glances, that eventually turned into, “So. Valentine’s?” 

An offer you were having trouble refusing. Even if you made a show of being slightly off put by the idea, a small sigh escaping you. Aside taking him, there of course was always work to do. “You really have something in mind?” 

“I do. So I’d appreciate it if you could just take one night off. I don’t think I’m asking too much, really.” Playing at being offended as much as you were playing unsure. He came around your desk as you were humming in long mock thought, putting his arms around your shoulders from behind. “You’re gonna make me beg? I’m not above begging. Just say the word.” 

A playful roll of your eyes came next as you gave in. ��Oh… alright. Valentine’s. What should I wear?” 

He pressed a kiss to your cheek and, immediately after gaining your approval, seemed to be on his way out. Like he’d completed his mission and risked blowing it by staying any longer. “Something classy. I’m gonna take you out.” 

“Hey- before you go- we have to go back to the… site in Malibu- and collect whatever’s left-” A task you’d been trying to keep him on track for for a little while now. Now that he could handle it. 

But he just waved you off. “We’ll talk about it after.” 

One more thing to put away for now. Couldn’t have everything. 

But a night out? Suddenly seemed like a thing you weren’t sure how you lived without. Something classy really wasn’t saying much. But knowing Tony’s inclinations… you decided on a slinky black dress, which somehow matched his all white suit. It was a good look on him, you had to admit. Really, though, you wondered what had gotten into him. 

The entire night he looked at you like you were the only person on planet earth that mattered, and for one reason or another, it flustered you. He was just emanating love from every pore. So much that you may have been drowning in it. He took you to a fancy restaurant for dinner. And then an even fancier and more exclusive one for dessert. But it wasn’t the food or the locations that were important. 

It was him. And the two of you. And it hardly mattered that paparazzi were being quarantined by Stark security on the opposite side of the street everywhere you two went, or that people around you were looking around and trying to sneak pictures… you understood, really, why he was looking at you the way he had been. It wasn’t because you really were the only person in the universe. 

But to him you were the most important one. For sure. And on a night like tonight, you’d never questioned it less. Maybe near death experiences did that to a person. Maybe he felt more alive than ever. It was hard to say. 

After dessert he strangely took you back to the Tower, and led you hand in hand for a slow dance on the desk, as fireworks bloomed in the night sky behind you. Just as you laid your head on his shoulder, he spoke up. “I uh… at the risk of being overly cheesy, I got you something. I think that’s standard protocol, right. Gift on Valentine’s day.” 

You couldn’t hide your smile if you tried. “I didn’t get you anything.” 

“You’re enough.” Smiling as the two of you gazed at one another. But he seemed a little anxious. “Anyway- here- uh-” Reaching into his suit jacket pocket, he pulled out a long, thin black velvet box. “Turn around.” 

“Jewelry on Valentine’s day. You are going for cheesy.” Teasing him only in the most harmless way possible. Obeying his request after that. You heard the lid creak open, and the tinkly sounds of a chain and some other metal… your eyes closed briefly, lulled by a warm thrum that appeared while his fingers brushed the sides of your neck as he laid the necklace over your skin. Once you heard the clasp close, you reached up to touch your hands over it- feeling a heart pendant, small but no doubt encrusted with something expensive. But on the sides- 

...all along the sides of the chain, there were these… soft yet edged pieces of… something. Something. And almost immediately, for one reason or another, you knew what they were. “Tony-”

His voice was warm in your ear, “Our future started here.” 

As if you needed more confirmation. Half turning to cast quite a look at him- “Tony these are-” 

“Technically speaking- pieces of my heart- yes-” 

“Pieces of shrapnel from a bomb that almost killed you-”

He held a hand up, palming the side of your face. “Now, honey, you can’t say I never gave you anything nice. Or personal.” 

Sitting pretty around your neck were pieces of metal that had been literally sitting in his heart for years- and that had been extracted only five or so weeks ago in a surgery meant to heal him. And now… now he was gifting them to you. Like a sentimental piece of art. How were you supposed to handle that…? 

Evidently, with a crack of a smile, and a reach of your arms up to wrap them loosely around his neck, drawing him closer. “I love it. And you. You’re so weird and dramatic sometimes. You know that?” 

His head craned back, not lulled in, arching a brow. “How is that dramatic?” And at this you mirrored the look he was giving you. The mutual eye brow raising went on for maybe ten seconds more before laughter bubbled up from him, and his hands came to settle on your hips, bringing you in as close as he could get you. “Oh- I’m very sorry- Ms. Our Future Started Here. What was that about glass houses and stones again?” 

