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buglife · 4 years ago

Note

Monomom and dadmaster.

A direct sequel to this part.

(Again no beta, srry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

Mato sat at the fancily decorated table, sipping some rather strong alcohol. It’s only been about an hour and already he was being driven to drink. He glanced around himself to see the well dressed nobles, polished to a near shine as they practically tripped over themselves in an effort to talk to his child. Said child, a god of void and the literally ruler of Hallownest, looked like they wanted to break a window and escape. Their newly crowned partner, Quirrel, the Scholar King, looked ready to do the same. Mato could see the glint of chaos in those eyes behind the façade of politeness and decorum. The same look that usually dwelled in the depths of-

“Oh, hello Mato.” Came the even voice of Monomon. He spared her a glance as she floated over to join him at the table. “What a dreadful affair this is.”

“It was something they had to do.” Mato could only shrug in response, watching Ogrim forcibly pick up unruly nobles and setting them in a line. Poor Ogrim, it’s like herding school children but without the fun.

“Nonsense, your child is a god and the Ruler of this kingdom,” She paused a moment to glance at the alcohol he was sipping. She looked like she wanted to steal it. “Ghost could have forgone a royal ball entirely and just had the coronation be a private thing, like the wedding.”

“And you saw how well that went.” Mato countered as he took another sip. “They and Quirrel actually hid out with me in the Howling Cliffs until the collective whining went down to acceptable levels. Nobles complain less if they feel like they are a part of something.”

Monomon sighed. “Why do we even need those idiots?”

“Because not all of them are. There are quite a few that actually do their jobs.” Mato pointed out a couple that were sitting off to the sides, pointedly not mobbing the royal couple. “Jobs that Quirrel and Ghost don’t have to do and can focus on other things.”

“Well can’t we just...you know…” Monomon leaned in with a whisper. “Get rid of the useless ones.”

“Because unlike the Pale Bastard, Ghost recognizes that life is precious and shouldn’t be erased on a whim.” Mato barely repressed the shudder that boiled in his carapace.

Monomon just gently smiled. “I’m not suggesting my dear child-in-law outright murder them. But Deepness could use a few more ambassadors, right?”

“You mean target practice for Hornet and Herrah.”

She clapped her tentacles together in delight. “Yes! A win for both kingdoms!”

Mato shook his head, amused. “You know, I may be a Nailmaster and have slain many a terrible beast, but you still scare the hell out of me.”

“Good, that means you have more sense than most people. Especially the Pale King.”

This caught Mato’s attention, looking away from Ghost and Quirrel to focus on Monomon. “Oh, do tell.”

“I put the fear of a mother in him when he kicked my son across the room. This was when, oh, he was this little.” She made a shape with her tentacle to indicate a very small pillbug. “He rolled up because he couldn’t get out of the way in time and the bastard was not watching his feet.”

Mato sucked in a breath. “Oof, poor little guy.”

“At first he didn’t want to apologize. What was some simple bug to him? So what if they got kicked? So I told him exactly how I would make it so that they would never find any remains to mourn if he did not apologize and make it up to Quirrel.”

“Did he?” That sure did sound like the bastard. He had no issues sacrificing hundreds of his own children to the abyss, what’s one kicked child to him?

“He did, he had a servant take Quirrel to the royal bakery and get a box of whatever he chose.” Monomon looked pleased with herself, a dangerous aura about her as she recanted her tale. “He was quite happy to accept such an apology, the dear little boy.”

“He is, I can see how he captured Ghost’s heart.” Mato sighed wistfully. “They make a great pair.”

“They do.” Monomon was content to sit for a moment, watching said pair as they dealt with the increasing hoard of nobles.

Ghost looked at Mato, and Quirrel looked at Monomon. Both flashed a quick, almost unnoticeable sign as they went back to feign interest in whatever was being yammered at them.

“Well, that’s my cue.” Mato stood, letting his glass sit and hefting his great nail over his shoulder.

“Mine as well.” Monomon gracefully took to the air again, tucking in the chair she had been sitting on.

“What do you got planned?” Mato asked in interest, watching the windows.

“I planted a few bombs, you?”

“My brothers and I are going to cause some trouble.” Mato winked.

The glass in two windows dramatically broke as both Paintmaster Sheo and Nailmaster Oro sailed through, glass glittering in the air as they descended. They landed in the middle of the stunned crowd, sending a few of the mob flying up and out of the way. They both struck their traditional poses, shrieking a war cry that sent most still standing nobles to the ground.

It was then a few explosions ripped through the ballroom. Punch bowls exploded and drenched those around them and the delicately arranged hor d'oeuvres went sailing like missiles. Nobles screamed and ran, blinded by tiny sandwiches and rings of veggies.

“TRIAL BY COMBAT.” Shouted Oro, drawing his great nail and diving at one of the nail carrying nobles. They screamed in fear and struggled to run, completely forgetting that they too were armed as Oro chased them.

“TRAIL BY COMBAT.” Sheo and Mato echoed, picking a target and diving into the crowd. Witnesses in the room watched as cowardly nobles climbed over themselves to escape out the windows. A few more explosions ripped apart the arranged flowers, setting a storm of flower petals dancing as the nailmasters assaulted the guests. Sheo, haven given up his nail, instead painted lovely little masterpieces on the fleeing bugs. It was beautiful chaos.

Ghost and Quirrel held on to each other, laughing to the point of tears. The more sane nobles, the ones who actually got things done, was treated to the sight of their rulers collapsing in laughter as their family terrorized the less than brave individuals. Ghost and Quirrel’s friends were equally in tears, such chaos is one to be savored, and it had single handedly saved the day from boredom.

“Hells yeah!” Tiso yelled, raising a glass messily as he and their friends watched five nobles get stuck in the doorway. Oro had risen their nail and angled the flat edge, ready to smack them loose. “Now THIS is a party!”

That coronation would forever go down in history.

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flipomatic · 4 years ago

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Internship Chapter 22: Day 19 - Edric

Author Note: This chapter is longer than usual and contains non graphic violence.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

___________________________________________________________

As usual, Edric was walking with Frederick to go see the dispatcher. They would probably be sent on patrol today, since they spent most of the week training. Edric had the wood sword on his belt, as required by Frederick. He had tried to ditch it that morning, dropping it in the training hall before meeting up, but Frederick noticed and made him fetch it.

Now they were going to get their orders for the day. As usual, Frederick opened the door and entered once they arrived. Edric followed him in.

Unusually, the dispatcher was already talking to someone when they stepped in. He had his back to the door, and was looking at a small object mounted on the back wall. Edric couldn’t see it clearly without getting closer. The dispatcher was speaking to it in a confused tone, arms crossed over his chest.

“What’s with these orders?” He was asking the device. “This isn’t right.”

“You dare question orders from the Emperor?” That voice, high pitched and tinny through the device, that was a voice Edric knew. He had met her in this very building, on his first day of the internship. Kikimora sounded irritated, her voice carrying the sharp hint of a threat.

The dispatcher immediately recanted, bowing his head forward. “No, I’m not. I apologize.” Edric wondered what orders they were talking about; this was suspicious activity.

“Good.” Kikimora still didn’t sound pleased. “Now, you have visitors to attend to.”

The dispatcher looked over his shoulder, then quickly turned to face them. As he turned, Edric could see that the device behind him was a small mirror. It was empty now, but presumably had Kikimora’s image in it just a moment before.

“Sir, I apologize for keeping you waiting.” The dispatcher hurried back to his chair, sitting down and inspecting the papers on his desk.

Frederick didn’t comment on it. “Where are we headed today?” He got right to business.

“Let’s see.” The dispatcher picked up a piece of paper off the top. “You’re headed to the construction site on the west side of Bonesborough. One of the workers needs to be brought in for questioning. He’s suspected of murder, so be careful.” The dispatcher held the paper out to hand it to Frederick. “Here’s his profile.”

Frederick reached for it slowly, showing unexpected hesitance. “We’ll bring him in.” He said, looking down at the paper.

“You’ve been assigned a vehicle for transportation.” The dispatcher walked over to one of the walls, where he grabbed a set of keys off a rack. “Van number 2.” He said as he handed the keys to Frederick.

“Can I drive?” Edric asked with a smirk.

“No.” Frederick replied curtly as he turned to leave the room. Edric had expected that response, but he still felt disappointed.

They left the dispatcher’s office, walking towards the front of the jail. Edric still hadn’t seen where the vehicles were kept, so this was something new. The prospect of not having to walk was an exciting one; walking all day was one of his least favorite parts of this internship.

As it turned out, the cars were not stored in the Emperor’s Coven wing. Edric followed Frederick out and through the lobby, entering the other part of the jail. He hadn’t been back here before, but didn’t have time now to look around.

They weaved through a few hallways, until they emerged into a large garage like space. There were three vans inside, all labeled with a large number on the side.

Frederick approached van number 2, using the keys to unlock the passenger seat door before going to the driver’s side. Edric assumed that passenger door was for him, so he opened it and climbed in.

The inside of the van wasn’t anything special. There was just enough room for Edric’s legs so he didn’t feel cramped. The dash was a boring grey, not exciting at all. When he turned around, Edric could see that there was a barricade behind the front seats. He could see through a small vent that there were two benches lining the sides in the rear. The van was super plain; Edric had been hoping for more pizazz.

Frederick climbed in the driver side and used the key to start the vehicle. He placed the paper, which he’d carried all the way from the dispatcher’s office, onto the center module. The engine turned over a few times before roaring to life. Frederick then cast a spell to lift a large pull up door, which opened up to the street.

He drove the van out of the garage and cast the same spell to shut the door behind them. With that, they were on their way.

It wasn’t too far to the construction site in question, especially with a vehicle to get them there. Edric stared out the window and watched the world flash by. He almost never got to ride in one of these, as they were quite rare. They took a lot of stored magic to run too, so only the Emperor’s Coven used them on a regular basis.

“Take a look at the profile before we get there.” Frederick kept his eyes locked on the road as he spoke. Edric grabbed the paper to read it over.

The suspect was wanted for the murder of one of his cousins. The body had been found in a ditch last week. Cause of death was blunt trauma. Edric was glad that there wasn’t a picture. The forensic evidence pointed to a family member. Eye witness accounts had seen the suspect with the victim not long before he vanished. They were just bringing him in for question, but it all added up to a very suspicious image.

This seemed like a dangerous job, but Edric was sure Frederick could handle it if things got dicey.

Soon they reached the construction site. Frederick parked the van near the entrance and the two climbed out. Once Frederick had locked the doors, the walked in. There were a few warning signs about wearing a hard hat; Edric wondered if this was the same construction site that Em had gone to a couple weeks ago.

Whatever they were building was coming along well. The framework of a building was up, along with scaffolding to aid in reaching the upper levels. Construction witches were standing on various parts, working on building the structure.

Much to Edric’s surprise, he saw two familiar figures standing to the side of the construction site. Luz and Amity, the last two witches he expected to find here, were looking around at the building in progress.

Frederick didn’t pay them any mind as he walked straight to the foreman, a witch wearing a bright orange vest and carrying a clipboard. Edric parted from him, just for the moment, to go talk to them.

“Amity, Luz!” He called over to them.

Amity’s eyes widened as they jumped to him. “Edric?” She said his name as a question. Oh right, he was wearing a mask.

Edric stopped in front of them. “Yup.” He lifted his mask to show them his face. “It’s me.” He pushed down his hood and left the mask sitting on top of his head. It was a lot easier to talk like this.

“Hi Edric!” Luz waved enthusiastically.

Amity was frowning. “What are you doing here?” She was less enthused to see him.

Edric raised one eyebrow. “I should be asking you that.”

“We’re visiting the Construction Coven.” Luz answered the implied question, waving one hand to gesture at the whole construction site.

Amity nodded in agreement. “Em mentioned that there was a site here, so we wanted to check it out.”

“Why though?” Edric asked, looking for more details. He remembered that Amity had wanted to see the Emperor’s Coven and the Illusion Coven, but he thought that was just because her awesome older siblings were interning there.

Amity’s cheeks gained a pink tint as she cast her eyes away. “We’ve been learning about different covens, trying to figure out which one to join.” Oh, that was a much more logical explanation for her recent behavior.

“This one is cool too.” Luz had turned away to watch a construction witch hammer a joint together. “I love them all.”

“It’s a tough choice.” Edric commiserated. He had been forced into the Emperor’s Coven for the internship, when what he really wanted was to go to the Illusion Coven. It would be harder to know what he wanted if he liked or hated them both.

“Edric!” Frederick was calling for him, from over by the foreman. “Come here.”

“I gotta go.” Edric started walking backwards that way. “Watch out for falling objects.” Luz and Amity waved goodbye as he slid his mask back over his face, spinning to walk forwards.

“Do you know them?” Frederick asked as Edric reached him.

“That’s my sister and one of her friends.”

“Oh, I’ll have to introduce myself before we go.” Frederick was looking in their direction, though they were too far away to see well.

“If you want.” Edric shrugged. Amity would probably love to meet a patrol witch from the Emperor’s Coven.

Frederick nodded, and then turned to the foreman. “We’re ready now.” He said.

The foreman looked up at the half built building and called out, “Victor, these Emperor’s Coven witches want to speak with you.” Up in the building, on the third level, one of the construction witches froze in place. He turned slowly to look at them. He matched the description on the profile.

Edric expected him to climb down to talk with them, but instead he did the opposite. He turned and started to run, picking up speed towards the edge of the building.

Frederick was too fast though. He cast a quick spell that made him disappear and reappear up on top of the construction rig, right in the suspect’s path. The suspect was forced to stop running, and started firing spells at Fredrick.

Edric snapped himself out of staring and ran to one of the other corners of the structure. He started climbing the scaffolding to try and get up there to help. It took a lot of effort, and by the time he reached the level he was out of breath.

He had come up the right corner though, and saw that the suspect was now between him and Frederick. Edric even drew his wood sword, in case he needed to defend himself.

The suspect noticed his arrival, and turned to face him instead. He shot a fire spell his way, which Edric ducked to dodge. He had to be careful up here; a nasty fall could come with any misstep.

Now the suspect lunged towards Edric, with a small object in his hands. It looked to be a hammer of some kind, perhaps the blunt weapon used to commit the murder. All of the practice with the sword paid off, as Edric was barely able to block and deflect the blow. The suspect skittered back to the middle, where he dodged a spell from Frederick.

The suspect looked back and forth between them, and then dropped down off the beam. He landed on the ground roughly, knocking over one of the other construction members in his haste. Edric cursed that he had just climbed all the way up there just to have to climb back down.

The suspect started to run again, but found himself blocked by an abomination. Amity had cast one from the side, again stopping the suspect in his tracks. He fired a spell at it and tried to dodge around it, but an ice pillar from Luz again halted him.

This distraction had given Frederick the time he needed to reach the ground. He drew a sword, a real steel sword, and approached the suspect. The witch’s eyes were wide with desperation, but there was nowhere else to run.

He tried one last fire spell on Frederick, but he dodged past it to knock him out with the hilt of his sword. The suspect collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Frederick leaned over to handcuff him, finalizing an arrest.

Edric finally got his feet back on the ground as Luz and Amity ran over.

“Good job stopping him.” Edric said to them, glancing them over to make sure they hadn’t been hurt.

“This is a pretty dangerous internship.” Amity commented dryly in reply.

Luz was still excited though. “We did great! Three cheers for teamwork!” She cheered all on her own. Edric was too tired and prideful to join in.

Frederick had picked up the suspect and was now carrying him. He approached the three teens. “Thanks for your help kids. Couldn’t have done it without you.” Edric knew he was strong, but it still surprised him to see Fredrick carrying a witch under just one arm.

“Happy to help.” Amity was smiling, looking at Frederick with wide eyed admiration.

“Let’s go Edric, we have to escort the suspect back to base.” Frederick shifted his grip on the suspect; perhaps he wasn’t as easy to carry as Frederick made it look.

“I’m coming.” Edric quickly said goodbye to Luz and Amity, then followed Frederick back to the van.

Frederick unlocked the back door, opening it to reveal the space Edric had seen from the front. He stepped and laid the suspect on the ground, before locking him inside. He then unlocked the front doors of the van so the pair could get inside, and soon they were driving back towards the jail.

They rode in silence for a few minutes. Frederick’s hands were tense on the wheel, Edric watched out of the corner of his eye as they tightened and loosened. The left arm of Frederick’s shirt was singed, the skin below it bright red.

Finally, Frederick spoke. “Good work with the sword today.” That wasn’t quite what Edric was expecting. “Your block was excellent.” He paused between sentences, as if he were choosing his words carefully.

“I had a good teacher.” Edric said that only partly as a joke. He didn’t really like this moody Frederick.

Frederick chuckled, the sound low and forced. “I still have a lot more to teach you.”

Silence returned to the van, remaining for the rest of the drive.

When they arrived at the jail, they pulled back into the garage. Frederick fetched the suspect and released him to another coven member. He explained that he had tried to run and been aggressive, and said a full written report would be coming later.

Frederick then told Edric to come with him, and they headed back into the Emperor’s Coven wing of the building. When they reached the intersection, Edric expected Frederick to turn towards the locker room. He didn’t.

Frederick turned down the hallway that led to the dispatcher. He was walking quickly, hands tense at his sides. When he reached the dispatchers office, he opened the door without knocking.

As Edric entered behind him, he watched as Fredrick practically slammed the van keys down on the dispatcher’s table.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it has to stop.” Frederick spoke in a low, threatening tone.

The dispatcher looked him over, pausing on his arm before looking over at Edric. “What do you mean?” He asked, though his tone was weak as if he already knew.

“Sending the intern on such dangerous work. Lilith never would’ve tolerated that, and neither will I.” Frederick leaned over the dispatcher as he spoke. It did seem like they were arguing now about his presence on the arrest today, but Edric’s interest was more piqued at the name; Lilith had been the previous coven leader.

“As far as I’m aware, today’s orders came from the Emperor.” The dispatcher rose to his feet, his voice stronger than before.

Edric wondered how true that statement was; it didn’t seem likely that the Emperor would have time for little things like assigning coven members to make arrests.

Frederick seemed to believe it, since he sighed and pulled back, taking half a step away. “I see. I apologize.” He spun on one heel and Edric wished he could see his face.

The dispatcher didn’t say anything as they left his office.

