#i need specific names. specific memories! who among their family was killed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

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👀 PLease tell us your thoughts about the Jedi babies re-growing up among different cultural contexts.

Oh fuck okay

Context: original post, chrono The specific post this ask is referencing: here

Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka), are now staying with the True Mandalorians under Jaster Mereel because the Force said to, go back to the Temple after about a decade. They grabbed Shmi about three months after arriving.

So as far as the cultural background goes, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had similar upbringings. She spent a few years on Shili first, but both spent the majority of their childhoods up to age 13/14 being raised in the creche. So that's the basis that they would default to, in a vacuum.

Nobody is raised in a vacuum.

Along with the Jedi cultural background, they're being raised by Tatooine natives in a Mandalorian environment.

Shmi and Anakin are both former slaves who have desert survival baked into their bones. The longer Anakin spends around her, the more his accent slips, the more he talks about old folktales, the more he uses idioms that don't exist on a cityplanet like Coruscant. All the things that he tamped down to be a Jedi come floating back to the surface, and Shmi's never known anything else. Anakin's knowledge of slave customs make her feel more comfortable, which in turn makes him feel better, and so on.

Mandalore is just... the culture they're living in. You don't grow up in a new culture with a new language without picking up on it personally. (Source: I moved to the US when I was a little under two years old.)

I think the thing I'm going to focus on as an example is the way each of these cultures approaches family, and then maybe how they approach the keeping of peace/what peace means.

Jedi: Where you come from means little, only the legacy you leave behind in your students. Mandalore: You protect your clan and your children; adoption is a major cultural value, if not actually practiced consistently. Tatooine: You can lose your family at any time, so you value what you have in all its forms. You don’t forget where and who you came from, to family of blood and family of choice alike. You cling to your memories and what little you still have of them, to what your master cannot take away.

These are all valid ways to approach family, and each of these approaches can have significant meaning to different people. But they do all, to a certain degree, conflict with one another, despite all three being fairly communal cultures.

The Jedi have a culture, one that’s built on a shared ability and religion over thousands of years. It’s not just an organization, but a continuous community with legends and traditions and art and records. But it’s one that is built on new blood coming in from the outside, volunteers who join because the religion speaks to them (near literally, given the nature of Force Sensitivity), given up by families who couldn’t or wouldn’t teach them in a way that let their talents flourish instead of pushing it all down.

For the Jedi, a culture built on people coming together due to something they have in common intrinsically that their families of blood do not, it makes sense to put emphasis on letting go of that past when they can, and to place importance on teaching lineages. It’s not just the official master-padawan pairs, either, but that’s the most obvious and easily paralleled element. Moreover, a lot of the Jedi culture is about gaining knowledge, so obviously spreading it is good, and also on supporting the galaxy to make it a better place; to view the Jedi order as a heavily communal culture would make sense, since their values are all about selfless betterment of the universe, which on a larger scale is about the galactic conflicts, but on a smaller scale is about supporting their own community, the children and the ill and elderly.

So that is the specific culture that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka grew up in, one that holds blood family as relevant but not particularly crucial to one’s identity, but is structured so people leave behind legacies through education in a manner that often becomes adoptive family (depending on your definition, I guess). Jedi are encouraged to connect to their home cultures, if not their families, with practices like the coming of age hunt for Togruta leading to the young Jedi taking a trip out to Shili to engage in that cultural milestone. This can also be viewed as a way for the Jedi to maintain personal connections to the wider universe, a (not entirely successful, but certainly attempted) way of keeping them from becoming too isolated and insular from the universe at large, and losing touch from what the galaxy actually needs of them.

They’re now growing up with two cultures that do place emphasis on blood and found family.

Mandalore, as presented in The Mandalorian, has their traditional values set as being heavily associated with their armor, battle skills, and childcare. While that’s clearly a set of values that aren’t actually followed by everyone with full sincerity, we can assume that these stated cultural values do have at least some impact on the way the society is structured, since we do see more traditional characters (Jaster, Din) adopt orphaned children and then have the Mandalorian elements of their immediate circles support that claim.

(We’ll ignore Jango and the whole clone army thing because the amount of Sith influence is up for debate and also holy trauma, Batman.)