Giggles were all too soon leaking out of you. Maybe you two deserved each other. It was right. He was right. Laying your head on his shoulder, as the two of you swayed, “At least I can say I own a Tony Stark original.” 

“I mean. You own a Tony Stark. But if the jewelry thing is what really does it for you…” 

“I own the Tony Stark, thank you.” Only one. Only one man in the world like him. Only one man in the universe that was him. And you were forever grateful. 

His arms lifted, and you felt a slice of worry, but it dissolved as he wound them around your shoulders as yours dropped to wind around his middle, laying his head atop yours. Having no trouble at all. Your eyes closed. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too. Thank you… for the necklace. For tonight. ...for everything.” Was this an appropriate time to start spilling all that out? You were sure he knew, but… it never hurt. 

“If we’re about to start throwing out gratitudes, you’re gonna be out here all night listening to me go on.” Serving it right back to you. “Let’s just keep it simple, shall we?” 

“Mn.” Agreeing in a murmur. “We shall.” 

So, instead, in the way only he and you could, 

I love you. You let him know again. And in a space that contrasted the night you were sharing, bright as you went to him, and sort of just… laid your head on his shoulder there, too. Close as two people could be, you imagined. In whatever that was. You put your hand over his heart, and heard him inhale just somewhere over you. 

His voice returned to you, full, flush, and warm. I love you, too. 

For a brief moment the two of you not only existed together, but all together too fleeting, you seemed to share a space. And his heartbeat fell in line with yours. 

A night had never been so perfect. 

[transfemininomenon]

Hey, i'm actually a "truscum" i found out recently, but im a little confused on the whole ordeal. Im not even sure if i actually am truscum or not- because some posts seem to tie up with me being one but others dont, but i saw you were really against them, so i wanted to ask if you're okay with a friendly calm conversation about it? I am very confused and i just want to learn a bit more or find out if i'm wrong about the whole ordeal. Are you open to it?

i'll be honest im not sure how friendly i can be with this kind of conversation because i really truly genuinely, and i don't use this word lightly, Hate truscum and its hard for me to really be civil about the discussion. but for the sake of this and me giving you a lot of benefit of the doubt that this ask is in good faith i'll explain why i do not like the entire truscum ideology

1. i guess i'll start off with the Big One - the claim that dysphoria is Required to be trans. i'll preface this by saying that i am someone who has experienced, and currently Experiences in wildly different degrees depending on what is happening in my life, dysphoria throughout my entire life. i had my entire teenage and young adult years stolen from me by it. i won't get into details about it because that is a Very Very Personal subject for me, but needless to say dysphoria is something that was a very prevalent part of my life.

anyway. the notion that dysphoria is a Trans Requirement™ is something that i hugely disagree with. i used to think that me figuring out i was a trans woman was because i experienced dysphoria, but frankly the opposite is true. dysphoria is what made me refuse to believe i was a woman or could ever be one. it made me believe i was a man and that was all i would ever be. it wasn't until i really started experimenting with my gender and unpacking a lot of stuff i felt about myself that i started to finally realize the woman i was. i first started trying our she/her pronouns nearing four years now, and started using the name Alice a few months after that. being referred to as a woman & experimenting with different feminine things gave me such incredible feelings of euphoria that i still experience to this day whenever i discover something new about my identity.

and that is something ive heard from SO many other trans people i know. or different things too - i know people who are completely fine with their bodies, just certain words and terms never felt Right to them. because the thing with dysphoria is that it, like all things gender related, is a product of society. dysphoria only exists because transphobia exists - people are told that there are these two rigid things that you are and HERE is what makes you one of those things, and those things are drilled into you literally since birth. everything from colors to jobs to hobbies to cars to entertainment to clothing to Literally Everything is gendered, and when that happens then of fucking course there are gonna be people who don't fall in line with that, and when it's so instilled into people and seen as such societal norms of COURSE people are going to have trouble with that.

and that's not even getting into the subject of gender on a biological level. the fact of the matter is that the two sex system Isn't True and that biological sex is very complicated. intersex people exist, people with all kinds of different chromosomes exist, people of certain body types that have higher levels of different hormones exist, SO much goes into that subject that frankly narrowing it down to two things just doesn't Work

and that's the real problem at the end of the day. dysphoria only exists because of a fucked up gender binary that clashes with both biology and sociology. people are complicated on both a biological and personal level and having set binaries for things is bound to cause confusion & doubt.