Frederick led the way across the building, this time actually going to the locker room. Usually Edric would part from him there, but today he followed him in. The witch was still acting strangely.

Once inside, Frederick sat down on one of the benches and took off his mask. He looked somber, a prominent frown on his face. He brought one hand up to cast a healing spell, finally starting to heal his burn.

“I’ll take the sword home and train over the weekend.” Edric broke the silence, placing a hand on the hilt of the wood sword. It wasn’t entirely a lie.

Frederick’s frown softened slightly. “Good.”

Edric soon left, lost in thought as he walked home. Today had been strange, very strange. He wondered what was going on behind the scenes.

Perhaps he could find out.

Next Chapter

#the owl house #the owl house fanfiction #edric blight #amity blight #luz noceda #this one is long #but not the longest chapter in the fic #posting a little later than usual cuz i was finishing 13 sentinels #which is a very good game i liked it a lot #flip writes

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always5hineee · 4 years ago

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Depreciation- Chapter 9: Reader Insert

Chapter warnings: Intense or adult themes

Word count: 1715

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The trial date was not a pleasant one. The entire night before and the morning of, her stomach was turning violently, causing her to avoid eating any breakfast. She knew it wasn't good for her, but it couldn't be helped. If she threw up in court, she could be ejected, which is the last thing she needed. She called the real lawyer as soon as possible to make sure their connection was adequate.

This would be the hardest part for her. She needed to do everything he told her down to the tiniest details. WayV's lives hung in the balance. She hadn't been able to arrange a meeting with them before the events, so she would just have to hope they were prepared for the things to come. The last she'd heard, Henry had been revived, but he was still refusing to eat, only accepting a slight drink of water after basically being forced to ingest it. They had put him on an IV for a few hours, but he was still weak.

She only realized a few hours before the trial that she didn't have anything to wear. Going into her room, she noticed that most of the clothes Lucas had provided to her were jeans, sweatpants, and t-shirts. None of those were really quite appropriate for such a serious occasion. The women's wardrobe downstairs were sealed up, which left her with only one dress out and available for her to use... the blue one.

With a vile taste in her mouth, she pulled it on, looking at herself in the mirror as she recollected the last time she'd worn it. Thankfully, it had been cleaned since, but it still carried awful connotations. There was no choice, she had to suffer. Putting on sensible makeup and gathering her things, she made her way to the courtroom. When she arrived, there were only a few minutes left before the trial. This was her intention. While it may have paid off to be earlier, she knew she wouldn't be able to stomach it.

She was seated near the band at the front of the room, although she was meant to be active during the trial, so she didn't really have a chance to talk to them. She glanced over once, feeling all of their eyes sliding over her form, giving her the chance to see Kun mouth a slight, 'you'll be fine'. At least, that's what she saw. Before she knew it, opening statements were underway.

"Your honor," the lawyer from the discovery period stated boldly. She was already annoying Y/N, to the point where she had to clench her fists out of sight to keep from seeming stressed. "I intend to prove that these five men, as well as their late and hospitalized associates, are guilty of the charges against them. These include harassment, assault, battery, kidnapping, rape, murder, and human trafficking, as was read to them along with their rights upon their arrest." The judge nodded, accepting this as an adequate opening statement.

"You may call your first witness."

"We'd like to start by questioning Qian Kun." The questioning went on for what felt like an hour to Y/N. The prosecution methodically called up every remaining member of WayV, one by one running through the facts again and again. She was sure the jury had to be sick of hearing the same story by now, but it was evident she was looking for a loophole. The man in her bluetooth agreed as much. What she didn't expect, though, was the first witness after that.

"Next, I call Y/N (L/N) to the stand." Eyes widening, she heard the man in her ear whisper, objection.

"Objection!"

"On what grounds?" The judge asked.

"The tribunal has proper objection when the trier of fact may be confused or misled by a lawyer serving as both advocate and witness. The opposing party has proper objection where the combination of roles may prejudice that party's rights in the litigation. A witness is required to testify on the basis of personal knowledge, while an advocate is expected to explain and comment on evidence given by others. It may not be clear whether a statement by an advocate-witness should be taken as proof or as an analysis of the proof."

Basically, what she was saying was that, by using her as a witness, the lawyer would be confusing the jury on which parts of her arguments were testimony, and which were legal advocacy. It was a valid argument, and she had already gained the permission to act as an advocate by the tribunal, (a fancy word for the court). Therefore, it was well within their rights to object.

"Objection sustained, for the time being." The judge agreed. "Let the record show that, should your testimony become integral to the case, the objection will be reevaluated." She nodded curtly in thanks.

Annoyed, but not giving up, the lawyer continued to go through witnesses. The next ones were women Y/N had never seen before in her life. There were a total of four, all of varying ages. She found it difficult to remember any of their names. As far as she picked up, the first two had been sold into slavery and escaped their masters, one had been supposedly attempted upon, but not caught, and the final claimed to have been raped by YangYang of all people.

"I would like to cross-examine the witnesses." Y/N stated as the trial continued. Speaking to the first girl, she kept her cool. She didn't have a choice in this moment but to follow every direction, take note of every answer and movement. She was starting to wish she had eaten. Still, now wasn't the time to think about this. There was a good- no, a near 100% chance at least one of these witnesses wouldn't hold up in court. She just had to figure out which one.

The first and second were the most difficult. With similar, yet vague stories about being picked up in seedy areas, thrown into a van, and suddenly being awoken under the direction of a new master, it was nearly impossible to confirm or deny their honesty. While they were under oath, words were easily brushed a side. Hell, WayV was doing it right now.

The fourth witness was where she started to get lucky. The man in her earbud told her to demand a medical examination in regards to the rape, and she almost immediately recanted her charges. This didn't look good for them, and the jury was swaying. The final, most pivotal testimony, though, was the third. This girl, around the age of 20 or so if she had to guess, had claimed to have almost been kidnapped at a WayV concert, but got away. Thankfully, she had someone on the outside able to pull her any details she wanted. This could be her ticket.

"Miss, can you tell me exactly what happened on the night in question?" Sniffling with a fair amount of dramatics, she pushed her faded green hair away from her face. She needed to get her roots redone, her makeup was a walking disaster, and her outfit screamed koreaboo. Not only that, but her little show was basically terrible.

"Yes... I went to go see WayV in Seoul because I am-" She paused, letting her eyelids flutter. "I was one of their biggest fans. At the end of the show, I went to go look around, because I wanted to experience it for as long as possible. I found the entrance to the back parking lot, and who did I find there but Xuxi himself!" The use of his name- especially one that wasn't his stage name- by this trash? It made her sick to her stomach. Still, she continued.

"Go on?"

"He pushed me up against the stadium wall and asked me if I wanted to get on the tour bus with him. Of course I said yes, but when we got on, I noticed like, five other girls! Of course, he didn't like any of them as much as me, but it was super fishy, so I tried to leave. He grabbed me and told me that I couldn't go, so I jerked my arm away and ran for dear life!"

So much for being a great lawyer- the prosecution had really put this clown up here? As a serious witness? She became more confident as she saw the jury's faces fall and scrunch, evidently feeling the same way about this girls as she did. Now for the closer...

"Miss, I'll remind you that you're under oath. And in light of that, I'd like to put forth these facts: on the night in question, exactly twenty four minutes after the closing song, the entirety of WayV was escorted to the front foyer for a two-hour fansign, giving them a direct alibi for your timeframe backed by hundreds, if not thousands of witnesses." The judge's eyebrows raised as she waited for the witness' statement. When none came, the judge called the room's attention.

"Lying under oath is a federal crime that could be met with a probation, fine, or a prison sentence up to five years. You will be taken for further investigation, and your rights will be read to you." Y/N suppressed a smile as the girl was escorted through the main floor of the courtroom. She knew she should be professional, leave it at that, but she couldn't help it. Just before the girl exited through the side door, Y/N yelled,

"And keep Lucas's name out of your mouth!" With a slight murmur starting anew in the room, the judge slammed the gavel onto the desk.

"Order in my court! Miss Y/N, may I remind you that you are at risk of being held in contempt?"

"Yes, I apologize." She quickly muttered, already embarrassed by the action. As she said this, though, the other lawyer smirked, stepping up.

"Your honor, we'd like to speak to one more person, if that's alright."

"Of course, the trial may continue." Nodding the lady thanked her, spinning around to face the faces in the seats.

"The prosecution calls Wong Yuk-Hei to the stand."

Go to Chapter 10

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theskyexists · 5 years ago

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the amazing she-ra 5

i am LOVING this first episode. they’re TRULY the underdogs now. people are hiding with magic. they live in tents. they’ve lost their edge. they’re actually leaning into the horrors of war now

Shadowweaver says OOC stupid things but it doesn’t matter because the princesses shut it down satisfactorily. Adora is weighed down by responsibility in a cool way.

Catra is staking out the enemy and weaseling her way in. (yessss)

‘You don’t need to say it! I know. I made that choice. I’m living with the consequences.’ I LOVE THIS ADORA

I LOVE THIS WRITING. Catra and Glimmer are THE greatest pair ever. Glimmer is smart enough to poke right through Catra’s defenses - and NOW they’re in the same situation - Glimmer says so - and immediately the prison wall fades away - and they’re both invited for dinner. THAT DELICIOUS WRITING

i do love how shadowweaver has been this snarky aunt for two seasons now.

Hord Prime shows us Adora in danger and Catra is like; FUCK YOU ADORA’S MINE (TO DESTROY) !!!!

I love Hord Prime’s wonderfully manipulative dinner. And I love glimmer quietly crying and I love Catra being like HRMMMM I DONT LIKE THIS. the subtle animations are so great - the close-ups

the way Catra speaks to Hord Prime - the way she’s really fuckin scared and the way Hord Prime says ‘little sister’. The way they make him seem unbeatable. I LVOE IT.

AND I LOVE THESE VISIONS FOR ADORA

jezus but how few people really live in etheria ?

the propaganda and the tech to boost prime’s image everywhere....ugh it’s delicious. im also happy Entrapta is back and on the good side instead of helping Catra be a bitch to Adora. and im glad the princesses are wary of her.

hahahaah awww Bo came to give adora breakfast and then he panics when she’s lying on the floor. I ALSO LOVE BO AND ADORA TOGETHER BEST

goddamnit Bo YAH! finally somebody who effectively protects someone from the masses. fuck off micah!

Love the princesses acting on their own - love Scorpia mediating, love mermista stepping up, love Entrapta using her .....intelligence

I love how Hord Prime manipulating Glimmer is used to show us more about his empire.

‘i only want to bring peace’ - but also i destroyed all these worlds. how is that...how is that even surface compatible?? like no attempt is made to align those two things.

wait....the heart of etheria will destroy the universe? why??? why is that the assumption. and why...does Hord Prime want that? i....

the comedy of the princesses doing a mission alone is GREAT

IM SO HAPPY THE PRINCESSES GOT TO HIT ENTRAPTA WHERE IT HURTS. now THIS is the right level of comedy versus hurt

the way scorpia rolled to cover frosta in her bulk!

i love how adora is like - HAH sleep is great actually! wow!!

because of the underlying grievances that we EXPERIENCED as audience, this friendship moment actually LANDS

I REINSTATE MY HOORAY!!! (hahahaha god i love scorpia). oh my god Micah saying he trusts glimmer’s friends to save her - fuckin hell - heart squeeze

LOOK AT THAT SHIT. LOOK AT IT!!! Glimmer being angry at Catra - but then recanting and showing vulnerability. Catra showing vulnerability by acquiescing. GOD!!!

‘why did you do it?’ OH GOD ARRGHGHHG THATS SO FUCKING PAINFUL. why does Catra scratch Adora? Because she doesn’t understand - seems to not make the effort to understand!! because she’s never understood that everybody always hurt her - she never fucking saw when it was right in front of her. THat’s even worse in a way than being hurt.

god the fuckin scale. the planet getting bombarded from space....jezus christ.

theres a hallway with light and dark at the end - its implied she goes into the dark - BECAUSE SHE INTENDS TO HIDE FROM WHO FOLLOWS HER

wow she instantly realises he’s hordak. ha!

Catra is being so open with Glimmer. She’s REALLY REALLY! off balance

they have a talking ritual!!!! THEYRE BONDING ABOUT ADORA BEING A DORK!!!!

Catra realises that nothing she was doing on Etheria had any value to her!!!! I LOVE THIS SEASON SO MUCH

I love how Adora gets to be such a badass dork this season!!!! Bo and Adora + Glimmer and Catra are the BEST COMBINATION

godDAMN they made these clones creepy. damn i LOVE Hord Prime!!!

catra/glimmer......tho.....

she pushes her onto the bed and kneels before her, holding her hands. DUDES. MY DUDES!!!! catra is they gayest cat in existence

‘do one good thing in your life!’ - oh OUCH god, you can feel the whole weight of all the hurt and injustice she’s experienced in ‘dont talk to me like you know me!’

HAHAHAHAHAHAH BO losing his mind and Adora being a hilarious himbo is SO GOOD

I LOVE CATRA’S ABSOLUTELY HEARTBREAKING ADORABLE MEMORY AND HALLUCINATIONS

‘im alway going to be your friend’ - ‘i’ll never say sorry to anybody’ GODDD

‘all i do is hurt people, there’s no one left in the entire universe who cares about me’ - a reasonable assumption based on your behaviour except for the fact that Adora has been trying to reach you for 4 FUCKING seasons with hand outstretched

THAT WAS SO FUCKING DRAMATIC I AM IN LOVE !! IN LOVE WITH THEM!!!!

are you fucking SERIOUS - ENTRAPTA MADE AN AB WINDOW IN BO’S SPACE SUIT AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA

the animation in this goddamn season is CRAZY and INCREDIBLE

I ADORE Catra the self Martyr i ADORE that she’s going to go through the wringer still in Hord Prime’s hands.

THIS SEASON IS WORTH ALL THE REST

are YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME- i HATE THAT SHIT WHY MUST YOU MAR THIS SEASON WITH AN INTERRUPTION OF AN APOLOGY. STOP IT!!! IT’S NOT FUN IT’S NOT SATISFYING IT RUINS THE MOMENT IT WEAKENS THE EMOTION BY DRAGGING IT OUT FUCK!!!!

well i guess that was pretty good with Adora. wish they had made that a little bit longer

i love entrapta. she’s such a perfect element to throw into the mix. and her connections with AI’s are great

that scorpia and swift wind talk is so beautiful. they are also the PERFECT pair. ‘gosh have you ever noticed how many moons we have here? it’s weird.’ HAHAHAHA

they’re visiting a planet that’s been conquered by Prime...

I love how they made Entrapta flirty with her tech ahahahaha

i love how Adora is like: oh??? you’re coming to me??? for emotional advice??? uhhhhhh ok haha nice

I LOVE ADORA

i love swift wind’s drunk history retelling of what’s going on on Etheria - especially his impression of shadowweaver and his batman micah

Bo sure is very bad at forgiveness himself lol

‘well im NOT! running awayy that is. i AM smart’ AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! i love you adora

Adora spewing all her bullshit about Catra to total strangers ahahaha

this was SUCH amazing teamwork!!!

AND THAT MOMENT OF SHE-RA BEING BACK!!!!

GLIMMER ACKNOWLEDGING SHE MADE A MISTAKE AND THAT BO DESERVES TO BE MAD AND MAYBE THINGS WON’T BE THE SAME AGAIN BUT SHE WON’T STOP TRYING TO MAKE IT BETTER AND SHE’LL BE THERE IF HE’S EVER READY

FUCKING TEARS BABEY

jezus christ !! that was good!!! i take it back - it was a stupid interruption (they could have just had Bo respond ‘eh’ at an attempt at apology from glimmer....maybe) but they made the final apology INCREDIBLE

‘i can’t just leave her...’ the voice acting in this is sO GOOD

Catra made her whole plan to keep Adora away from Prime based on the assumption that if Glimmer was in Prime’s hands, then Adora would come to rescue her no matter the danger. So she saved Glimmer. But SHE FAILED TO REALISE THAT ADORA WOULD DO THE SAME FOR HER AHAHAHAHAHAHAA

the amazing thing about these highly tech advanced societies is that none of them have invented security cameras

glimmer getting some ptsd flashes

I KNEW that the heart of etheria was built by the First Ones to fight Hordak. Makes Mara’s decision a bit more ---- hMMMM not as great. Because Hordak has killed countless worlds since!

the hive mind lol. jezus Prime is so terrible.

oh my god the very concepts of Prime when behind a fictional buffer are so archtypically delicious. Catra’s glowy green eyes and full bow. hohhohhohho. that uniform also looks great

so Prime could do this to everyone but he chose to surround himself with clones. goddamn.

oh damn that lean-in, those hands on her neck. hmmmhm. gay

she FLINCHES when Prime lays a hand on her shoulder. DAMN. love it

‘you will give me she-ra’ ---- isn’t that what she’s been offering all along? lol

AND THEN HE LEAVES ADORA WITH A BRAINWASHED CONTROLLED PUPPET CATRA WHO ATTACKS HER

OH ITS SO DELICIOUS

brainwashed Catra is really sexy and disturbing hahahahahaha

this fight is so well choreographed. Catra letting herself almost fall, Adora gathering her into her arms, the scratch across the back, the damn knee into the midriff (OUCH), the dangling her in turn.

‘i always hated that guy in particular - and also all the other guys i hit on the way in.’ LOLOLOLOL

THE CHEEK TOUCH - THE TEARS AND SMILE - THE GREEN EYES AND THE BACKHAND AFJLDJFDSJFLKDSJSDFKSDFJ

‘you’re such an idiot!’

‘yeah! i know!’

I LOVE THEM AAAAAAAAAAAAA ITS SO TRUE AHAHAHAHAHAHAI LOVE THEM

‘im going to take you home’

‘promise?’

NOELLE WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO ME

Adora watches Catra probably die and fall off into a endless pit. JUMPS IN AFTER HER ONE SECOND LATER

Prime really did miscalculate lol - his ship’s been destroyed by one stab at a server.