However, we also see that a lot of Mandalorian culture is built on their family histories. On the New Mandalorian side, we see emphasis placed on the fact that Satine is House Kryze and that she’s a duchess. Her bloodline is relevant, though not the most important thing about her. On the Death Watch side, we have Pre and Tor placing emphasis on the fact that they’re Clan Vizsla, descended from Tarre, that this is important to why they deserve what the darksaber represents, this is part of why they not only deserve to lead, but should for the good of Mandalore.

Bo-Katan’s armor is a family heirloom. Boba’s armor was Jango’s, but before being Jango’s, it was Jaster’s. Armor is important enough to pass to family, but the family can be adopted. This all tracks.

The resol’nare specifies loyalty and care for the clan/tribe among the six tenets.

These two elements seem relatively well-balanced: the importance of adoption and the importance of family as a larger unit on the level of a house or clan.

And then you have Tatooine, which also balances blood and adoption, but for entirely different reasons, that being this: it can always be taken from you.

For all that a Mandalorian could historically expect their family to die in battle, and a Jedi could expect to lose their master the same way if things went poorly, those were usually choices. A Mandalorian was raised to walk into battle, and then they could make that choice to do so. It wasn’t often much of a choice, but they could feasibly turn their back and choose to be a farmer or a doctor or something, and support the people who went out to do battle instead of being the one on the field themselves. A Jedi could choose to be a healer or an archivist or join one of the Corps.

A slave does not get that choice. A slave can be killed or sold on a whim from their master. It’s not a one-time trauma, but an ever-present fear. Your parent, your child, your sibling, your spouse, all of them can be separated from you at any time. You can always lose them, and you have no choice but to grin and bear it, or try to run and die before you reach freedom.

In a context like that, I imagine Tatooine places a very heavy emphasis on family, both of blood and of choice, and on treasuring what you have while you have it. A person is always aware that they can lose whoever they have in their life, and so they make the most of their times together, have clear and consistent ways of expressing that love (I imagine primarily direct verbal confirmations and physical contact, practical gifts like water and fruit). Childcare is important, elders are venerated. Those who survived that far have valuable wisdom, and the children are to be given what happiness they can have before reality wipes that ability from them.

The family ‘networks’ among Tatooine slaves are smaller and tighter knit. There’s less trust for outsiders, but once you’re in, you’re in until you are taken away. Still, families are torn apart regularly, and often can’t contact each other after being separated if they’re sold far enough away, so families stay small because they’re always being broken up. Unlike Mandalore’s tribe/clan system, or the Jedi’s wide, loosely-structured community, Tatooine’s slaves form smaller groups that cling for as long as they can, and try to support each other. (There are selfish ones, of course, especially the newbies, but... well. Most try.)

Tatooine is also much more likely to assign a familial role (e.g. referring to an elder as ‘grandmother’). It’s not uncommon in the others (multiple Jedi refer to their masters as a parent or sibling, like Anakin’s “you’re like a father to me” line), but it’s not as baked-in that such a role should be given.

So on a structural level, we have two people from a community culture with little emphasis on blood family or formal familial roles are now being raised in a community that has them asking “what can you do for the people around you first, and then the wider world?” by people who tell them “your family, blood and found, is the most important thing you have; never let anyone take more from you than they possibly can.”

And that shit has an effect.

For all that Sokanth and Ylliben were once raised with a knowledge that their duty, their goal, was to better the galaxy as a whole, they are now being told that the community that raises them asks their loyalty back, because societies are built on support networks, and if you support the tribe, it will support you. There are parallels to that kind of thinking among Jedi, because it is basic social theory, but it’s not presented as the same kind of cultural value. It’s not given as something to strive for, just a basic fact.

This, for instance, means that once they’re back at the Temple, they have a tendency towards suggesting study groups and other ways of supporting people in their immediate circle, often structured in very unfamiliar ways. Again, this isn’t uncommon among Jedi, but it’s not done in the same way, or with the same emphasis. The Jedi also often approach problem-solving in a different order, so the step of “meditate on it and you may find your solution” often comes before “gather information from people who know more about it than you do,” while Ben and Soka have by this point learned to do it the other way around, because that’s what the Mandalorian system taught them: rely on your family first.