like, people's identities are SUCH personal things in so many different ways. there isn't any Right Way™ to be trans. i know trans women with beards, trans women who have no interest in starting hrt, trans men who wear dresses and makeup, non-binary people who make no effort to be androgynous, i know SO many different identities and different people. because the fact is that there's no right way to be trans because nothing is inherently gendered including people's very bodies. people are themselves and there is no Right way to be themselves.

that's on top of the lack of education when it comes to the subject of gender. such a huge part too of me figuring out i was trans was literally learning that it was even a fucking option. i genuinely didn't know just Being A Girl was an option. reading up on gender stuff and researching the different idea of transitioning was intrinsic in my figuring out who i was because oh shit turns out there are people like me and that is Okay.

like, dysphoria literally could've been a non-issue for me. i could've lived in a world where i could just Exist and enjoy whatever i wanted without it being weird. i could've decided so much sooner that i wasn't happy with the way my body was growing and not spent my entire teen years being so confused why i was so sad seeing my girl peers. i could have from the start just gotten to be a girl and never have had dysphoria be part of the equation.

im not trans being i experience dysphoria. im trans because being a woman is rad as hell and it's what i wanted. im trans because changing my name to Alice was the biggest moment of my entire life. im trans because rebelling against the societal restraints of gender is fucking metal. im trans because my friends can't even remember me ever not being me now. im trans because im a great older sister. im trans because god nerfed me and i said nah thanks man but im not feeling it.

my identity and my gender are very personal and complicated things, and narrowing it down to "i experience dysphoria" is frankly insulting to me.

anyway, that's the big point out of the way, so here's some shorter ones

2. this is kinda expanding on the last point, but truscum both insisting non-binary people aren't a thing and them insisting "transtrenders" exist is hmm Bad

the sheer fact of the matter is the concept of being non-binary has existed from the oldest known records of human history on TOP of that concept being prevalent in many different cultures so what do ya know there's a healthy dose of racism involved in the denial of non-binary people. the gender binary is such a western concept and there are SO many different cultures where different gender identities exist.

and, frankly, going back to the above point that gender is fucking Fake and is a societal concept - again, of fucking course there are going to be people who see a rigid set of rules on gender and are like "well wait that doesn't fit me" so of COURSE non-binary people exist

on the subject of "transtrenders" i feel like i shouldn't even HAVE to get into this subject because of how inherently transphobic it is. the concept doesn't exist. there are people who experiment with their gender and then decide their assigned one is fine. there are people who go through all kinds of different identities. there are people who come out as a different gender and then revert back due to backlash. there are people who get told the way they present their gender is the Wrong Way™ and get branded a trender. it's a dangerous thought process that literally does nothing but serve the cis status quo and make people afraid to experiment and think about their identities.

3. the idea that Those Evil Trenders™ are stealing resources from the Real Trans People™ is, frankly, fucking bullshit. issues when it comes to trans people finding difficulty accessing healthcare comes from a transphobic society hellbent on denying us care on top of fucked up healthcare systems in general. hormones aren't some limited quality hard to acquire thing - when i started hrt transferring my prescription from my clinic to my local pharmacy was a non-issue because it's something basically any pharmacy will have for ALL kinds of different purposes. it's an issue because healthcare in general is a god damn Mess on TOP of inherent transphobia

and, frankly, truscum are directly involved in that transphobia in the medical field. unless you find an informed consent clinic you're going to have to jump through all kinds of hoops to prove you're Actually Trans™ by getting referrals from other (almost always cis) people and then get put on ridiculous waitlists to make sure you're not about to change your mind. that kind of attitude is only encouraged by truscum and it is one of the biggest source of trans people having such difficulty accessing healthcare.

4. truscum as far as im concerned are no different than any other transphobe. two years ago before i started hrt i was harassed by truscum multiple times, each time having them tell me i wasn't trans, that i was just a trender, and it genuinely boggles my mind that anyone thinks misgendering me because i disagreed with their ideology is Woke, actually. I've seen so many fellow trans women getting called men by truscum who disagreed with them. i was actively told i shouldn't start hrt because i "wasn't really trans and was gonna ruin my life"

i really hope all of people live in anger every day knowing ive been on hrt over a year and a half and am fucking Thriving

anyway that's all i got to say on the matter i realize my points became less thought out as it went on but frankly the first point is enough for me to not like truscum

(please refrain from reblogging this i don't want any clowns in my inbox)