CATRA ALMOST DYING AND ADORA TRANSFORMING WITH GLOWY EYES GODDAMN!!!! HOLDING CATRA INTO HER ARMS BRIDAL STYLE. NEW OUTFIT!! WALKING INTO THE SHIP LIKE A BOSS. AND HEALS HER. HEY ADORA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND SHE FUCKING

PURRS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

all the fucking crying is so good

‘I kNOW YOU ALL HATE ME!” ‘I NEVER HATED YOU’ ‘Then you’re dumber than I thought’ HAHAHAHAHA i love how Catra cannot accept Adora’s friendship because she cannot forgive herself. but Adora never fucking gets it because she has the emotional intelligence of a crab!!!! the problem is that Adora is the exact shape of Catra’s heart - which is one big open wound. And if she presses - all she does is cause hurt

Catra is so adorable looking god.....

SPINERELLA AND NETOSSA KISSED!!!!!!!! awwwwwww they’ve been so cute for so long and they only got more and more screentime and Awwwww

Not-Hordak and ‘dehydrated protein slaw’ AhAHAHAHA

how did they find us? UHHH THERES A CHIP IN CATRA’S SPINE????

ADORA TELLING CATRA WHAT’S UP!! YES! Catra in a corner. Catra on her damn KNEES. ADORA BLUSHING AT HOLDING HER HAND

their first impulse is to hold each other at the ship shaking.

CATRA IS BLUSHING LOOKING AT ADORA TRANSFORM

SHE-RA CAN LITERALLY FLY THROUGH SPACE - well. make matter from light, breathe in a vacuum, jumpt from one asteroid to another....

I AM GLIMMER IN THIS: YEAAAHHHHHH!!!!!

Catra is very lucky that her biggest likely hater is already on her side: glimmer

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SPINERELLAAAA. what a fuckin bait and punch goddamn! making them so cute and then foreshadowing it perfectly and then BAM

CATRA IS CONFIDENT ENOUGH TO MESS WITH ADORA BY LITERALLY JUMPING INTO ADORA’S LAP

fjadslkfasdjflkadjfsja

CATRA IS

PURRING

catra is so effortlessly cool sitting in the window sill

i am actually loving that they have a not-Hordak with them. it humanises those clones a lot

this prince has farsight but they NEVER thought to recruit him BEFORE???

FUCKIN - I LOVE how spinerella and netossa have gotten so much more screentime - relevant to the plot and also revealing their characters. i wish we’d got this from the start!

well now i ship perfuma and scorpia lolololol

HAHAHAHAHA i LOVE this Seahawk and Mermista hiding behind a bar because of ex victims skjsfajfklds

Prince Peekabloo has an AMAZING design, but also he must be a fake. IT MUST BE DOUBLE TROUBLE. double trouble has TASTE

MERMISTA LOOKS SO COOL IN THAT OUTFIT - but also especially chipped and in shadows. they do love chipping people’s love interests

SCORPIA SACRIFICING HERSELF TO SAVE PERFUMA. jezus christ so much love interest drama suddenly wow

‘happy anniversary’ that is HEARTBREAKING

what a great ending to a very silly episode. that’s the balance. a last message from the last soldier standing...

‘WHY DOES SPACE HATE ME SO MUCH!?!?!’ hahahahaah

Catra’s fingers shake......

‘take it from somebody who’s defeated you guys, like, a lot’ AAHAHAHA

FINALLY CATRA IS ON THEIR SIDE TO BE THE SMARTS IN TEH ROOM

ADORA LOOKS SO BADASS IN THAT SPACESHIP CHAIR

chipping everyboddy so they’re like zombies was a great story idea.

catra upset at her signs of upset. CUTE

why the FUCK is Adora’s hair out of her spacesuit ahahahahahahaha. IM SO GLAD THAT BO AGREES WITH ME ON THE ADORABLENESS OF CATRAS HELMET HAHAHAHAHAA

catra is happy to see adora laugh again.... : ‘)

CATRA JUST CLAWED THROUGH FIVE CENTIMETERS OF STEEL????!?!?!?!

ADORA IS BLUSHING AAHAHAHAHAHAAAA

I LOVE how Catra is like, WHAT THE FUCK at having lost to these people

Entrapta trying to deal with Wrong-Hordak in existential crisis is a hilarious premise

THE ANGRIER YOU GET THE CUTER YOU ARE!!! I LOVE BO

oh wow! a first ones colony! very cool! this whole planet works against intruders and plays tricks on them. i do like how first ones are definitely like, still imperial shitlords like subtly. i love how Wrong-Hordak has a realisation arc in the background.

HOLY SHIT THIS IS CREEPY

CATRA DISARMED THIS CAT CREATURE WITH HER CUTE SNEEZE AHAHAHAHA

CATRA IS PETTING A CAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AHAHAHAHA EVERY SINGLE THING WE COULD HAVE EVER WANTED IS COMING TRUE

catra is working on not lashing out :’) <= literally adora and also me

Melog is so ADORABLE and imprinted on Catra and LOVES ADORA and AGHGHGHG

I love how Adora can make her eyes glow on command

Castaspella was blushing at Shadowweaver being so close lolololol. wow this is the first time Castaspella has been interesting. ‘and stop me, if i take the power for myself’ i love aunty shadowweaver.

AAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAH WHAT HAHAAHHAAAAHA Catra notices she’s holding Adora’s hand and goes ARGGH and doesn’t just take her hand back but throws it away ahhaahaha. Adora doesn’t even respond. that was so hilarious for some reason.

GLIMMER KISSING CATRA’S CHEEK HELLO??? HELLO?????????

‘is what i would have said before i joined you. go team’ hahahaa

‘you’re wearing hooded cloaks. that’s highly suspicious’ AHAHAHAHAHA fucking meta

I LOVE HOW ADORA IS THE ‘oh god my fuckin friends blowing our cover great’ person here

MELOG IS ALREADY STEALING MUSHROOMS FOR CATRA TO EAT AHAHAHAHA I LOVE THEM

Spinerella and Netossa are so BADASS and i love their fight. it’s so deliciously painful and cool hehehehehe

so the only person im fighting here is!.....my own wife...

I LOVE THEM

spinerella is so op lololol - why did she barely do anything for them when they were still fighting hordak

wrong hordak is so fucking cute ahahahahaha

goddamn that reunion was touching and funny at the same time. and i can actually believe that Prime is having trouble with this slippery team of magic users

I love Netossa’s analysis of the princesses weaknesses. Adora: can’t act to save her life. also extreme hair envy with she-ra

BUT GLIMMER: crippling self-doubt mixed with overwhelming hubris AHAAHAHHAAHAHAHAHA

OH MY GOD SHE SPRITZED CATRA WITH WATER JFDKLDFWDSFKSDFKJLDSJFJDSFKDSLKFSDLFJLKFLKDJFLKS AHAAHAHAAHA

PERFUMA DON”T BE A BITCH TO CATRA. (even though yeah Catra did treat Scorpia bad) she’s right you need to fuckin go for the neck (this episode is gonna show us that you need to damage the chip AND get through to scorpia and it’s going to take catra and perfuma ofc)

awwwww glimmer and bo.... bo is really worried about his dad :’( . this is the first time ive found myself shipping bo and glimmer.....the way he sighs into her arms, turns his face into her neck. Yes....

AWWW CATRA AND ADORA CHALLENGING EACH OTHER AGAIN AWWWW

BO’S DADS LEFT HIM A CLUE IN A FUCKING DAD JOKE ahahaahahahahaah

perfuma is really getting on my nerves here. ‘we dont throw tanks at our friends’ uhhhh shes trying to kill you. just let perfuma get electrocuted adora

AH THEY FINALLY GIVE AN ORIGIN STORY FOR ‘GRAYSKULL’! ha! i do love how they keep elaborating on the First Ones as tyrants as well

hmm perfuma was right i guess. i didnt really like that development. urgh god perfuma is so grating lol..

i wonder how shadowweaver and catra are gonna....deal with each other....

hah. shadowweaver tries to weasel in with Adora again. but Adora won’t stand for it again....

Melog literally acts out Catra’s emotions and jumps adora playfully. hehehehe

shadowweaver is such a fucking bitch. i wonder if we’ll ever get her to admit guilt or apologise

no adora. you have to fucking defend catra to shadowweaver. THAT is what you have to do now that you can!

SHE JUST JUMPED INTO FIRE FOR ADORA

shadowweaver preying on Adora and Catra again goddddd. let this be an episode in which they finally shuck her off. Adora fucking THINK, the only reason you could transform in the first place was BECAUSE of Catra.

YEAHHHHH CATRA!!!!!!!! GETTING ALL THE INFO BEFORE ADORA GETS MANIPULATED INTO SOMETHING SHE DIDN’T CHOOSE. naturally she still chooses to do it.

Melog lies half on top of Adora while Catra watches her.... god fuckin hell Melog being an extension of Catra’s feelings is so fucking AMAZING

holy FUCK that confrontation. (i love how every confrontation between adora and catra starts in roughhousing - their language is extremely physical). this is the softer version of catra’s and adora’s dynamic. Catra loves Adora and she wants Adora to choose HER, LIFE WITH HER. ‘what do you want?’ (WHAT ABOUT ME??) But Adora always chooses some higher hero purpose over her. and she doesn’t want to watch Adora die....

‘i dont have to watch it happen...’

god fuckin hell this season.

shadowweaver BELIEVES that she did the right things - of course. and that’s fascinating. and I love that Adora finally totally truly was like: YOU RUIN PEOPLE AND I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU. fuck yeah!

so when was the moment that Adora couldn’t become she-ra anymore? think it’s when she lost track of Catra....

I love Melog - I love how Catra cannot hide from her feelings anymore - at all.

the way glimmer asks adora ‘are you scared?’ ugh MY HEART

i love martyrs. i fucking LOVE martyrs.

oh my god hallucination Catra touching foreheads with Adora.....

EVERYTIME Glimmer just straight up shows Catra affection? that’s some good shit. i thought we were gonna have Glimmer going after Catra for her mother’s death at one point but no....not at all. and i dont mind it

GLIMMER SAID I LOVE YOU TWICE TO BO AND THEN BO SAID IT BACK AND KISSED HER DSFKSDLBJDS FOREHEAD !!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I LOVE MARA!!!

the fights this season have been SO! GOOD!

i love how they’ve set up that Glimmer is a fucking POWERHOUSE. she can turn the tide of battle in a blink!

naturally they pit Micah against Glimmer. jfc this poor family....

there is something important about Prime not remembering Mara....

SHE BEAT MICAH SHE BEAT HIM!!!! WALKING RIGHT THROUGH HIS STORM OF DARK MAGIC.

SCORPIA CRADLED BO LIKE A BABY

SHADOWWEAVER SAVING CATRA? FOR ONCE???? FOR ONCE CHOOSING CATRA OVER POWER????? FUCK THAT’S CATHARTIC EVEN IF IT WAS ONLY TO GET ADORA TO THE HEART

catra has such a soft heart really. she still, after everything, loves shadowweaver. god....

SHE SAID SHE WAS PROUD OF CATRA. SHE --- SHE - SHE SACRIFICED HERSELF. GOD THE VOICEACTING FOR CATRA WHEN SHE - ADORA FALLING TO HER KNEES. THEIR PSEUDO MOTHER... AGHLDJDWFJJDSLF

FUCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKk

EVERY SINGLE LINE IS SO GOOD, so well-acted. the ‘im ready’ the way she says ‘catra’ like she can’t take anything anymore

i couldn’t write anything for the whole rest of that i was just covering my mouth with my hands

The fuckiN KISS! the look of PURE LOVE on ADoRA”S FACE

which in the back of my head - they cannot actually cut that in any way - it’s impossible to cut

adora with those blue eyes in the blaze, the magic is beautiful adora excising prime from hordak’s mind (WOW), adora and catra touching foreheads and the slight PURR you can hear, adult bo and glimmer (lookin so nice), adult catra (LOOKING SO HANDSOME in her prom-y outfit,) Glimmer chasing Catra, just, GOD, THE UTENA FUCKING REFERENCE, the way they say they love each other, my GOD, Scorpia being like woah perfuma you look nice, MY GOD MY GOD MY GOD THEM GOING TO SPREAD MAGIC TO THE UNIVERSE GOD!!!!!!

every single thing in this season was worth 4 seasons of enjoyable, entertaining, interesting, frustrating and meh. WOAH! WOAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#she ra #i have been BLOWN! AWAY!!! EVERYTHING WAS WORTH IT #my stuff #vidi #THiS WAS AN EXPERIENCE #OF EPIC PROPORTIONS

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ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 4 years ago

Note

“Though to be entirely fair, she recanted that and showed remorse as far back as Year 4.” No she didn’t, Merula said that in Year 3. (If you mean the “I didn’t mean to talk about him as if he was dead this whole time” line). But she DOES tell you to make it quick cause something smells “like your brother’s rotting corpse.” if you ask her to let you borrow her broom in Year 4. Idc if she’s “joking around” that’s a total bitch move and regression like usual. Merula’s a bitch, and always will be.

Was it Year 3? I could have sworn that line was in Year 4, that it happened right before MC went to meet with Torvus. I could be wrong, I just remember Year 4 being the point that Merula stopped being directly antagonistic. Weirdly, I don’t remember the rotting corpse line from the broomstick scene, and I definitely chose Merula for that story-line. I think I pretty much melted after she mentioned MC saving her from the cursed ice in Year 1, and probably tuned out whatever else she said.

Yeah, Merula tends to fluctuate. She makes progress, and then she slides back. This is especially egregious in the side-quests, but in the main story too. It wasn’t until Year 5 that she made an active effort to be nicer. The moment where she withdrew the idea of Jacob being dead stuck out to me, and being Merula, she obviously didn’t apologize - but her expression made it pretty clear she felt bad about saying it, which was good enough for me.

#Merula Snyde

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go-diane-winchester · 6 years ago

Text

The Travis Aaron Wade debacle and why you should care.

I only write about my boys, Jensen and Jared, and any harm that I feel is coming their way. That harm comes from Misha's mobilizing and his poisonous fanbase. So why am I talking about this? It's got nothing to do with Jensen and Jared? Well, actually, it does. And I am starting to feel, maybe Wade is innocent. I am not saying he is, because the case is still pending. But, thus far, he has only been accused. He hasn't been proven guilty. I am an abuse survivor, having dealt with this horror three different times in my life, twice as a child and once as an adult. If Travis did do any of this, I would back up his accusers, I don't care how much of a friend he was, to Jensen and Jared. Abuse of any kind is intolerable and in Travis's case, some minors were involved. That is unforgivable.

Travis Aaron Wade, in case you didn't know, was accused of sexually harassing and stalking fans at cons and then via social media around 2015. When I first heard this, I believed it because the allegations came at a time when I was fast asleep with regard to this fandom. Even then, I frowned when a recognizable name popped up in this debacle: Emily Rose. So I guess I wasn't as fast asleep as I thought. Emily is the fan who got into a fight with William Shatner over destiel. He even accused her Anti-Bullying Twitter page of being biased. I don't just believe anything this person's name is attached to, because she is a very devious creature. So recently, I decided to dig deeper and came across a report on this case. Upon reading it, I realized something. Almost every single person who has accused Travis is either a minion or heller or both. People mentioned in the case are also minions or hellers or both. That is too much of a coincidence. This is the list of the accusers and the affiliated parties in this case:

Ashley McClintic [first accuser]

Theresa Cotter/Lua James [fled California after Travis's home was vandalized]

Monica Gleberman [lied that she has sex with Jensen and Jared]

Lexi (Alexis) Cooper (@lexicooperxo / @hugsforthemish)

Stacy LePore

Emily Cleghorn [Emily Rose - refused to help Travis when his account was hacked]

Michele Villery [Monica's friend - defamed Travis online]

Jackie Bojarski [Monica's friend - defamed Travis online]

Kristin Justice [claimed Travis kissed her in crowded room]

Reba Snodgrass (@RebaWinchester / @Mishanews)

Jessica Halliday

Jenna DeViller

Kim Swartz

Falon Yates

Janelle Clay Davis [stalked Travis online mobilizing fans against him]

Rike Marie, or Melanie Adeline (@mishasdiary [sent nudes to Travis]

Dominique Teagle

Sgt Stephanie Fiebke [mocked Travis's military career]

Sara Burnhope

Katie Maie Aucter

Elizabeth Wera [told the truth and then retracted statement]

Michelene [only name provided in this report]

Jenna [no other name provided]

What are the odds? The only people Wade went after were Misha's fans, and the only people who tried to help them were Misha's fans. Nope! Something is very off about this whole scenario. This case is a legal one now, so there are certain receipts that are unavailable. However, most of the information, corroborated with many receipts, is on this site: http://www.spntrollsvstravisaaronwade.com/. Be warned the some information is withheld due to the ongoing investigation and the reporter does become subjective. There is also some hearsay in the report, something I am not crazy about. Hearsay has no place in an investigative reports. But the report is thorough, and has various receipts. I am not telling you to believe everything. I am just telling you to keep an open mind.

After reading these reports, about the accusers and their accounts of the events, I have to say the whole situation seems fishy. The accusers made really far-fetched claims and there is proof that some of them not only lied, but some of the sympathizers were stalking Travis for years now, hacking into his account and stabbing a knife into his front door with a note threatening to kill him, his family including the family dogs. Two of the victims confessed to lying about the accusations. The first is Lexi Cooper.

The second is Reba Snodgrass [Mishanews] who was doing a con called Wayward Con, which is why she apologized to Travis. She wanted him to do the con. She did a video confession, but after being reprimanded by hellers on social media, she recanted the apology. Many of the accusers set up gofundme and similar accounts asking for money for legal fees, but never approached lawyers. The more I looked into this, the more sorry I feel for Travis. I am not saying I know what happened, but so far, they look more guilty than he does. Why was there such a full blown ambush against him? If he is innocent, then there were some possible reasons.

Travis was threatening the spinoff

Travis, and I didn't know this, is quite a popular actor, even amongst SPN fans. Fans were choosing him over Kim and Briana. If CW got wind of this, they might have cancelled the Wayward idea and pushed for something with Cole, Travis's character. The hellers didn't want this because their logic was that if they could make Wayward happen, they could make destiel happen. So they couldn't afford for Wayward to fail. That is why Travis had to go.