Meanwhile, the Tatooine element of their upbringing has them being much more willing to just... casually refer to ‘my dad’ and ‘my sister’ and so on. They use those words. It’s not just “my master is like a father to me,” but “this is my father.” They don’t hesitate to talk about the family they had and still have in Mandalorian space. None of the Jedi begrudge them it, really, but it’s always a shock to hear for the first time, and between the Tatooine refusal to pretend the connection is gone and the Mandalorian tendency to err on the side of roughhousing as affection, they’re just... odd. It’s not like none of the other Jedi know family outside the Order--some of the old books had Obi-Wan visiting his brother on Stewjon once in a while--or like none of the active Jedi are loud or boisterous, but the specific manner in which Soka and Ben interact with the Order, especially when their dad is around, is very weird.

More Soka than Ben, really, but that’s mostly just because Ben’s a very quiet person until he gets a little older, so it’s harder to notice on him.

Point is, while they still hold to their duty to the wider galaxy and will continue to keep that duty above almost anything else in their lives, the way they talk and act about the subject of family, especially in private, is heavily influenced by their new cultures.

This is already very long but I promised I’d talk about peace so let’s go:

The Jedi seek peace as an absence of war and conflict in the portion of the galaxy under their purview, in hopes that they will prevent as much suffering and death as they can.

The Mandalorians are varied, but Jaster Mereel’s group (which is the community the Skywalkers are with) is likely to view peace as unrealistic to achieve in the long term. They do not seek war, but they know the world they live in, and are prepared to protect against violence as their first resort. They always expect an attack, even if they don’t seek it.

The Slaves of Tatooine view peace as the calm in a storm. It is the status quo. Nobody has escaped tonight, for the guards aren’t searching, but neither is anyone dead. The Master you have is in a good enough mood to not sell you, to not kill you, to not beat you. Peace as an absence of suffering is impossible, so you seek for your master to be peaceful, that is to say: not raging at you.

The scope of each of these narrows significantly. From the known galaxy, to the wars that meet Mandalorian space, to the household one serves.

A community like the Jedi can choose to address peace as something to be sought on a large scale as an absence of war. They primarily function within the borders of the Republic, which has its problems but is largely structured to prevent such things from occurring until the Sith interfere. The Jedi have a structure that allows them to address peace as an ideal to be sought, at least within the borders of the territory they serve.

Mandalore, meanwhile, has been at war on and off for... ever. When they are not at war with themselves, they’re at war with someone else. ‘Peace’ is just the time between wars, and they know that if they do not attack first, they will be forced to defend. Jaster Mereel was known as the Reformer, and part of that was that instituting a code of honor, one that was intended to prevent Mandalorian warriors from acting as raiders and brigands, but rather acting as honorable hired soldiers, or taking roles such as the Journeyman Protectors. Given that, I imagine that he views war as something inevitable, but also something that can be mitigated.

War doesn’t touch Tatooine.

Oh, it might raise taxes and import rates. It might prevent visitors who come for the races. It can do a lot of things.

But to a slave, these are nothing. The only thing war does is affect the master, the person who chooses when their slaves get water, when they get beaten, when they are no longer useful enough to keep around or keep alive.

The peace of a slave’s live is dictated by how much abuse they are subjected to by the person who owns them.

What this means for Soka and Ben is... well, they are viewed as war-hungry by the people who don’t know them very well. They have armor. They focus on fighting, both with and without their sabers. They know tactics better than most masters. They claim that war is coming, and don’t seem too sad about it.

(It is a fact to them. War will come. All they can do is meet it. They’ve already done their mourning once.)

They also... well, Shmi tells them things in hidden corners. How to duck their head to hide the hate or fear in their eyes. How to watch for the anger in the tendons of a hand. The laugh of someone who enjoys the pain they’ve caused, not just the adrenaline of a fight. She is free, and so are they, but she has not forgotten how to hide in the shadows until the master’s ire has turned elsewhere. How to be small and quiet and unseen until the danger passes.

A Jedi’s first resort is words. Their second is their saber. But the Jeedai hold their heads high, and the Mandalorians do the same.