Travis threatened Cockles

Apparently Travis has said something sweet about Jensen and Jared's friendship. Clif [who is an idiot] made a big deal out of the whole issue because of the possible tinhat angle of what Travis was saying. As a PR person, I would like to tell Clif: stop acting like a suspicious idiot. No one is drawing more attention to the tinhat thing than you are. Try being subtle, stupid fool. You are causing more ripples, instead of letting it just slide. Well, Clif was not the only one that was affected by Travis's lighthearted comments. The hellers were adversely affected too. There are tinhats amongst them, who believe that destiel is cockle's fault. This man's admiration for a friendship rubbed them the wrong way. He needed to be punished.

Threat to Misha's ''popularity''

Misha has been on the show for ten years. No one is demanding for a spinoff for him. Not even his own hellers perhaps because they know Jensen wont join Misha, and Castiel is not entertaining by himself. This new guy pops up and suddenly he is very popular. An account called Tara Larson appeared on Twitter, on the 22th of December 2017, accusing Misha of sexual harassment during his photo ops. Any idiot can see that although none of the pictures are tasteful, they are requested and paid for by fans. So that is not sexual harassment. Fans gave their consent and none of them look like minors. Neutral fans are many things, but they are not stupid. The over-reacher's in our fandom are hellers. The hellers allege that Travis's assistant Vicki did it to tarnish Misha's name. Why would she do that? What does Misha have to do with this debacle. The evidence they use, is this one. Vicki is grey.

However, if you read the whole exchange, you see this:

So Vicki knows what a bibro is? She used to be a fan long before the word bibro was born, so she knows the fandom lingo that is not even part of all the fan's lexicon? I know of hellers who don't know what a heller is. Read the whole exchange here:

http://www.spntrollsvstravisaaronwade.com/events-by-year/2017-2/

Nope, the whole thing sounds suspicious. Especially since, at the time when the account was started and active [it has probably been reported and removed now] Vicki and her daughter were, allegedly, both in surgery. Possible scenario is that one of the hellers set up the Tara Larson account to make Travis look like a bully and to make Misha look like a victim. Because why would Vicki do something like that and then confess to it like an idiot. And on social media no less, even though monitoring social media is part of her job. Either that, or they doctored the screenshot. I think the hellers feel Travis was competition for Misha. According to one heller, who knows Misha personally, this is what she said to Travis about Misha.

Now, a few of them are starting to feel the same way about Alex Calvert perhaps because he is a younger, handsomer, shinier new replacement for Misha.

Why I care and why you should

So far, I have received messages from hellers about Jared's ''bad working conduct''. I have posted on people saying that he abuses his power and Misha on set. One heller told me, Jared intentionally cracked her rib by hugging her too hard during a photo op. I made a post about that. Travis's reality today might be Jared's reality tomorrow. They have accused him of racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia etc. Whose to say they don't take this route tomorrow? I mean, it hypothetically worked on Travis. It might work on Jared. Especially since, they hate Jared more that Travis. And Jared is a friendly ''run across the road to meet the fans'' type of person. One big accusation and boom! it's over. Ironically, everyone distanced themselves from Travis when the scandal hit except Jared. Eventually even he had to distance himself, perhaps by the behest of his manager. It was far too sticky a situation. Travis has dealt with the stalking, harassment and vandalism for three years and counting. I think that is too much for anyone to deal with.

Who knows what the legal outcome will be. I don't know Travis well enough to make any claims about him. Although from what I read, he does seem like a very stupid man with a big mouth. A gullible sucker, if you catch my drift. However, if someone out there does know the truth, please speak up. Remember, if you know something about Travis that is incriminatory, and you remain quiet, you are part of the problem. If you know of his innocence, help him, the way you hope someone will help Jared one day. Either speak to Travis's lawyers or send a confidential email message to this reporter at: [email protected]. Informant names will be kept confidential.

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pengychan · 6 years ago

Text

[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 10

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

To see the version with art by Dara, check it out on Ao3.

Tag for all parts up so far.

A/N: No smut in this chapter either because Some Shit Needed Sorting Out (and also Ernesto was definitely not in the right state of mind). Will make up for that in the next one, I promise!

***

The next morning, after they wake up on the couch - with an aching back, because sleeping huddled together on the couch does no favors to one’s spinal column - Ernesto claims he’s perfectly fine, which is an obvious lie.

Imelda only has to stare for three seconds and a half before he recants and says that he feels better, which seems closer to the truth. He’s functional, if nothing else, enough to take his yapping dogs down for a walk before returning, gaze still downcast. By the time he does, she’s made some breakfast for everyone.

“You're going to rub this in my face at every turn, aren't you.”

The accusation comes as soon as they're alone in the kitchen, with Héctor off to have his morning shower. Imelda pauses while pouring a cup of coffee, and realizes that part of her has been expecting to hear that.

Ernesto has a special knack for being constantly wrong.

“No,” she says quietly, and finishes pouring the coffee. She turns to put it down on the table in front of Ernesto. He’s sitting with an uncharacteristic hunch, gaze fixed on his hands on the table; he brushed his hair, but it’s not as nearly done as it usually is. He doesn't even glance at her, or the cup. “I am not.”

He scoffs, but it lacks the usual bite. He speaks flatly, gaze distant. “As if. The moment you decide to put me in my place, and you need something to hold against me, you will bring this u-"

“I won't. This was my fault.”

The reply causes Ernesto to finally look up at her, blinking, clearly taken aback. “What…?”

Imelda sighs, and pours a cup for herself as well before sitting. She places her hands around the cup, its warmth comforting against her palms. Across the table, Ernesto is doing the same.

“I owe you an apology,” she finally says. “I was the one with the rod. I should have handled it better instead of just assuming immediate aftercare was all you'd need,” she adds, and looks straight at Ernesto. He’s staring at her as though she’s grown antlers. “I knew Héctor and I would be going to Santa Cecilia the next day. We shouldn't have left you on your own. I… misjudged the situation.”

For a moment, Ernesto says nothing - then a bitter expression crosses his features. “You thought I could handle it and I should have. I should have dealt with it. I should--"

“Ernesto,” she cuts him off, and reaches to put a hand on his arm without thinking. “Listen. That's where you’re wrong, that's where we both were wrong. Anyone can experience a drop. Anyone. It doesn't matter how manly you think you are. And I should have known better,” she added, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

Ernesto stares at her hand on top of his own for several moments before he sniffles and abruptly reaches up to wipe this eyes with the heel of his other hand. “I hate it,” he chokes out. “I'm not supposed to be like… like this.”

“It's physiological. It’s not a personal failing.”

There is another sniffle, then Ernesto looks back at her. His mouth is pulled in a tight line, but he’s already losing his battle for control. He’s more vulnerable than Imelda has ever seen him, it is because of her, and she gets absolutely no satisfaction from it; only a sense of shame because this could have been avoided, or softened, if only she hadn’t gone on assumptions.

This is not how she’d wanted to break him.

“You won’t tell anyone,” he chokes out, and Imelda shakes her head.

“No, no one.”

“You won’t bring this up again.”

She squeezes his hand. “Only if you decide to.”

Ernesto nods and, very slowly, he pulls his hand away from her grip. He rests both elbows on the table, burrows his face in his hands, and bursts in tears. The keening sound she heard before, the one he made while trying to hold back, is gone. Everything that comes with a bad drop - the hurt, the fear, the guilt and shame and the crushing sense of worthlessness - leaves him in broken, harsh sobs that shake his entire frame. Something drips down his face, into the cooling cup of coffee. His dogs, who were sitting under his chair, suddenly stand on their hind legs, whining, pawing at his shins to get his attention… or to snap him out of it.

Imelda won’t remember standing up later, but she must have, because the next moment she’s standing by his chair, and reaching to touch his head. Ernesto turns blindly and then he’s pressing his face against the apron, shaking, arms reaching around her waist to hold onto her.

She tries to think of something to say, but her mind draws a blank, and she just combs her fingers through his hair. In the end, she doesn’t need to speak: the next moment Héctor is in the kitchen, too, fresh out of the shower, one hand on Ernesto’s shuddering back and murmuring that it’s all right, he’s all right, let it all out, amigo.

He does let it all out, or at least a good chunk of it, and in the end his sobs subside and turn into whimpers first, then shuddering breaths. By the time he falls quiet and pulls back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and mumbling that he’s fine, he’s all right, give me a moment, the coffee is hopelessly cold and Imelda pours it down the drain. She fills a glass with water instead, and puts it on the table without a word, along with a napkin. Ernesto blows his nose and takes the glass, just as silently, to drink in slow gulps.

“Gracias,” he rasps, putting it down, and Imelda nods.

“Don’t mention it,” she says, only realizing now that Héctor is nowhere to be seen. “Where…?”

A strumming noise causes her to pause and there he is, in the doorway, guitar in hand. He grins at them both, that boyish grin of his, like nothing at all is wrong. “I thought I’d heard a trumpet,” he says lightly, causing Ernesto to roll his eyes - a small, familiar gesture, and Héctor’s grin widens. “I missed my guitar during the visit. How about a quick show for my favorite public?”

Maybe that’s something else they all need now, a bit of normalcy, and Ernesto nods immediately. Soon enough they’re on the couch, leaning against each other, watching Héctor play a soft tune, and another… and then that odd song he wrote to humor old Chicharrón, one day he’d accidentally locked himself out while Imelda was away and Ernesto wasn’t home.

The old grump had let him wait for either to return in his living room, which was more thoughtful than she’d thought him capable of. Imelda had invited him for dinner to return the favor, and while he had no accepted - he wanted to be on his own, apparently - from that day on he’d occasionally stop to talk with Héctor about music, and she was the only other person in the entire building he never failed to greet upon meeting. A real greeting, not a grunt.

Ernesto isn’t especially fond on the ending of that one - his deep and meaningful comment when he first heard it was something along the lines of ‘who’d want to fuck an ugly woman’, which almost resulted in impromptu castration and was never repeated in her presence again - but this time, he says nothing… and halfway through the song, he even hums along.

It’s progress and, really, his voice is nice to listen to when he’s not raising it to sing over hers.

***

“You lied about having done it before, didn’t you?”

Imelda’s question is spoken quietly, but it may very well be a gunshot: it causes Héctor to go very still, and Ernesto to recoil. When Héctor looks at his best friend, he sees him immediately looking down, shoulders tense - a reaction more telling than anything he may say.

And, to Héctor’s immense shame, it comes as no surprise at all.

Of course he lied, he just wouldn’t have admitted having no experience in something while we did. He’s always been like this, I should have known, should have guessed. I should have asked. Should have questioned.

But they hadn’t, not him and not Imelda - who, he can tell now, is thinking exactly the same thing: they should have known. It isn’t often he sees guilt on her face; he does now, and it is gutting.

Ernesto, however, doesn’t see it. His gaze is fixed on the snoozing chihuahua on his knees, snuggled up against the palm of his hand. He’s been getting… better throughout the day, but he has yet to return to his usual self. Right now, he makes Héctor think of an animal who just realized it set foot in a trap that will spring at the first movement.

“I…” he starts, and falls quiet. Normally, he would deny; now he doesn’t even try. Héctor wants to hug him, wants to strangle him, wants to cry and yell until his face turns blue. It was a stupid lie, damn it, almost as stupid as him for believing it… but he holds back from doing anything, and he lets his gaze shift to Imelda. Her eyes are fixed on Ernesto, her expression unreadable and her frame rigid.

Bad time to ask that question, he thinks. Just don’t get angry. Please, please, don’t get angry.

As though she just heard his mute plea, Imelda lifts her gaze a moment to look at him. Something in her eyes softens, and she gives a very small nod before putting a hand on Ernesto’s shoulder. It makes him wince, but then his frame relaxes, just a little.

“Ernesto,” she calls out. “That wasn’t the truth, was it? You had no experience at all.”

A moment of silence, a shaky intake of breath, and he speaks without looking up. "... Lo siento," he all but whispers. That is enough to make any desire Héctor may have to yell evaporate like a drop of water under the summer sun.

"We know that, amigo," he mutters, shifting close to put a hand on his other shoulder. "It’s all right, we're not mad,” he adds. Imelda gives him a look that spells out ‘speak for yourself’, but she doesn’t argue, so he doesn’t think she’s really angry.

"Of course you are,” Ernesto mutters. His thumb is rubbing Clara’s head in gentle strokes, and he doesn’t look up. His voice is not as desperately hollow as the previous evening, but still worryingly quiet. “I brought it on myself, didn't I?"

It sounds so wrong, hearing Ernesto blaming himself. Usually he will blame everything, and everyone, before he admits to a fault; it is an aspect of him that has always been there. Héctor no longer even noticed it, until Imelda pointed it out to him.

Imelda hesitates - hard to deal with Ernesto just admitting to being in the wrong; it is oddly unsettling - before she sighs. "I don't know if this could have been handled better if you'd told me the truth," she says. "Maybe. Maybe not. We shouldn't have left you alone either way, but we did. You shouldn't have lied to us, but you did. Maybe it wasn't the right time to go this far. You need to trust me, and I-- we need to be able to trust you.”

Ernesto nods in silence; no argument, just that silent nod, gaze low. Imelda sighs again.

“... All right. We can talk about this another time. We’ll just put this thing on hold for a whi--”

“No,” Ernesto speaks suddenly, lifting his head. There is a note of desperation in his voice. “I told you, I’m sorry!”

“Hey, hey, we know,” Héctor says quickly, and his hand slides to rub his upper back. “It’s just--”

“And I’m fine, you said I’ll be fine!”

“Yes, but that’s not the point. It’s best to let some time pass before we consider giving it another go, if we do at all,” Imelda says, her voice sterner. “Last thing we need is for you to have another drop because we didn’t-- what is it?” she adds, her expression turning into a confused one.

Ernesto blinks at her. “Ah. You meant-- that. I thought--” he trails off, gaze shifting between the two of them, then he clears his throat and looks down again. “Uh, nevermind.”

Héctor and Imelda share a perplexed gaze. “You thought… what?” he asks. Ernesto shakes his head, and… is it him, or his friend seems to be actually turning red? He grins, leaning in to rest his head on his knee so that that he can peer up at him, legs against the couch’s backrest. The chihuahua on his other knee licks his hair, tail wagging, before jumping off to join the others at the other end of the room. “Oh, you thought we were gonna call the whole thing off?”

“Shut up,” Ernesto grunts, looking away. Ah, now that sounds more like him. Héctor’s grin gets, if possible, even wider.

“Thought we were gonna leave you out in the cold, mi amigo?”

“Another word and I’ll break that guitar over your head.”

“Oh, now you sound a lot better,” Héctor laughs, and gets upright again before he slaps a hand on his shoulder. “See, you’re almost you again.”

Ernesto scoffs, but he says nothing to protest, though he seems supremely offended by Imelda’s snicker. He leans back on the couch with a huff, crossing his arms. “Whatever,” he grumbles, but then Héctor leans in to kiss his temple and the scowl fades a little. He glances up at them, and seems to shrink a little. “It’s just… we’re having a good time,” he mutters.

“Most of the time,” Imelda agrees, and that simple remark feels like a victory to Héctor. She seems a little unsure for a moment, eyeing Ernesto like she’s just noticed something for the first time, but then she shakes her head and stands. “I think I’ll go fix some lunch. Are you going to help, Ernesto?”

“... Huh? Why me?”

“Why not? You’re such a fine cook,” she says, and suddenly smiles, reaching to tilt up his chin. She stares at him in the eye, smirking. “Or… may it be that that delicious dinner was actually take-away from a restaurant?”

“Wha-- it was not!” Ernesto protests, his voice a little too high to convey the sense of outrage he is probably trying to show. Imelda raises an eyebrow, and Héctor can see his shoulders dropping. “... I. I had it delivered,” he mumbles.

As Héctor sticks a fist directly in his mouth not to laugh too loudly, Imelda smirks. “I knew it,” she says lightly, and lets go of his chin. Héctor laughs as she leaves.

“Something you should have learned, amigo - you don’t get to keep secrets from her forever,” he tells him, leaning back and reaching for his guitar again. He tunes it a little better, gives it a strum. “Sooner or later, she finds out.”

“Hmph,” Ernesto mutters, frowning, but he says nothing for a few more minutes.

Héctor plays a song he knows well, and normally he would sing along, but this time he does not: he seems to be mulling over something not precisely pleasant. With a sigh, he stops playing and sets the guitar aside. “A peso for your thoughts.”

Ernesto shoots a quick glance towards the kitchen before replying. “Did she meet her?”

“Huh?”

“My mother.” He spits out that word like it’s something rotten, and Héctor shifts a little. It is hard not to think of the look on her face, of the desperation in her voice when she asked for news of her only son, and it makes the contempt in his voice even harder to stomach. Still, he has his reasons and it’s not his place to question it.

“Oh. Right. Yes,she-- we were together when she approached.”

“I bet she turned on the waterworks,” Ernesto mutters, an icy edge to his voice.

A sigh. “She did weep,” he admits, trying not to let pity show in his voice.

“Heh. Go figure. Easy to think I’m the ungrateful bastard, making my poor mamá cry.”

“Imelda doesn’t think that.”

“Of course she thinks that,” Ernesto snaps, and makes a face. “That poor soul unfortunate enough to be my mother,” has parrots her. “My old man would agree, if anything.”

“She doesn't know. I never told her.”

“... I know.”

There is another brief silence, then Héctor sighs and reaches in his pocket. The envelope feels oddly heavy in his hand. “I mean, if you’re gonna throw it away, that’s… it’s up to you,” he adds, and holds it out. Ernesto stares at it for a few moments before taking it, and frowning at it. For a second he looks as though he’s about to crumple it, then he sets his jaw.

“I won’t open it,” he says, in a tone that challenges him to say otherwise. He doesn’t, and his glare fades into something so bitter before he sighs, looking away. “... How did she look?”

One word - fine - almost makes it to Héctor’s lips, but in the end he bites it back. No, she was not fine, and to say so would be a lie. He doesn’t want to guilt his best friend, but he doesn’t want to lie, either. “Older,” he finally says. Ernesto gives him a look that spells clearly ‘well, duh’, and he shrugs. “And… sad.”

“I see.” That cold voice, again, but not quite as firm as it should be. “She brought it on herself.”

“... Yes.”

“She had her chance. She blew it, and I--”

“Héctor!” Imelda’s voice comes from the kitchen, and it’s a relief, really. This is not a conversation he wants to keep up.

“Sí, mi amor?”

“Come over, my knight, I need help!”

“A jar you need to open?”

“A jar I need to reach.”

Ah, yes. He always puts things too high up when he tidies up the kitchen, and sometimes it’s a problem. Happens, when you’re ridiculously tall and the love of your life ridiculously tiny. “Help is coming!” he announces, and gives Ernesto a pat on the shoulder before he goes to help Imelda in the kitchen.

He doesn’t see his best friend looking down at the envelope in his hands, biting his lower lip before he scowls and forcefully shoves it down his pocket.

***

“When you said you were fixing lunch, I didn’t think you meant sandwiches.”

“Is that a complaint? You don’t have to eat that guajolota if it’s not good enough for you.”

“I’d be happy to eat it if you don’t want it…” Héctor mutters, and he reaches for it, only for Ernesto to scoff and slap his hand away.

“Hands off, pendejo. And that’s not what I meant! I just thought-- we could have bought this from any street vendor.”

Imelda shrugs, taking a bite of her guajolota. “I like it best homemade. It was too much of a nice day to stay cooped up in the apartment, with the park so close by,” she adds. It is a nice day, warm and sunny but not unbearably hot, with a mild breeze. Sitting in the shade on a bench, only a few steps away from a pond and with Ernesto’s dogs looking up at them with wagging tails - clearly hoping for a bite that they won’t be getting, oh no, not from her - Imelda knows coming here was a good idea.

Ernesto looks better; not yet fine, precisely, but a world away from the wreck she and Héctor found the previous evening, and some sunlight and fresh air will help. She supposes the fact he’s squabbling with Héctor over whose sandwich is bigger is a good sign, too - so she leans back, looks at the sun’s rays on the surface of the pond, and finishes her lunch.

She’s just swallowed the last bite when Ernesto calls out suddenly.

“... Imelda?”

Hearing her name coming from him feels almost as foreign as his hesitant tone. Imelda tries to think of last time he addressed her like that, by her name, and on top of her mind she can’t think of any. It happened, it must have, but it’s a ridiculously rare occurrence. With that thought in mind, she turns to glance at Ernesto. He’s sitting at the other end of the bench, Héctor between them - as always - and staring down, like he suddenly finds his own knees extremely interesting.

“Yes?”

“About, er…” he clears his throat. “About my mother.”

Oh. That.

Imelda is aware, vaguely, of how Héctor has stiffened. She puts a hand on his for just a moment, a gentle touch to reassure him. “... You don’t owe me an explanation,” she says. It is true that the sight had unsettled her, and it is true she cannot imagine cutting off one’s mother like that… she does not know the whole story. Not even half of it. She jumped to conclusions, based on assumptions.

It is a habit she thought she grew out of, but clearly she has not.

A nod, and Ernesto lets out a long breath. “No. I do not,” he agrees, and turns to look at her. He looks remarkably calm, but there is something else there just beneath the surface - something unpleasant like a headache that can be kept at bay, but never really goes away. “You don’t know what happened, right?”

Imelda shakes her head. “No. Héctor never mentioned a thing.”

“I promised not to,” her husband says, just a touch defensively.

Ernesto’s gaze shifts between them, and he finally shrugs. “I figure you’d rather know what my beef with her is, in case you run into her again. Or hell forbid, my old man,” he adds, and gives an odd laugh, like it’s the worst thing he can imagine happening to anyone. Imelda can’t say she thinks it is, but it likely wouldn’t be too pleasant either. From what she knows and has heard of Estéban de la Cruz, he is not the kind of person she would invite for dinner.

Or anywhere in the vicinity of her home, really.

“... Of course. I’m listening.”

There is a moment of hesitation before Ernesto speaks, glancing around to make sure no one is nearby. When he does, however, his voice is firm as always… and just a touch dramatic, but Imelda suppose some drama is just part of the package that is Ernesto de la Cruz.

“Well. As you might have noticed, I’m not entirely straight.”

Imelda looks at Héctor. Héctor glances at her. They both turn to stare at Ernesto, raising one eyebrow in near-perfect sync and causing him to rolls his eyes.

“At least give me a surprised gasp. Anything.”

“What an astonishing turn of events,” Imelda says flatly.

“... You’re the worst public I’ve ever had.”

“Ay, Dios mío! How could you hide this from me all along?” Héctor exclaims, putting a hand over his heart for extra drama and managing to, somehow, not burst out laughing. Ernesto’s mouth twitches in what’s almost a smile before he catches himself and clears his throat.

“That’s better. Anyway, I… I couldn’t just be too in-your-face about it. You know.”

She does know. Santa Cecilia is a small town that, sometimes, seems a world away from life as they know it now in Mexico City. For all the many good things she loves about it, open-mindedness on such matters is not something to take for granted - not in older people especially. And not, for God’s sake, from Estéban de la Cruz.

All of a sudden, even though the sun is still shining, she feels like the temperature around her has dropped by several degrees. “Yes,” she finds herself saying. “I know.”

Ernesto nods. “So, I had to be careful.”

“I covered for him more times than I can count.” Héctor smiles a little. “As far as his parents were concerned, he stayed over a lot to sleep on weekends.”

That causes Ernesto to chuckle. “Heh, right. I showed up in the morning for coffee, maybe slept a hour on the couch, and then I was off to my place again. I never meet any guy close to home - it was usually someplace around, like the next town over, or--”

“How did they find out?” Imelda blurts out. It seems the most logical conclusion, but Ernesto gives her a look that is almost offended.

“They didn’t find out! Give me some credit here! I was careful and I can act. They never suspected a thing,” he protests, and reaches to pick up one of the dogs, who’s been pawing at his shin. He sighs, placing her - Clara again, the little diva - on his lap. “... Well. They never would have found out if I hadn’t grown tired to hide. I shouldn’t have to. I was doing nothing wrong,” he adds. He’s stroking Clarita’s fur with a gentleness that is at odds with the vicious note in his voice.

Imelda nods, but her thoughts go to their family, what they would think of this… arrangement between the three of them. Óscar and Felipe are young, maybe they wouldn’t mind, but her parents… por Dios, they may very well have a stroke. They’re doing nothing wrong, they’re hurting no one, but they simply wouldn’t see it that way. Most people would at the very least raise an eyebrow, she is well aware of that.

The thought of it becoming known makes her uneasy, even though she cares little for anyone’s opinion of her. And Ernesto cares an awful lot what people think of him. “... Did you tell them?”

He sighs. “I had the bad idea of telling my mother.”

Oh, Imelda thinks. Oh. She can see where that is going. “... And she wasn’t pleased?”

Ernesto shrugs. “Well, no. Not angry, either. Disappointed, I guess, but not mad. I asked her to say nothing to my father. Begged her not to,” he adds, and gives a rueful smile. “And guess what she did next.”

Imelda finds herself really thinking for the first time in years of Estéban de la Cruz and his nearly legendary bad temper, and suddenly it’s as though her blood has turned to ice in her veins.

“Oh, God,” she murmurs. Ernesto gives the emptiest, most joyless smile she has ever seen.

“Yes. It went down about as well as you can imagine.”

Imelda stares at him for a moment, then glances at Héctor. He’s been silent so far, but he returns her gaze before turning to Ernesto, as though to ask for permission. There is a nod, and he turns back to her. “He came to stay with me for a while. He, uh, came over one night and he didn’t look too good. It wasn’t long before we left, a little before Día de los Muertos…”

… Wait. Wait a minute, she remembers bruises on his face. Imelda looks straight at Ernesto, her eyes wide. “You told me - everyone - that you’d been in a brawl. Some drunk guys in San Luz.”

He gives her a forced smile. “I am a good actor. It was only half a lie. There was a brawl all right. But of two people, and not in San Luz. All thanks to my dear mamá and her stupid mouth. Bu hey, if you think I looked bad, you should have seen him. Pretty sure I broke his nose. No one noticed because he's an anti-social asshole who never leaves the house unless forced,” he adds, and laughs. For all of his acting skills, it is the fakest laugh she has ever heard.

That, Imelda thinks numbly, must have been nightmarish. As much as she occasionally butts heads with her parents, and despite knowing they would not approve of her current lifestyle if they knew the details, she knows they will have her back if needed - her brothers, too. She can trust them. Ernesto opened up once, to his mother, and was burned in the worst possible way.

“He doesn’t want me back in his household, I bet, which is just fine with me,” Ernesto is saying, and leans in to pick up another of the chihuahuas, letting her settle on his lap as well. “And what she wants doesn’t matter anymore.”

Imelda stares at him for a few moments, then nods. “I see. I’m… sorry for what I said.”

That causes Ernesto to shift, as though suddenly uncomfortable. “You didn’t know.”

“No, I did not. That’s why I had no place saying what I did.”

It is the second time she apologizes in a day, and the second time Ernesto does not take the chance to gloat. He was still too upset in the morning. Now he’s doing… better, she supposes, but there is still no gloating at all. “We can just… forget about it,” he finally says, and looks over at Héctor. “So, uh. How did it go? The ceremony.”

“Huh? Oh. It went really well. There were a lot of people,” he says, and drops a hand on Ernesto’s shoulder. “I told mamá and papá you said hi.”

“... Gracias,” Ernesto mutters. He pats his knee, causing the remaining two chihuahuas to jump on his lap. They’re tiny enough to fit comfortably, and Ernesto smiles a little. “I’d like to drop by and say hi myself. Someday. Hey, remember that time we tried to make our own smoke bomb effects in your room, and--

As they go on talking and laughing about the havok they wrecked - por Dios, she didn’t know half of it and Héctor’s parents were nothing short of saints - and eventually leave the park, none of them notices a hairless dog following them from a distance, tail wagging, occasionally falling behind to chase a butterfly or a leaf.

***

Morning finds them in a pile on the bed, and Imelda is the first one to awaken. Again.

She was sitting against the headboard when she fell asleep, or at least she’s fairly sure she was. When she opens her eyes she’s on her back with Héctor snoring away by her side, face nestled in her hair. There is a weight on her, too, and she can guess who it is before she even glances down.

Ernesto is on top of them, head resting on Héctor’s chest but arms around them both, still deep in his sleep and silent. With a sigh, Imelda reaches to rest her only free hand on his head. Her fingers tangle in Ernesto’s hair, and he shifts just slightly, leaning into the touch. His grip on her - on them both - tightens a fraction, and Héctor mumbles in his sleep, nuzzling against her hair.

She should get up, she knows. Get up, take a shower, start making some breakfast, get to work; she has orders to keep up with… but she can do that later. It can wait a few more minutes, or a hour, or two.

Ernesto is heavy, Héctor keeps snoring, but she finds she doesn’t really mind.

***

[Back to Part 9]

[On to Part 11]

#pixar coco #hector rivera #imelda rivera #ernesto de la cruz #coco #mind the gap

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readingraebow · 6 years ago

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Dark Places Section Two

Ben Day (January 2, 1985, 12:51 pm) - Ben Day (January 2, 1985, 8:38pm) (approx pages 121-245)

1. When Libby questions Krissi about Ben, what does she say happened? She says that she thinks he was supposed to have murdered her the night the rest of his family died. She says he got close to her and gained her trust and then when he did, he would take her to his janitor's closet and make her perform oral sex on him and then he would perform oral sex on her. And she says he had all of his Satanic worship things in there like an altar and animals he'd killed and things like that. Which, as we all know, is a whole pack of lies. Wow.

2. Who was the guest speaker at the meeting with Magda and the other supporters of Ben? What did she change about Runner’s alibi? Magda's special guest was Peggy Bannion, Runner's girlfriend at the time of the murders. She provided his alibi when the police showed up the morning after his family was killed. But now Peggy says that that night she made dinner for Runner and he finished up the beer so he went to buy more. It took a while so she fell asleep. When he came back it was really, really late. He didn't have a clock so she didn't know exactly what time it was but she knew it was after midnight. She said a few hours later she got up to pee and the sun was coming up so she knew he had to have come home pretty late. She said she just provided an alibi for him because she went along with his insistence that he was home early. But now she believes that he's the murderer and she's in the process of recanting his alibi even though it might mean she could be sentenced up to five years.

3. Patty says that Libby was always such a worrier and that she came out the womb worrying. Would you say that you are a worrier? Do you suffer from any anxiety? Hmm. I honestly tend to tip more toward not worrying enough? I mean, I do worry about things but I don't have anxiety and dwell on them. I usually tend to worry in small doses, if that makes sense, before pushing those thoughts away and just hoping everything will work out. It helps that I tend to do pretty well under pressure so usually when it comes down to the wire (when I probably should be really, really worrying), that's when I'm the most calm. So I do worry (doesn't everyone), just not at anxiety levels.

4. Why does Ben not want to tell Libby who Diondra is? Because he doesn't want to make her hate him again. Even though Diondra was such a huge influence in his life at that time, apparently, Ben never told anyone about her. Ben tells Libby that he did come back home that night and had another fight with their mom but he says he left again and left the radio on in his room and the light on. But I honestly think he was in there with Diondra when Libby walked by. And now that Libby is coming to see Ben again and he has this connection to home, he doesn't want to ruin it again and for Libby to go back to hating him. Which, apparently, telling her about Diondra would cause...

5. What do we find out about Diondra, and why is it going to make her father so angry? Diondra is pregnant. She says it's Ben's and is constantly making him touch her stomach and asking if he feels it kicking. And even though Diondra's parents don't seem to have any rules, they do have one. Her dad made her promise that she wouldn't have sex until she was married. He even gave her a promise ring and made her wear it. Apparently that made him feel better about leaving her alone for months at a time. So finding out that his daughter not only isn't a virgin but is pregnant will basically mean she'll be kicked out of the house.

6. What did the letter Runner sent to Libby say? He apologizes for how he treated her and how he treated his whole family. He says that he was too young when he had her and he didn't know how to be a father but he tried the best that he could. He blames Patty, though, and says that she often wouldn't let him see his kids and says that he might have been immature but Patty was worse. He says he has cancer now and he only has a few months left but he knows who the murderer is and he wants to tell someone before he dies. He says that he'd love to see Libby again if she'll give him 500 dollars. So Runner literally hasn't changed. The letter is just some long handout. And if she gives him the money, he'll disappear again only to reappear when he needs more money.

7. In what ways did Libby understand Krissi when she was explaining why she lied? How does what Krissi came to tell Libby change what Libby thought happened the night of the murders? Krissi says that the lie just got out of hand and she wanted to tell her parents the truth but then the school sent this therapist and Krissi had planned to tell him the truth and have him tell her parents. But he wouldn't let her say that nothing happened. When she would say that nothing happened, he would act like she was lying because she was scared and so she just went with the lie. And Libby understands that because the same thing happened with her therapist. He coached her to say that she saw Ben kill her family and would reward her when she did. It's like the therapists were trying to create a "safe space" so they could talk about what had happened but they were really only fostering lies. And Libby believes that Lou Cates isn't the killer since, by the time of the murders, he knew that Krissi had lied and wouldn't have been out looking for Ben anyway. But because of her own memories about therapy, Libby doesn't really believe that Ben did it either.

Section Two Reading Journal

So. I honestly don’t really have a lot to say about this section. I’m pretty sure I know who the killer is and a couple of the people they investigated in this section just felt a little pointless because we all know they’re dead ends? For example, Lyle says he thinks Lou Cates is the killer but when they go to visit Krissi, he pretty much attacks her because he knew she was lying about Ben molesting her? So honestly, checking up on Krissi at all felt pretty pointless to me? It was honestly pretty obvious that Krissi was just an entitled child and her parents wanted money from the settlement. (All of which you could *especially* tell when Patty visited the Cates in the flashback. Wow.)

So, I don’t know, this section just felt like it was trying to bury the lead under a pile of crap. Yes, I am still enjoying this book but at this point it feels like it could be shorter. I spent most of this section just wanting to hurry it up through chapters because they felt like they served no real purpose to the actual story except trying to distract us from figuring out who the murderer is. So, at this point I just feel like it’s a pacing problem? Because most of this section didn’t really need to be in the book.

But, anyway, I’m excited to read the last section and I can’t wait to see how this all turns out!

#trcbooks #2015: dark places #2015 reading challenge

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xx-thedarklord-xx · 7 years ago

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In My Defense

Hello! I am so happy you wanted more of this! You do not have to read the first part, this can be read as a standalone. But if you would like, here is the first one. Thank you @llap115 for being my beta and helping me with the title! <3333

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Draco checked the time before wincing a little. Minerva had sent a patronus asking him to come to her office. He had wracked his brain, trying to remember if they had a meeting set up, but they had one just last week. Perhaps it was about a student?

He was running a tad late. Not that it was entirely his fault. There had been a breakthrough on his experimental potion. Just a little more time and he would have been able to really get into it.

It wasn’t until he reached the corridor that he recognized a familiar mop of black hair.

“Potter! Fancy seeing you here. I could have sworn your horrendous abilities to function would have gotten you kicked out by now.”

“Oh please.” Harry countered. “You would cease to function if I wasn’t around to bother you.” He grinned widely, shaking his head as he paused to wait for Draco to catch up.

“Shh.” Draco teased, running his fingers through Harry’s hair when he noticed odd bits of glitter in it. “Don’t give away my secrets.” He paused to make sure all offending bits were disposed of. “What’s with the glitter?”

“Sean Finnigan-Thomas.” Harry explained shaking his head. “It would seem that he has picked up his father’s ability to blow things up. I can’t honestly tell where the glitter comes from. He was supposed to be doing a simple blocking spell.”

“You’d think that Dean’s genes would have mellowed the poor kid out.” Draco murmured, recalling the way Sean had caused his hiccupping solution last month to also blow up.

“Apparently not.” Harry shrugged once before he realized that Draco should still be working on his potion. “What are you doing out here?”

“Minerva asked to see me. Which I am running late for.” The last bit was whispered slowly. It wasn’t as if hurrying now would make him any less late. Might as well take his time.

That had Harry pausing. “She asked to see me too.”

They both shared a knowing look before groaning. “I’m going back to my lab.” Draco called out, only making it a few steps before strong arms wrapped around his stomach.

“I don’t think so.” Harry reprimanded firmly. “They are your sons too.”

Draco sagged into the embrace of his husband. “I don’t even want to know what they did. I just hope property damage wasn’t done this time.”

“They haven’t done anything awful in at least two months.” Harry wished that sounded better than it actually was. Their sons were a handful.

“Last week I caught Scorpius being suspicious. He was hiding in a bush near the black lake.” Draco pointed out, hoping to distract Harry enough that he could slip out of the hold.