“You rely on the Force, and you have your pride,” she tells them, her hands on their own. “But there will come a time when you will not be able to remind people that you are free. You will not be able to say that you are a person, that you deserve the respect of a living sentient. Perhaps it will be a politician who treats everyone like that. Perhaps you will be captured by an enemy. Perhaps you will be undercover. You will not be able to fight, with words or with weapons, and you will have to know how to survive.”

Tatooine does not have peace. Tatooine only has survival.

And while Jedi fight for the survival and peace of the universe, they are refined and composed. Mando’ade fight like warriors of old, and Tatooine slaves fight like cornered, rabid anooba.

The galaxy comes first, but when the chips are down and the Sith come out to play, Soka and Ben do not need refinement, because they know how to toss aside their pride and live.

#Tatooine #Mandalore #Jedi #culture clash #star wars #the clone wars #Anakin Skywalker #Shmi Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Obi Wan Kenobi #Jaster Mereel #family #war #Phoenix Posts #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #Phoenix Answers Asks #I have no idea how accurate this is but it's what I'm working with

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agentrouka-blog · 3 years ago

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"Bless my steel with a kiss.” He extended the blade down to her. “Go on, kiss it.” - Sansa V, ACOK. "Kiss her?” Ser Barristan repeated, aghast. “A steel kiss,” said Littlefinger."- Eddard VIII, AGOT. So joffery had his sword Hearteater kissed by Sansa. LF saying about kissing Dany with knife who is a heart eater. Jon saved Ygritte from Ebben who tried to gave her steel kiss.

There's an interesting motif of steel kisses that casts Starks in the role of the protectors who refuse to kill, and the intended victim as a danger of some kind - a witness or a future threat who often does end up fulfilling that threat.

The Starks seemingly fail to fulfill the higher purpose intended by the kill - and suffer for it. Seemingly.

It all actually neats ties into the deeper meaning of the Nissa Nissa story.

We have Tyrion, who is spared by Catelyn.

Tyrion felt the cold kiss of steel beneath his chin. “Shall I bleed him, my lady?”

“Kill me and the truth dies with me,” Tyrion gasped. (AGOT, Tyrion IV)

We have Dany, who is spared by Ned.

"Kiss her?" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast.

"A steel kiss," said Littlefinger. (AGOT, Eddard VIII)

We have Ygritte who is spared by Jon.

Ebben drew his dagger. “A steel kiss will keep her quiet.”

Jon’s throat was raw. He looked at them all helplessly. “She yielded herself to me.” (ACOK, Jon VI)

It reveals the character of the Starks. Their choice not to kill speaks about them as much as the choice to be villainous speaks of those they spared.

"I did not command it. I told you to do what needed to be done, and left you to decide what that would be. (...)To lead men you must know them, Jon Snow. I know more of you now than I did this morning." "And if I had slain her?" asked Jon. "She would be dead, and I would know you better than I had before." (ACOK, Jon VII)

Ygritte, among other awful things, ends up killing someone in the exact same way that she herself was spared. Tyrion becomes an enemy to House Stark and the Vale.

It stands to reason Dany will also not reward Ned's determination to spare her by being a friend to his family. Silencing witnesses, or removing threats to her throne seem to be on the menue for her future path in Westeros.

Does that mean the Starks failed by not killing their enemies when they were down? No. Mercy is not a flaw. Murder and cruelty are flaws.

Which ties into a central story introduced in ACOK: Azor Ahai and his "sacrifice" of Nissa Nissa. She is, allegedly, killed to serve a higher purpose. Just as with the proposed steel kisses of Ygritte and Dany.

'Nissa Nissa,' he said to her, for that was her name, 'bare your breast, and know that I love you best of all that is in this world.' She did this thing, why I cannot say, and Azor Ahai thrust the smoking sword through her living heart. It is said that her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the face of the moon, but her blood and her soul and her strength and her courage all went into the steel. (ACOK, Davos I)

Sansa is the Stark placed in the Nissa Nissa perspective, in that she is the one kissing the blade, specifically to bless it.

"Bless my steel with a kiss." He extended the blade down to her. "Go on, kiss it."

He had never sounded more like a stupid little boy. Sansa touched her lips to the metal, thinking that she would kiss any number of swords sooner than Joffrey. (ACOK, Sansa V)

Sansa thinks being asked to kiss the steel is the mark of a stupid little boy. A villainous idiot. Azor Ahai is a villainous idiot.