Harry tightened his hold and smiled into Draco’s neck when he heard a disappointed sigh. “If that is the only suspicious thing we have to hold over him, then our children are saints.”

Draco snorted derisively. Teddy? Absolutely. Their eldest was definitely leading the chart on who would be getting better Christmas gifts. Albus and Scorpius? Hell no. Their twins were the furthest from saints. Sometimes he wondered if it was possible that his children were reincarnations of Fred and George. Can reincarnations exist with the original still in place?

When Harry straightened up, Draco reluctantly followed the man towards the Headmistress’ office. Unfortunately, he could trek the path blindfolded.

“How did your potion go? Any luck?” Asked Harry, hoping it would pull his lover into a long-winded discussion. He wanted zero room for the man to try and weasel out of going to the impromptu meeting.

“Oh!” Draco snapped his head towards Harry, eyes sparkling. “Yes. I was correcting my third years’ essays on why Powdered Root of Asphodel is the main ingredient in both the Draught of Living Death and Wiggenweld Potion. Especially considering how the potions contradict each other. It wasn’t until I noticed a mistake one of the students cited to a correlation to the Salamander blood, that I realized…”

—————————————————————————–

“Don’t say a word.” Albus whispered, using a fake yawn as a means to communicate to his brother. “She can’t prove our reasons behind it.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes. Honestly, his twin never knew when to call it quits. “There were witnesses.” He hissed when McGonagall began leafing through mail that had just been delivered by a Ministry owl.

“Our word against theirs.” Countered Albus, wishing his brother held more fighting spirit. The enemy couldn’t break them if they never gave up!

“You two are fucking idiots.” Teddy hissed, towering over them. “You are lucky I was patrolling and not Simmons. Do you know what she would have done if she had caught you?” He shot a look towards the Headmistress, glad that she was still distracted.

Albus and Scorpius rolled their eyes at their brother’s anger. Teddy being Head Boy was the only thing that truly saved them. They both knew it. But admitting it was another thing entirely.

“It’s not my fault Simmons has a bloody broom up her arse.” Albus dodged the smack Teddy aimed at his head.

“Aren’t you going to stop them?” A shrill voice had everyone in the room wincing. “They are no doubt conspiring together to come up with lies!”

Minerva sighed internally before glancing towards the substitute teacher for the month. “I am aware that they are conversing.” Her tone was bored, but her eyes were annoyed. “It is a lengthy wait for their parents. Should I condemn them to sit in silence?”

The way the woman nodded vehemently had Minerva wishing - not for the first time - that Neville had chosen someone else to be his replacement while he recovered from a bout of illness.

A chime had everyone but Minerva looking around expectantly, as if they thought something would happen.

“As it so happens, their parents have arrived.” She waved her wand, causing the door to open slowly.

Teddy was the first to spot his parents. He sighed somewhat ruefully while his brothers groaned loudly.

——————————————————————–

Harry couldn’t help it. By the time they reached the closed door, Draco’s hands were rapidly moving while his mouth was recanting a very in-depth account of things that Harry wouldn’t remember tomorrow. Every time his husband got passionate about his work, the blonde lit up in every way possible. It always had Harry falling just a little bit more in love with the man- which he thought would be impossible after so long.

When Draco took a deep breath, no doubt about to tell Harry about some obscure thought that his brilliant mind came up with, Harry leaned forward and captured the man’s lips.

Draco made a noise of surprise before he wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and enthusiastically kissed back. He wasn’t entirely sure his lover had been paying attention to him anyways.

The sound of someone groaning had them pulling apart. At some point, the door had opened. Well, it wasn’t the worst position they could have been caught in. Not like the scandalous article the Daily Prophet printed about them in their youth. Draco still had The boy-who-fucked framed on the wall of their bedroom.

“I apologize for being late.” Draco began, tone nice in a way that didn’t fit him. “Got caught up.” He could see Teddy cover his mouth in an attempt to hide a snicker.

“I’m sure it was important.” Minerva responded dryly, offering them chairs.

Harry shook his head, preferring to stand. It was better to tower over his children, intimidation at its finest.

Small talk was never Draco’s forte. Nor was he going to explain his tardiness. “Was there a death? Explosion? Property damage? Anyone hurt?”

Teddy looked to the ceiling, not completely believing that this was his life. It was sad that his dad’s questions weren’t in jest either. Despite this, he couldn’t help but be amused.

“In my defense—” Albus was cut off by Scorpius placing a hand over his brother’s mouth. For all the scolding Albus had done earlier, he was going to give them away!

Draco narrowed his eyes, looking between his youngest in suspicion. Usually, the two of them would own up to their wrongdoings. They had a family rule. Lying was prohibited, at least to those in the family. As a parent, he could care less what the little buggers did that was wrong, just as long as they told him about it. He couldn’t form alibis for them without knowing details.

“Can you tell us what they are suspected of?” came Harry’s question as he shared a look with Draco. There was more at work here and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Suspected of?” The loud screech had Draco’s lip curling in disgust.

“Oh, Prudence. I didn’t see you there.” The polite tilt of Draco’s head might fool some, but Harry could see the annoyed tension in his husband. He entwined their fingers, not missing the way Miss Thatcher’s eyes narrowed. The old woman was a pain in his arse. He couldn’t wait for Neville to return.

“Mister Malfoy.” The woman’s tone wasn’t in the least bit polite, but Draco could care less. Part of him was hoping his children had messed with her, but the part that was horribly corrupted by Harry was steadily wishing the opposite. Damn his husband’s Gryffindor sensibilities.

“Malfoy-Potter but whatever.” Draco dismissed her with a wave of his hand, turning back to Minerva expectantly.

“Albus and Scorpius seemed to have caused an explosion in Greenhouse three. The left side of the building is decimated. None of the plants were harmed, but several of them have been moved to guarantee their survival.”

Draco had to hold in the urge to let out a low whistle. “Now, when you say decimated?” He trailed off suggestively.

“The building is completely unusable, and classes have been transferred to the library until Neville returns.”

The statement had Harry wanting to cover his face with his hands. For the life of him, he couldn’t come up with any explanation as to why his children would do something like this. Normally their stunts and horrible ideas weren’t as destructive.

“What caused the explosion?” asked Draco, trying to rationalize it all.

Minerva looked to the boys, gesturing for them to respond. She had not been informed of the cause. They only had the aftermath to observe.

“We had just come from potions.” Albus looked at McGonagall’s desk, knowing that he couldn’t look at his parents during this. Especially his dad. “And I guess we still had a little Armadillo Bile on our hands from making the Wit Sharpening potion.”

Draco’s brows rose in disbelief. Armadillo Bile was something that should never make skin contact. It was volatile if handled wrong.

“Today we were working near the Alihotsy.” Scorpius added in explanation. “We didn’t know what would happen if we touched it.”

That had Draco really letting out a low whistle this time. The Alihotsy is a plant with leaves that can induce mass hysteria and uncontrollable laughter. When combined with something as volatile as Armadillo Bile, the fumes released by the leaves would have been corrupted. An explosion was not out of the realm of possibilities.

Thatcher scoffed harshly, clearly not buying their explanation.

“Excuse us for a moment.” Harry told her kindly, gesturing for his kids to come with him to a corner of the office.

Draco created a silencing charm around them, one that he knew wouldn’t be broken quickly.

Scorpius shared a look with Albus, trying to silently ask for help.

“In my defense.” Albus raised a finger but paused when no one interrupted him. This was unusual. Typically, his family never let him use an excuse.

“Go on.” Draco drawled, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t have all day.”

On his dad’s annoyance scale, Albus figured that he was safe for the moment. “In my defense, it was all Scorpius’ fault.”

Scorpius dropped his mouth open, turning to his brother quickly and smacking him on the arm. “What the hell?” This was not a part of the twin code. One does not just simply throw their sibling under!

Teddy, Harry and Draco shared a look. Out of the twins, it was nearly always Albus that was the ring leader. Scorpius just went along with the horrible ideas. It was strange for Scorpius to have been the one responsible.

“I’m suspicious.” muttered Teddy, eyes narrowing. Something else was going on here.

“So am I.” Harry agreed looking at Scorpius curiously.

“I want to know why you lied.” Draco demanded, looking at the both of them. “I remember your Wit Sharpening potion to come out flawlessly. Nor was there any Armadillo Bile on your person. Especially considering the medical liability of such an ingredient touching human flesh.”

Teddy leaned forward, hoping to see either of them flustered. This was turning out to be an interesting turn of events. Sure, his brothers got in trouble a lot, but it was never something of this magnitude. He was curious as to where this would go.

His dad’s statement had Scorpius wincing slightly, turning his eyes towards his brother.

“We may have thrown a vial of Armadillo Bile at the plant.” Albus admitted reluctantly when his father turned narrowed green eyes on him. Out of his parents, one would think that his dad would be scarier when upset but just a simple look from his father was enough to make his spine straighten.

“And why would you do that?” demanded Harry, not liking where this was going. “You both knew exactly what would happen and yet, you did it anyways.”

Albus pointedly looked at Scorpius, showing silently that he blamed his brother for this one.

The movement had Scorpius mentally setting a reminder to make his brother pay for such a traitorous action.

“Because Jameson was making fun of Smith for having two fathers! He’s a muggleborn and doesn’t quite understand that some muggle prejudice has no standing in the wizarding world.”

Draco froze before looking to his husband. It was obvious that Scorpius was upset. “Why didn’t Jameson make fun of you?” Not that he wanted that to happen. He just thought it was strange that the boy would only make fun of one student.

Albus snorted loudly. “No one messes with the children of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.”

A noise of affirmation caused Harry and Draco to turn to Teddy who smiled sheepishly. “It’s true. No one messes with us for fear of you two.” At first, Teddy used to be upset. Because it affected friendships too, but it was nice in the end. It was a secondhand power and that worked out nicely on those he didn’t care for.

“What does Smith being bullied have to do with ruining an entire greenhouse?” Harry wasn’t sure what to think. He knew firsthand from his uncle that misconceptions can happen in the muggle world. Jameson might not be tolerant of others, but he certainly didn’t deserve an explosion in retaliation.

“Thatcher wasn’t doing anything about it!” Scorpius explained, brows pinching and a frown forming. “She made snide comments about it, as if rewarding Jameson’s belief. You should have seen Charlotte’s face! It’s not okay for a teacher to do that!”

Teddy bit his lip to stop from smiling. “So you destroyed a building, caused an explosion and nearly caused bodily harm to others in your anger.”

Scorpius looked to the ground. “In hindsight, it might have been a bad idea.”

That had Harry rolling his eyes. “You can’t just explode things when someone else upsets you. I understand that you were angry on behalf of Charlotte, but next time, speak to us. Or go to Minerva.”

When their son nodded his head sadly, Draco looked to Albus. “And you, don’t just follow your brother. Have an original thought of your own for once. Also, don’t come to me when he retaliates for turning him in.”

Scorpius smirked widely, loving the way Albus’ eyes widened.

“But father.” Albus turned to Harry, eyes begging. “You’ll care, won’t you?”

Teddy had to cover his mouth to stop from laughing out loud.

It was hard to ignore grey eyes that were pleading with him, but Harry knew that Draco wasn’t going to punish anything Scorpius did in retaliation. “I can’t control Draco anymore than I can control you.”

Draco leaned over to kiss Harry on the cheek, wrapping his arms around his husband. He ignored the renewed groans at their public displays of affection.

“Oh Salazar.” Albus moaned pitifully. “No one loves me in this family.” He wanted to pout when they all laughed in delight, but that was beneath him. Malfoy-Potters don’t pout.

“I want to know how long you have been on a first name basis with Smith.” Teddy spoke up, smirking at the way Scorpius’ flushed brightly. Now he was getting somewhere.

“I’m not—It’s just—” Scorpius twisted his fingers into his robes nervously. “She’s really nice.”

“Smith?” Draco asked, nose crinkling at the remembrance of Zacharias Smith. “Merlin, I haven’t thought of her father in ages. He was a real prick.”

“Charlotte isn’t her father.”

The firm tone of their son had Harry’s mouth twitching. “Where have I heard that before?” He teased, watching Draco eye him softly.

“Alright.” Draco conceded, eyes still on his lover. “I will keep an open mind.” He snapped his gaze to his son in time to see Scorpius smiling happily. “It will probably be needed for when you get married.”

Albus barked out a laugh at the way his brother froze in embarrassment.

“Is this why you were in the bushes?” Harry asked recalling what Draco told him earlier. “Because I hope you are aware that stalking is punishable by the Wizengamot.”

Teddy leaned into his dad for support and laughed into his shoulder. Merlin, he loved his family.

A slight foot stomping was the only thing Scorpius was able to produce as his family laughed openly at his embarrassment. Albus was right. Where is the love?

“Can we get on with the punishment now?” Scorpius begged, hoping to distract them.

“Don’t think we won’t tease you later.” Draco warned before standing up straighter and dropping the charm.

Minerva eyed them in amusement. It shouldn’t surprise her after so many years of seeing their family, but every time she witnessed them together, she couldn’t help but smile internally. A lot of people had reservations about Harry and Draco getting together many moons ago, but it was all hogwash. One look at the happy family and it was clear that they were meant to be together.

“After going over the implications of the potion and the Armadillo Bile residue, I do believe it was an accident.” Draco began, shooting a look at his children. If they acted surprised, it would give it all away.

Harry didn’t bother to hide his smile. It was just like Draco to be a big sap underneath it all. Which would mean that he would, once again, be the only one punishing them.

Draco held up a hand when it looked like Thatcher was going to explode in outrage. “There was more than just what was mentioned that led to the accident.”

When Thatcher shifted her eyes away briefly, he knew that she understood the implication.

“If we could discuss those privately at another time.” Draco nodded his head towards his children and then towards Thatcher. “This should be handled internally.”

Minerva narrowed her eyes, disliking the lack of explanations being given. “Alright. I will call the three of you tomorrow afternoon for another meeting.”

A raised hand signaled their dismissal. Before anyone could utter a goodbye, Thatcher stormed out of the room, not even bothering to shut the door.

“What a lovely person.” Draco grumbled under his breath, holding on to Harry’s hand as they exited the office.

When Scorpius opened his mouth, Harry held up a hand.

“Oh, don’t even.” He warned. “Her bad behavior does not excuse yours.” Harry nodded his head in agreement when his son’s shoulders drooped. “The two of you will be helping in the rebuild of the Greenhouse.” He paused a little dramatically. “Without magic.”

“What?!” Albus and Scorpius yelled in unison, not caring that they were making a scene.

Teddy inched away from his family to allow the crowd of people to take him away. This was not going to turn into his younger brothers asking for help. No way. He may be the oldest, but that did not mean he had to be there to clean up their messes.

Draco narrowed his eyes, disliking the lack of decorum. He would never understand why his children liked to be the talk of the school. Episodes like this would travel. He took a step forward, lowering his voice.

“Just because you didn’t get punished by Minerva, does not mean that you are walking out of here free men.”

“How are we supposed to rebuild anything without magic?” Albus retorted, shaking his head angrily. They wouldn’t be in this mess if Scorpius wasn’t such a kind soul. It was despicable, really.

“We aren’t muggle builders.” The unnecessary reminder had Harry snorting internally. Sometimes, it was hard punishing them when all he wanted to do was laugh.

“Figure it out.”

When it looked like Albus was going to argue, Scorpius stepped on his foot discreetly. “Alright. We get it.” He ignored the outraged look on his brother’s face. Arguing would get them nowhere. He pulled on his brother’s hand and started a walk of shame towards the Great Hall, ignoring the gossiping students.

“Scorp, we know nothing about this. The greenhouse is going to look like a bloody wreck!” Their voices carried backwards and it improved Draco’s mood. He would love to see how they accomplish this.

“Probably.” Scorpius conceded. “But if we try hard, I just know father will cave and let us use magic.”

Draco smirked widely, leaning on Harry. “Hear that? You apparently have a weak spot.”

The teasing didn’t get to Harry, he rolled his eyes somewhat fondly. He knew that Scorpius was right, in the end, he probably would cave.

“Are you suddenly not fond of my weak spots?” Harry arched his brow, wrapping his arm around his husband. “Because I don’t remember any complaints when you became my weakness.”

“You should never admit to what can be used against you.” Draco chided, smiling softly.

“Oh Merlin.” Albus’ complaint reaching their ears. “Will they ever stop flirting? It’s downright embarrassing.”

Teddy nudged his brother’s shoulder, walking in step but pausing to look back at his parents. “I think it’s cute.”

Scorpius shook his head when Albus began a long-winded debate refuting Teddy’s statement. He himself, personally agreed with Teddy. He rather liked to find his parents’ love encouraging. It showed that two people, no matter how different they may be, can really be together.

“You know what is cute?” Albus asked, shaking his head. “That they think we will be what the school is gossiping about.” He gestured with his hands to where a group of second years were gossiping together.

“Oh, they are so cute together!”

“Did you see Professor Potter? He’s so handsome. Professor Malfoy is so lucky!”

“Really? I think it’s the other way around!”

“Ugh, they are both lucky!”

Teddy shook his head ruefully, not understanding the interest of people outside of the family. To him, they were just his parents. “I am more interested in this crush you have on Smith.”

The flush to Scorpius’ face had Teddy and Albus sharing a wicked grin.

“I have decided that I am an only sibling and I have no idea who you two strangers are.” Scorpius mumbled before sprinting forward, placing a wide berth between them.

“Don’t say that!” Teddy called out firmly. “How will we be invited to the wedding if we are strangers?” He bit his lip when Albus cackled loudly.

“You won’t.” There was a pause as Scorpius turned to smirk at them. “We will elope.” He didn’t feel like mentioning that Smith didn’t even know he existed. But that was just a mishap for now. A calculated mishap.

The look of absolute surprise on their faces was worth everything. Even the punishment.

#Drarry #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Husbands #established relationship #Married with Kids #Scorpius Potter-Malfoy #Albus Potter-Malfoy #Teddy Lupin #Domestic fluff #FLUFF #Sort of sequel #I don't know #Prompt #Ask me

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dudence-blog · 7 years ago

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Dear Dudence for 13 February 2018

Wow, it’s been like a month. I’d apologize but, honestly, I do think for fun and the time I spend reading, thinking, and writing had to come out of time spent with family, work, or school. Also, I realized I needed there to be something in the NuPru source which made me go “ugh, that is just wrong.” Maybe some Stockholm Syndrome has kicked in and I see her point of view on things I used to disagree with, and life is too short for me to get too wrapped around the axle about something written by a lesser advice columnist. So, with the non-apologetic apology it’s off to the letters.

I live in a condo that has a gym, which I frequent. Unfortunately, another gym rat in the building smells very bad. She might not care, or she might not even notice; I’m not sure. But the gym is small, and the stench is so unpleasant that it makes me cut my workout short. (We’re usually the only two there at the same time.) What’s the appropriate way to say something? Or should I just avoid confrontation and file a gentle complaint with the property manager?

Dear How do I Tell? Do you want a condo war? Because this is how you get a condo war. The gym is one of the few parts of modern American life where the natural human funk can be reasonably expected to be tolerated. I’m also impressed because you’ve managed to make something I thought was pretty sad: religiously working out at the apartment “gym” and make it even sadder. Religiously working out at the apartment gym, and sharing it with someone who now really resents you. I get it, some people can really get a good stink going on, or they might wear those fancy moisture-wicking fabrics which need a bit of extra cleaning to get the odor-causing bacteria out, or there might be some cultural differences in personal hygiene, or you could be frequenting the gym to spend 15 minutes on the ellipitcal’s lowest setting while she’s in there for an hour trying to find extra weight to put on the machines because they’re just not enough. This is a conversation which has a 45-45 shot of either her being shamed into doing something to make her merely-normalish-stink or she goes to the mattresses on you. The remaining 10% is that she either has a medical issue and she knows she stinks like that, which is why she uses the private gym where she lives and not a real gym, or she’s from France and you’re a racist for suggesting she stinks.

Well, the hard part is over. My boyfriend of two years and I are breaking up. It’s excruciating, because I love living with him. He is clean, polite, funny, a kick-ass cook, and handles conflict well. But that just makes it harder that he’s not very affectionate. He doesn’t share much of himself emotionally, or put his arm around me anymore, or initiate sex. I could almost have dealt with it, but when I told him I needed him to take sex more seriously or it would end the relationship, he didn’t make any changes.

Dear Breakup Lite, I’m really glad that you and your soon-to-be-ex have had such a mature break-up. I know they’re hard, especially when they’re someone you care about, but when you’re incompatible on something as fundamental as… wait… I’m still reading your letter… wait… what… oh… oh no…. oh nonononononono honey… don’t tell me you… ohhhhhhhhhh. Sweetie… listen… I really hate to be the one to break this to you, but your ex-boyfriend is going to make some other woman (or man, it’s 2018 afterall) very happy. But your idea of “I’m going to let him go free to bang other people so he learns how to bang me better” is going to blow up in your face.

I am a white woman married to a black man. We live in a mainly white town, and I grew up knowing racism was alive and well in our town. I have a few friends left from high school but have abandoned many due to their racist views. One of my friends, “Melissa,” has never said anything overtly racist in my presence, but every single man she has ever dated has been a racist who proudly shared his views on social media. She is now pregnant and is trying to reach out for support, as she is not with the father and doesn’t have many close friends or family. Meanwhile, she recently started dating another guy who posted racist comments on social media last week.

Dear Covert Racism, how hard-up for friends are you that you’ve remained friends with someone you think, covertly, is biased against your husband because of his race and are now trying to figure out how to exploit her desperation for support during a pregnancy where the father of the child has abandoned her to confront her about your your beliefs? I mean, of all the ways “my racist friend dates racist men and she’s asking me for help,” could go I think I’m most surprised by “how do I explain to her that I think she’s racist?” Are you going to blow off her request for support unless she recants? Are you going to support her through her pregnancy regardless of her dating choices? What sort of saint, or demon, decides “This chick is pregnant with another man’s baby, I’m going to date her,”? But, you know what, one of my guiding principles as Dudence is that I answer the question asked. And, to that end, you stop talking to Melissa about the racism of her boyfriends, but about how that makes her look to you. You talk about how you condemn her boyfriends as racist, but you don’t talk about how you’ve told her that makes it look like she is one too by letting it slide. Or, in her case, letting is slide in and out and in and out (OH!). I’m sure the isolated pregnant lady will take your criticism to heart and will handle it with grace, aplomb, and will be thankful for your help.

I was a professional dancer for about six years before I was in a car wreck that ended my career. Since then I have married and now work at a nonprofit. I was contacted by a friend who introduced me to several gifted but underprivileged dance students. I saw myself in their talent and struggles. I have taken a few on as a personal instructor and coach. I do this on my own time and pay for it from my own pocket. When my sister-in-law heard I was teaching, she got it into her head that I should include her 7- and 8-year-old daughters for free because I am family. I told her no over the phone, and then she drove over with the girls in dance gear. I told her no again and refused to let her in the door. She threw a fit and since then has been blasting me over all social media and got the rest of my in-laws on her side.

Dear Private Lessons, your problem is ceding the narrative your sister-in-law. Well, the root problem is your sister-in-law has an outrageous sense of entitlement, but let’s deal in tactics because it’s easier. So now you are the selfish monster who isn’t willing to help your own kin while giving yourself freely to strangers. You have two allies in this fight and it is time you called in whatever favor you have with them. First, you say you’re close to your mother-in-law, and even if her discussion with you was supporting her daughter, it is a reasonable tone and there is room for discussion with her on it. Explain to your mother-in-law your reasons for who and why you’re teaching. If you need to embellish it a bit by over-stating the time commitment you’re making then do so. Or, and I like this option, figure out how much you’d charge for the lessons you’re providing, increase it by 50% because that is the premium you charge to mix business and family, and then double that because your sister-in-law is a bitch and that’s your “bitch” surcharge, and inform her you’ll happily give your nieces lessons. Do like Neil Gaiman and charge enough to make it worth your while. Sorry, I got off on a tangent here. So, back to your mother-in-law. What you want to do is at least get her to see reason, understand your position, agree it’s a reasonable stance and that she’ll at least get the rest of the family to back off. And if she doesn’t come around to your point of view you’re no worse off. Your other ally, and the one you need to be willing to go nuclear, is your husband. Is he so far off the grid he’s unable to get internet at all? Because if he’s not you need to get him into whatever Facebook group your in-laws are using and tell them to shut the fuck up because this situation is not your fault; he supports you completely, and his sister is off the fucking path causing this drama.

I have been involved with a man for almost a decade. He is wonderful to me, extremely loving and attentive, and even helps me with projects around the house. We see each other several times a week, vacation together twice a year, and have a great time when we are together. We plan a future together. The problem? He is married. His wife left him for another man, which is when we got involved. She came back after she was dumped by that guy and begged to be taken back. She promised she would be kinder to him and even get a job to help out around the house, but she didn’t. She mainly sits around the house and watches TV. My guy doesn’t kick her out because he has a heart of gold and she literally has no friends and nowhere else to go, and if they divorced she would get half of his net worth. Plus, he obviously has a lot of freedom.

Dear I Should Feel Bad, I don’t think you should feel bad about what you’re doing. You’re not the one violating wedding vows after all. I think you should feel a bit bad that you’re getting played like a fiddle. You want to bang some married dude, you go on with your bad self. You want to be some guy’s Nobody, you do you. You want to be Linda Davis to Reba McEntire, it’s a free country. But you need to do it aware of what you are, and I don’t think you are. Being independent and self-sufficient doesn’t make you immune to played. He has not spent 10 years married to this pathetic, friendless, helpless woman out of the kindness of his heart, nor out of fear of losing half his wealth. Don’t feel bad that you’re someone’s mistress; it’s a position (snicker) with a glorious history. Feel bad that you don’t recognize that you’re a side piece.

My sister-in-law cannot control her daughter “Ally.” Her father died a few years ago, and since then Ally has made it her mission to make everyone around her as miserable as possible. She started sleeping around at 13, had an abortion at 14, and got pregnant again at 15. She has no clue who the father is. She had the baby, only to abandon him and run away for a month. She has been suspended and failed so many classes that her education level is of a seventh-grader at 16.

Dear Niece my heart breaks at this story. That there is the teasing possibility of a happy ending, but the knowledge that there are so very, very many ways it can go completely sideways, and it being a story with no villains. So, let’s go ahead and get to answering your question. First, you have to accept this might be a situation where you can’t get it through to your husband. It’s his sister’s daughter; his own blood. He could very well believe that he can be a moderating influence in Ally’s life, or, at the very least, alleviate some of the burden on his sister by taking some of the stresses she’s feeling off her plate. So, after you’ve established for yourself whatever boundaries you need, and the consequences for violating them, I really think you only have one course of action. You need to pull your spousal privilege card and say “no.” You can make a rational appeal to your husband; Ally is just going to be able to get into different kinds of trouble, you’re not able to give her the support she needs, etc etc, but it’s running into a buzzsaw of a brother wanting to help his sister. I don’t like that course of action because it’s got a high risk of, undeservedly, making you the bad guy. But if your husband is otherwise set to do this then I don’t see any other option. Now, if you’re open to being persuaded that Ally isn’t beyond help then may I suggest your husband goes to his sister and Ally for a bit and see what is going to be involved in taking her in, but in her own environment. If your husband’s influence is going to be a positive in her life, it will be so whether she’s in her mother’s home or yours. And, maybe, your husband getting some first-hand experience dealing with her in a guardian way will disabuse him of what he’s capable of offering, or will assuage you that it is a course of action which can work. Regardless though I think it would be good for all parties involved for you to not write off a grieving child as hopelessly broken at 16.

I got pregnant as a teenager and gave the child up. The child is now grown and knows who I am. We don’t have much of a relationship; his family is his family. But that’s not exactly my problem. When the situation was fresh, I was quite open about it. However, as time has passed, and I’ve moved away from the friends that were close to me when the trauma was occurring, I have less desire to talk about my teen pregnancy and subsequent failure at parenting. As I’ve grown into myself, I’ve decided against starting a family. I haven’t told anyone about the child (now an adult) in almost a decade. I’m in my late 30s now and am trying to date after taking many years to focus on myself. I’ve moved far away from “home,” started a new career, and am getting to a decent place. The problem is my naked body.

Dear Childless with Stretch Marks, have you tried banging doggy style? Sorry, that was trite but it really was the first thing that came to mind when you said you don’t like exposing your abdomen during sex. I’m really shocked that BadPru got through two paragraphs of response to you without once suggesting you see a therapist. Because, honestly, it sounds like your situation is one where the services of such a professional would be valuable. A very important part of a generally healthy life is being cut-off to you because of how you feel about something which transpired two decades ago. This is an issue which calls for the help of someone with skills beyond “Failed Humor Website Founder” or “Dude Whose Muse is Hate-reading a Failed Humor Website Founder”. You might might find that spending some of your cosmetic surgery money on someone who can help you deal with the emotional issues surrounding your feelings about yourself will go a long way to help you deal with the cosmetic issue the surgery was to address.

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reviewsbyracine · 5 years ago

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I READ A BOOK: “A False Report” by T. Christian Miller & Ken Armstrong

A short while ago, I watched the excellent and unsettling Netflix miniseries Unbelievable. The series followed two storylines. In the first, Toni Collette and Merritt Weaver played two detectives hunting down a serial rapist. In the second, Kaitlyn Dever plays Marie, a young woman who is raped but is quickly pressured by the police, who believe she is lying, into recanting her accusation. The miniseries was based on the Pulitzer-winning article “An Unbelievable Story of Rape,” written by T. Christian Miller and Ken Armstrong and later expanded into the nonfiction book A False Report: A True Story of Rape in America.

A False Report is, at times, difficult to believe actually happened. In 2008, “Marie,” a young woman in Lynnwood, Washington, was raped in the early morning hours in her apartment. She was forced to repeat her account multiple times in the hours following the crime, and minor discrepancies were latched onto by the detectives as proof of her deceit. Pressured by the detectives, Marie signed a report stating she had lied to the police; they then pressed charges for her false report and took her to court. She lost her job, her housing, and many friendships as a result. It was only years later, in 2011, when detectives in Colorado arrested a serial rapist they had been chasing for years - and found disturbing photos of Marie during her rape - that charges were dropped. It took even longer for the police to offer any apology for everything they put her through.

Miller and Armstrong’s reporting is thorough. They not only interview Marie and the detectives chasing her rapist, but they also sat down and spoke with the rapist in question to try and figure out what leads an individual to rape. The chapters from the rapist’s perspective are especially haunting. A False Report is a timely book, one that sheds light on the unfairness many rape victims have to face (as mentioned in the series, no one ever accuses a carjacking victim of making a false report, yet rape victims deal with it all the time). Interesting and important, A False Report is a unique and ultimately upsetting look into the damage a single rape can cause.

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littlemisslumu · 6 years ago

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“Alternative Math”

Despite being often dismissed as less interesting than feature-length films, short films carry with them a lot of power and a lot of meaning, even when they are silly comedies. This is primarily due to their shortened length, filmmakers have a limited amount of time to tell a compelling story with a beginning, a middle and an end, thus forcing them to get creative with their time. Alternative Math (2017) is no exception to this rule. A comedy short film about a math teacher who receives backlash from the media and her community for correcting one of her third-grade students, Alternative Math is a play on the “Alternative Facts” rhetoric that started when Donald Trump was elected president. The term was coined by Kellyanne Conway, Trump’s Counselor, in an attempt to derail any debate or discussion about the Trump administration and its blatant disconnect from reality. In the short film, an elderly teacher attempts to correct one of her students when he gives an incorrect answer to the question “2+2=?” on his test, convinced that the answer is twenty-two rather than four. The teacher begins to receive backlash from the child’s parents, the school principal and the community, with people forming protests outside of the school. When the parents of the student sue the school for “emotional distress to a minor” the school board decides to suspend the teacher, since she refuses to apologize to the parents or recant her assertion that math is fact no matter what anyone says or how anyone feels about it. The media then catches wind of the story and the witch-hunt gathers speed, with “experts” on “both sides of the debate” droning on and on, clearly unaware that they have no clue what they are talking about. Due to the media coverage the teacher is fired and made to appear at the school to receive her severance. She arrives only to be ambushed by news reporters, called there by the principal to bear witness to her termination. When the principal attempts to write her a check for $4,000 dollars, the equivalent of $2,000 times two, she “corrects” him stating that the actual amount is $22,000, effectively forcing the principal to choose between admitting he was wrong in front of those reporters or allow her to have the last laugh. Either way, she wins. This short film is a delight to watch, especially for anyone who is very familiar with the “Alternative Facts” rhetoric that inspired it. The idiocy behind such an argument is what lends the short film its comedic factor, while also causing small bouts of heart attack inducing frustration to anyone who actually uses their brain on a regular basis. The school setting, as well as the utilization of math as an analogy, were both ingenious choices made by the filmmakers, to drive home the point of ignorance on the part of people who perpetrate such backward logic. The bright lighting and vibrant colors were also crucial in setting the light-hearted/comedic tone of the film, although even without such lighting, as in the scene in which the teacher gets suspended and the scene in the teacher’s house when she is watching the entire situation spiral out of control on the news, the ridiculousness of the situation alone was enough to keep with the overall tone of the film. The choice of implementing the Rule of Thirds as well as maintaining symmetry within every frame and every shot, aided in retaining the audiences focus on the story by restraining the image thus keeping it from becoming too distracting. Taking this short into consideration, it would be safe to say that there is merit in maintaining a level of simplicity in one’s approach, so long as those simple choices do not take away from the story. If the story would benefit from a more creative approach in terms of production, camera movements, camera angles, shot compositions, then the creative team would be well advised to be as ambitious as possible, provided they have the skills to be so ambitious in the first place. As far as our project, Aphonic, is concerned we would do well to keep true to the Rule of Thirds, center the action and keep things symmetrical but we must also have the flexibility to move in other creative directions in order to face whatever challenges may emerge and in order to meet those challenges head-on. In order to do this, we must, of course think outside of the box and not be too quick in dismissing any ideas for their seemingly logistical impossibilities. We can achieve all of this and more by banding together as a team and facing any and all challenges while standing side by side.

Reference

Maddox, D. (Director), Maddox, D., & Morrison, M. (Writers), & Franke, L. C., & Maddox, D. (Producers). (2017, September 19). Alternative Math|Short Film [Video file]. Retrieved July 15, 2018, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zh3Yz3PiXZw

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queenandexile · 8 years ago

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As far as she was concerned, the monk was a godsend and harpoons were to be banned. Everywhere. Unconditionally.

(FIC BELOW CUT)

With equal parts irritation and disbelief, she felt the sliced edges of the hole left in her winter coat during that day’s battle. Her gloved fingers brushed experimentally across the newly regenerated skin, reminding her that it had indeed been wise to bring along the strange little green druid, because without its help she’d most likely have bled out into the snow. With that thought came a vivid recollection of the harpoon embedding in her abdomen, complete with the flash echo of the searing pain and sickening thud of the actual impact.

Her chest burned, and she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

“U-Um, Kitani?” came the nervous and familiar voice of the party’s resident shoemaker. The Kalashtar in question glanced up to find him fiddling with his backpack, and with a questioning look prompted him to continue. After a little nod, he cleared his throat. “I was thinking that I should perhaps repair your jacket? It wouldn’t be wise to continue storming up the mountains with it in its current condition, especially considering that exposed skin could lead to frostbite and other maladies that may not be so simple to heal…” he trailed off, as quietly self-conscious as ever.

“Rikki didn’t exactly sell the bare experience, did he?” she agreed, shrugging out of the thick fur-lined garment. It fell off her shoulders into a stiff pile of leather that still carried the faint scent of blood. Folding it up, she handed it to her comrade, patting the space next to her. “Care to join me?” she asked with a small shiver. “This cave is still pretty cold,” her lips quirked upward, “and I’d much prefer your company over that of the plant, the mute, or the two lovebirds, even if they are generating the most heat,” she finished with a conspiratorial look, the last statement muttered directly into the elf’s mind.

Halfway through the process of sitting down, Rhaelleth realized what had been implied, his head shooting up in thinly veiled panic to focus on the other side of the cave.