Later, a different blade "kisses" her throat. A scenario she transforms into an unwelcome literal kiss in her memory, even.

Please don't kill me, she wanted to scream, please don't. She could feel him twisting the point, pushing it into her throat, and she almost closed her eyes again, but then she remembered. It was not the song of Florian and Jonquil, but it was a song. Her voice sounded small and thin and tremulous in her ears. (...)

She had forgotten the other verses. When her voice trailed off, she feared he might kill her, but after a moment the Hound took the blade from her throat, never speaking. (ACOK, Sansa VII)

She sings him the Hymn Of The Mother, "font of mercy", "teach us all a kinder way", and he refrains from raping and murdering her. He is ashamed.

The steel kiss is not a willing gift. Nissa Nissa does not want to die and bless the steel. It is wrong. There is a better way.

Ygritte and Dany and Joffrey, on the other hand, occupy the villainous perspective, eating hearts, blessing steel and slitting throats with gusto. Dany sacrifices a slave to give her life for her dragons. Tyrion, too, rides out to battle with blades “kissed by fire” getting “battle madness”. Bargain Basement Azor Ahai Stannis (thank you, @istumpysk) is busy with his fiery human sacrifices.

In the endgame, it’s likely to come to another confrontation with the idea of killing for a higher purpose, sacrificing the defenseless or removing a potential threat.

We know where the Starks stand, we know where Dany stands.

The heart of a stallion would make her son strong and swift and fearless, or so the Dothraki believed, but only if the mother could eat it all. If she choked on the blood or retched up the flesh, the omens were less favorable; the child might be stillborn, or come forth weak, deformed, or female. (AGOT, Daenerys V)

“Weak, deformed, or female.” I salute the future rulers of Westeros. <3

#rouka queue #steel kiss #azor ahai #nissa nissa #eddard stark #catelyn stark #jon snow #sansa stark #anti ygritte #anti daenerys targaryen #anti tyrion lannister #anti stannis baratheon #mercy #human sacrifice

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alexiethymia · 3 years ago

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Jeanne Theories (but more like questions)

A dump for all my questions and theories about Jeanne. In the manga, the third chapter is named after her (Chapter 1 is Vanitas, while Chapter 2 is Noe). Arguably, you could say she’s the third most important character. Among all of the main characters, her past seems to be the one we know least about. This actually ties to my questions relating to vampires and their ages.

I am a bit confused about how aging works with vampires and how that reflects physically. We have Noe and Dominique who are chronologically the same age as Vanitas. Assuming nothing goes wrong, human Vanitas would die of old age (except we know that isn’t the case), while Noe and Dominique would look physically the same how many years later. Jeanne’s age wasn’t intentionally revealed because I think it ties in with the plot, but we know she’s centuries older than the main cast. She’s been with Ruthven since before the betrayal, and grew up with Chloe. This is where it gets confusing for me. Chloe became a vampire at four, but physically stopped aging at eleven years old. Jean Jaques was also a hidden vampire changed by Babel but he ended up growing and looking older than Chloe (at least physically). Same with Jeanne. She and Chloe met when Jeanne was younger than her, but Jeanne grew up to look like a young woman. I’m curious as to the difference as to why it was only Chloe who stopped growing physically at around eleven years old, although she’s older than Ruthven.

Jeanne’s link to Luna of the Blue Moon

I don’t think the line above is a throw-away line. Jeanne was of Ruthven’s time, and we find out that Luna had also seen her, specifically during the time of the Great War. She left that big of an impact on Luna that they would retell the story to Vanitas (and I presume Mikhail too), which had that much of impact on him as well.

They removed this context from the anime which makes it as if Vanitas heard of Jeanne through stories, except we know from the manga that it was more personal since he heard it from Luna.

Why exactly did Luna have admiration towards Jeanne? Was it because she was slaughtering Vampires of the Red Moon? But contrary to the rumors, recent chapters would show us that Luna didn’t seem to be a vengeful entity or hold ill-will toward Vampires of the Red Moon.