To his immense relief, the monk and bard were simply having a nice conversation. Both were bundled up in Rikki’s newly fashioned yeti-pelt blanket, and dancing upon Rikki’s palm was a little flame sprite, hopping in time to his snaps. Jaffeta laughed, attempting to smother the sound with her hand, looking apologetically off to her right. Rhaelleth followed her gaze back to his side of the cave, his eyes eventually settling on the wrapped and rather grumpy-looking form of the Sha’ir, who was staring pointedly at the bard. With a “harrumph” Cruril rolled over and faced the wall, his shoulders hunched and his back to the offending party. Even from the back he looked as he always did; supremely regretful he had ever left his place of residence, let alone ended up with these noisy people on a dangerous and mostly likely fatal journey.

With a small sigh the shoemaker settled into his spot, frowning slightly at the Psion, who merely smirked in return. Mentally he added another tally to list of times she had made him blush. The board was a lot fuller than he would have preferred.

Kitani offered the elf half of her blanket, which he gratefully accepted and settled under before getting down to business. Rhaelleth rifled through his bag, eventually plucking from its over-packed depths a little pouch. From within the pouch came a thick leather needle and a spool of strong thread. Unfolding and preparing the torn coat, he set to work repairing the damage.

After a few minutes of diligently sewing away and evading questions and attempts at conversation with slightly painful results, Rhaelleth finally gave up on being guarded and decided to try out honesty, mingled with a little pathos.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed, but”, his pinpricked fingers stilled as he studiously stared down at the coat in his lap, “I’m not very adept at talking and working at the same time. I had no company back at home, so while working I’ve always been-” he glanced up for a brief moment of eye contact “-alone. In the quiet of the woods.”

The Kalashtar studied the elf’s face. His tone was apologetic, but by the way his fingers ever so slightly shook it was clear he was trying to hide his nervousness. The stress of their earlier engagement, coupled with yet another near-death experience, had taken its toll on the conflict-avoidant little factotum. He needed to keep his hands busy, to craft, to mend, in order to calm his turbulent thoughts and settle his emotions.

Used to a snippy reply, Rhaelleth found the Psion’s seconds of silence both uncharacteristic and worrisome. He opened his mouth to stammer an apology and recant his previous implications, but before he could begin he was silenced by a dismissive wave. Kitani rose to her feet, arching her back in a stretch that caused a few vertebrae to crack satisfactorily. With a lazy grin, she dusted off her pants and stepped out from the pooled blanket. Best to make it clear he hadn’t hurt her feelings before giving him his required space.

“I doubt you’ll ever find that kind of peace with Rikki in the room, but I wish you luck,” she shrugged, taking another step toward the cave entrance. “I think it’s time I checked on our friend keeping watch. Have to make sure he hasn’t frozen solid. Or tried to take a snow bath. Or been absconded by the remaining yetis and forced to become their unwilling bride.”

A derisive snort came from the Cruril bundle.

Both Rhaelleth and Kitani looked over in surprise.

“And with that achievement, I bid you farewell.”

As she walked away, Kitani saw through Silica’s eyes the tension draining from the elf’s shoulders as his hands became steadier and more nimble.

The mouth of the cave was much colder than its interior. The wind had finally died down somewhat now that the worst of the storm had passed, but it still whistled and screamed across the barren face of the mountain. Luckily the snow banks on either side of the cave’s entrance bore the brunt of its wrath, shielding the half-elf on watch duty.

Still, especially for one not fully bundled up, it was not a pleasant place to be.

As Kitani stepped gingerly into the shallow snow outside, she paused for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Although she hadn’t planned to travel far, she wasn’t used to moving blind, and with the turn her luck was taking she was taking all precautions in order to avoid any manner of ungainly tripping and ungraceful tumbles down the sheer sides of cliffs. If a minute’s pause spared her broken bones, well, it seemed like a worthy use of time.

At least she hadn’t needed to wait long. The moon was a waxing crescent, but it remained mostly obscured behind a fast-travelling blanket of clouds. The light it did manage to provide shimmered across the icy surface of the snow, a blanket of refracting and glimmering pinpricks of light constantly in flux as the moon appeared and disappeared.

Soon she could easily make out the features of the half-elf, various edges of steel gleaming in the light where they jutted out from underneath the fur cloak. The shopkeeper had warned that it would look foolish to wear the cold weather wear over armour, but the man hadn’t been deterred. Separating the man from his protective layers was a difficult feat, but- she noted with a small smile- not impossible. A shopkeeper’s disdain or the amusement of a few strangers had no sway over the unforthcoming Crusader. If Ellion had made anything exceedingly obvious in their time together, it was that he was not one to lose sleep over another person’s opinions. He had much more troubling problems to keep him awake at night.

Kitani concentrated, suppressing the mental display of one of her more recently gained powers. In silence except for the occasional whistling of the wind, the covert manifestation soon proved successful, sending the low roll of thoughts blooming in the Psion’s mind. Thoughts that were not her own.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it was an invasion of privacy, but as was the norm, her curiosity outweighed her conscience. It was only a cursory reading anyway she rationalized; in essence no different than the multiple times he had forgotten to cut the mindlink before falling back into his often turbulent thoughts.

He was thinking of home. Trying to pinpoint when exactly he had lost his mind- or rather- when the world had lost any semblance of fairness, rhyme, or reason.

From what he had explained to her, and what she had gleaned from bored manifestations of her currently active power, he truly appreciated the Gentlefolk and all it had done for him. The sentiment was in stark contrast to Rhaelleth’s abject fear of it and any member of it. When they both left their psyches unguarded, the juxtaposition of their two minds murmuring in tandem with such different emotions was almost comical. The elf’s suspicions seemed unfounded; if the organization was truly as honourable and principled as Ellion’s recollections suggested, there seemed to be little to worry about.

Unfortunately, if her parents’ lessons were to be believed and the past was any clue to the future, the truth lay somewhere between the two perspectives. The Gentlefolk had been around for a while, and it was becoming abundantly clear that in this world, the good didn’t last.

She scoffed at the uncharacteristically cynical notion, and a part of her wanted to believe that the conclusion was not entirely her own; that it was coloured by the nihilism of his thoughts bleeding over into hers, but it was just at that moment his attention began to shift focus. The changing flow was a simple one to follow; from the trial of his exile, to cursing Cuthbert with the flavour and creativity of someone who has had at least a couple years of practice, to the times when the god’s power had actually come in handy, one more recent of which was the final confrontation with the vampire spawn strumpet. After that, streamlike and rushing in the way only thoughts and water could be, came the echoes of panic and rage as she lay crumpled and bleeding on the ground, the thrill of their first lone shared victory, the warmth of her in his arms as he guided her back to the tent, the unexpected spike of pleasure when he got her to crack a smile- the real one: unbidden and crooked and beautifully flawed, an unfamiliar and quiet longing that was starting to make him forget his pessimism and drop his guard…

Kitani cleared her throat to interrupt his thoughts and draw his attention, all at once thankful for the thickening darkness that hid her blush and cooled her skin.

With a slow glance over his shoulder, the half-elf gave a curt nod, his face betraying nothing of the turn his mind had taken. In the low roll of his thoughts surfaced a bemusedly murmured “think of the devil…”

…and he shall appear, she finished mentally, refusing to take the perhaps accidentally placed bait. There were those who were clever and knew ways to goad a mind reader into admitting their active craft, and although Ellion clearly lacked higher levels of schooling, there was an adaptive and somewhat cunning edge to his mind that made him more than just a brute with a pretty face.

It also made him dangerous.

…and, although she was loathe to admit it, attractive. But she had expected as much. Muscle was easy to come by: a copper a dozen. Soldiers could be hired. Strength with a solid foundation, backed by a sharp mind or a good heart, now that was valuable. She had started this journey wanting an army to rally behind her, but it was becoming exceedingly clear that what she needed was someone to stand beside her. Someone worthy of her trust.

However, the royal in her balked at the notion of being dependent on anyone but immediate family. The human reminded that beggars could not be choosers, and family was scarce these days. The Kalashtar sang of the merits inherent in all people, particularly of the man before her.

After an exasperated sigh she continued trudging closer, the snow crunching softly under thick leather boots. “Enjoying the mountain air?” she teased.

He scoffed. “Slightly more than the mountain snow. And ice. And bitter, skin-numbing cold.”

She took a few more steps forward, stopping just beside his still form. He was using a boulder as a makeshift seat. His shoulders hunched against the cold, he looked strangely small. Almost vulnerable. “I take it the winters in the east aren’t quite this bad then,” she ventured.

He grunted. It was a touchy subject, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking. There was much to learn about this man, this city, this continent; when she finally found her parents, they would be interested in all of the information she’d gathered. The more, the better. They’d be proud of their little diplomat-in-training.

Ellion began to speak as he turned toward her, but after a cursory glance that turned into a double take, he just raised his eyebrows instead.

“Uhh… a little underdressed, aren’t you?” he smiled.

She half-shrugged, half-shivered, her gloved hand automatically rising to hover over the point of impact. There was a coin-sized hole in her shirt where the harpoon had pierced the material, and without the thick fur coat the freshly healed skin was now exposed to the elements. “Yet another fun side-effect of being stabbed.” Left unsaid after the glib comment was quiet appreciation for the healing-inclined members of the party, but she showed her gratitude in other ways. Like taking the brunt of enemy aggression, and talking to intimidating strangers… as well as intimidating comrades. “You never answered my question.”

This time it was Ellion’s turn to shrug. “There aren’t many places as cold as the face of a mountain. Especially at night and right after a storm.” He stamped his feet, shaking off a thin layer of snow that had accumulated on the fur. “And in the places that are, whatever and whoever lives there are probably comfortably inside. Or gods-forsakenly stupid and deserving of whatever’s coming to them,” he grumbled, staring out into the darkness with narrowed eyes.

“Good to see the cold hasn’t dampened your optimism”.

He looked back at her just in time to catch sight of a particularly violent shiver work its way down her spine. When he next spoke, his voice was softer and carried a hint of worry.

“I’m serious. Shouldn’t you be inside?”

“And leave you out here to be abducted by yetis or wayward strumpets? I think not.” The chattering of her teeth robbed the words of much of their conviction.

He didn’t relent, twisting in his seat to get a better look at her. “That’s very thoughtful of you,” one side of his frown quirked upward. “That being said, if it means you don’t freeze to death, I think I’ll take my chances.”

His gaze met hers, and the snippy retort that had been formulating in her head died without a sound.

And once again the blush was back.

The next few moments were spent in silence, which grew progressively more awkward as Kitani’s shivers increased in intensity and her face grew warmer.

Suddenly realizing what was happening, she broke eye contact, looking somewhere, anywhere that was not at the surprisingly sweet and irritatingly multi-faceted Crusader. He was supposed to be grumpy and inconsiderate. Straightforward and intimidating and offputtingly awkward. The sudden potential for gentleness had not been part of the bargain.

Eyes off to the side as she avoided his looks of concern, she tried to rub some warmth back into her arms. “Oh please,” she mumbled, “As if a bit of snow could kill me. It’s not like it’s got fangs or projectile weaponry…” she trailed off, all at once self-conscious and fumbling. In a desperate bid for a distraction she once again called up the stream of his thoughts. “…don’t need the tough act. I’ve got the protection and brute force side covered.” She breathed a sigh of relief at the comfortingly predictable bruiser notion. “You’ve got the charming and perplexing down and by the gods how can something that deadly be that cute it shou-“ She slammed the flow shut with a barely audible squeak. Mistake. She studiously avoided eye contact. Congratulations, she inwardly groaned, you made it worse.

“Just- uh,” he began. “Look… please don’t take this the wrong way and punch me in the brain, but the way I see it you’ve got two choices here. Go back inside and brave our bizarre companions in the relative warmth, or stay out here. With me. In the cold.”

“You trying to get rid of me?” she asked with less than sincere incredulousness, temporarily pausing bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet in order to pout.

“No! Maybe. Well… yes? I’d rather you not die of stubbornness or curiosity or…” he shifted nervously “…whatever the hell it is that’s keeping you out here.” He blinked once, slowly, before glancing off to the side. Out of habit, she once again pulled up the stream of his thoughts. He had the tendency to leave any non-crucial words unsaid, if not completely omitting speaking in favour of glowering or simply looking exasperated. After the first couple of incomplete conversations with the reticent man, she began taking precautions to be ready to tap into his inner monologue and fill in the blanks he was so fond of leaving. He was a very different man on the inside than suggested by the image he projected to the world.

Her interest piqued, she watched his sudden tenseness with a carefully blank expression. He grimaced, taking a few seconds to search for the right words before continuing speaking. “At least you could- uh,” oh gods what am I doing, “potentially, that is,” seriously, when the fuck did this become difficult “if you are set on staying out here,” in the cold, very underdressed, not that I mind if you don’t “ there’s enough room here to… share?” okay that sounded better in my head. Good job moron you just made everything awkw-

“Took you long enough,” she smirked. Wait what. The look of surprise and- was that a blush?- on that usually taciturn but always striking face was enough to keep her own self-consciousness at bay. He floundered, looking at her first with bewilderment, and then suspicion. Still admiring the aloof-turned-bashful play of confused expressions, she couldn’t help but tease him a little more.

“For a minute there I was worried you didn’t like my company,” and had read weeks worth of signals completely incorrectly. Thank goodness Silica isn’t here to witness this.

He didn’t move. “Well?” She waved both gloved hands at him.

“Oh. Oh. Yeah.” Ellion scooted over, his relief visible as he raised one side of the fur cloak. She slid onto the rock beside him, pulling the offered corner of the fur around her shoulders with a little sigh.

“Much better,” she purred, soaking up the warmth with all the pleasure of a cat basking in a sunbeam.

A couple minutes passed in relative silence. Kitani had been very subtly worming her way closer to the half-elf, purely because of his heat-producing capabilities she rationalized, belatedly picking up on the double entendre with a defeated sigh. “Who am I kidding?” she breathed. She realized she had in fact said that out loud, and her eyes flicked up to the half-elf’s face.

He cleared his throat once, jaw set and eyes focused out into the darkness, seemingly unaware of the slip. Back rigid, he made no movement.

Immediately alert, she followed his gaze. Nothing but moonlight gleaming on the snow. Still, she didn’t want to take any chances.

He immediately acquiesced to the mindlink.

There’s something out there, he warned.

Can you tell what it is? What did you see?

He sent a picture of a vague blur; a memory of what might have been a grey tuft of something behind a bluff a few yards to the east.

And what is that supposed to be?

Not sure. Could be- FUCK!!!

His thoughts blurred into alarm as whatever it was came charging through the darkness toward them. Hand shooting to the blade at his side, Ellion darted forward in order to meet the thing head-on. It was close, but he knew if he moved fast he could keep it from reaching the woman beside him.

Before he could make it there, a ray of pure fire blasted past him, hitting the thing square in the chest. The air smelled like charred fur for a moment before the wind whipped it away.

Frozen in place, the yeti tottered back and forth, clearly staggered. As the smoke cleared it whimpered, turning on its heel and disappearing back into the darkness.

Ellion squinted after it in confusion, sword half-drawn. Somewhere in the distance he could hear its whine disappear into the wind.

Once satisfied that the danger had passed he sheathed his weapon, turning to look questioningly at his companion.

She was glaring into the distance in the direction the creature had vanished, the only evidence of her interference a small frown and the trace of a violet aura around her usually blue-white irises.

I could have handled that, he contended.

I don’t doubt that, she acknowledged, eyes still narrowed and gloved hands gripping the stone. Then with a derisive exhale, but I don’t appreciate my time with you being interrupted.

Upon realizing what had just slipped out of her mind, Kitani had to restrain herself from burying her face in her hands. She risked a glance at the half-elf.

Ellion blinked slowly, unsure if he had just heard what he thought he had.

Did she just… “That’s… well, that’s actually reall-“ he was interrupted by a meek voice calling from the entrance to the cave.

“Kitani? Are you still out here?”

Both of the people outside jerked over to look at the newcomer.

Rhaelleth, they thought in tandem.

The Kalashtar beckoned the shoemaker forward. Good timing, she almost laughed. Praise the powers that be for elven intuition. She eagerly welcomed the distraction.

Rhaelleth approached cautiously, stammering an apology for interrupting. He held out the newly mended jacket.

Kitani took the offered garment, barely registering the line of neat little stitches that was indicative of very fine workmanship.

“Thanks so much,” she exclaimed a little too enthusiastically, throwing her free arm around the elf’s narrow shoulders while simultaneously turning him back toward the cave. “Now that that’s taken care of, why don’t you tell me another one of your elven myths? Or maybe you can repair this?” she blurted, absentmindedly gesturing at her torso and the remaining layers of damaged fabric. Rhaelleth automatically turned to follow the motion of her hand. In as close proximity as they were, the move resulted in his face practically in her chest.

Kitani noticed neither Rhaelleth’s closeness nor his profuse blushing. For the first time she also overlooked his long ears drooping, which was usually a point of victory in any conversation with the diminutive artisan. As she dragged him toward the cave his presence barely registered as anything beside the pivotal cog in facilitating her escape.

She had already said too much. There was just something about the dour half-elf that piqued her interest in a wholly hazardous way. Somehow she could spend weeks in hiding while manipulating strangers out of their money and information, and yet without any trying this man made her concentration slip. He was a bad influence without meaning to be, inciting rashness and recklessness and being inherently disarming. Around him she was impulsive and guileless.

Just like how she used to be back in Sothluria.

But why? How did he undo the effect so much time and distance and danger had wrought?

… He made her feel safe.

The insight came on the heels of the budding realization that he was earning her trust. That… was something she was not prepared for.

It was time to get away from the half-elf before she said anything else.

As he was pushed forward, Rhaelleth looking questioningly over his shoulder at Ellion. The elf had feared the man since he first suspected his affiliation with the Gentlefolk, and time had only made him more certain that his initial apprehension was correct, if not understated. He dreaded being alone with the half-elf without the tempering influence of the Psion, going so far as to avoid eye contact and any direct confrontation. In their weeks of travelling together the shoemaker had never really even spoken with the man.

And he wanted to keep it that way.

Right before they vanished into the cave, Rhaelleth chanced a fleeting look back at the man on guard duty, and immediately wished he hadn’t.

If looks could kill, Rhaelleth imagined that he would be very, very dead.

Well, at I’ll be safe inside the cave, he hoped. At least for now. Probably.

… I should never have left my house.

#fic #drabble #oc #ocs #character building #my otp #my ocs #canon #sfw #kitani #el

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