Luna was also probably the reason why Vanitas felt an initial connection with Jeanne. Like with his hourglass earring, the name, the book, the gloves, etc., despite their complicated past, Vanitas seems to be (consciously or unconsciously) maintaining a link with Luna.

Jeanne’s Slumber (possible connections with Sleeping Beauty)

Why was it necessary for Jeanne to sleep all this time? And why did she have to wake up now, at this exact moment in time? What exact thing does Ruthven need to use her for, and for what purpose? Because let’s admit it, Lord Ruthven is shady af.

It’s also ironic how Jeanne reads Sleeping Beauty and places Vanitas in the princess’ position, when she has more in common with the fairytale. Having to sleep for a hundred years, her mark is that of a rose with thorns evoking the imagery of ‘Briar Rose’ and the spindle, while her epithet ‘Hellfire Witch’ evokes imagery of the evil fairy who could turn into a dragon and breathe fire (admittedly I may be focusing on the Disney version too much).

We know she’s named after Jeanne d’Arc, a martyr who was burnt at the stake (please, please, let this not be foreshadowing of how she dies) hence the connection to her epithet ‘Hellfire Witch’, but even disregarding how vampires (and perhaps humans as well?) have true names, Vanitas says she was ‘bestowed’ a saintly name. We know she was adopted, and we don’t know the circumstances of her birth which are shrouded in mystery, but could Ruthven have been the one to grant the name ‘Jeanne’ to her?

If not for the fact that we already had Florifel and Eglantine in the first chapter, I would have thought Jeanne’s true name and malnomen if she gets one later would be connected to the fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty.

Jeanne’s Malady

The vampires in Vanitas no Carte are different from the stereotypical portrayals of vampires, except for one - Jeanne. Jeanne has that uncontrollable desire to drink blood, and yet as of now, doesn’t appear to be a curse bearer. Based on her patchy memories, we can infer it was Ruthven who made her like this, is the one to supply her with her sketchy medicine, all the while forcing her to swear not to talk about it.

Is she in the same predicament as Loki, Luca’s older brother, forced to have the symptoms of a curse bearer and yet being prevented from being cured, by Ruthven? For what greater purpose? Why is it necessary for Loki to be a curse bearer? And more intriguing than that, why is he consenting to it? It all relates to the Queen somehow, something which no one is privy to except the Oriflamme Family.

Sleeping Lions

Who could Marquis Machina be referring to? Everyone in the Oriflamme family, and by extension Jeanne, have connections with the imagery of lions and fire (they seem to have an elemental affinity like how Luca displayed, except that Ruthven’s is black fire, which makes me wonder what color Loki’s flames would be if ever). Jeanne can’t seem to manipulate the World Formula like Ruthven and Veronica though. The flames come out of her gauntlet, Carpe Diem.

In relation to that, I think Misha’s patron is Marquis Machina. In the same way, Marquis Machina built Carpe Diem for Jeanne, I think he built Misha’s hand and dog for him. I mean Marquis Machina doesn’t seem to be working with Ruthven and Charlatan. His pieces seem to be the kin of the Blue Moon (Vanitas and Misha), the dhams, and the De Sade family. It could also be that the De Sade have their own agenda and are just using Marquis Machina or it’s just a mutual beneficial arrangement. If so, an eventually power struggle is bound to break out, possibly between the De Sade and the Oriflamme families, and poor Jeanne will be caught in the middle. Where then does the Shapeless One play into this? Perhaps a third faction? A silent observer? A loyalist to the queen? There’s still too little information to theorize.

Who could the Sleeping Lion Marquis Machina wants to see wake up be?

Jeanne, Faustina, Luna, and Naenia

It could just be a stylistic thing, but the long flowing light colored hair seem to be common among all of them.

In relation to Pandora Hearts and its themes of will and what measure is a person, what if the Jeanne that we know now is just a consciousness inhabiting a body (kind of like Oz and Jack), specifically the queen’s body to be exact. It would certainly be foreshadowing to when she says ‘promise to kill me when I’m no longer myself anymore’.

Alternatively, the current Jeanne we know may just be a vessel or a golem to house the Queen whose body has deteriorated. It certainly would explain why she was treated as a doll even in her earliest memories. ‘Jeanne’ isn’t supposed to exist.

Although it’s a long shot, since Ruthven has connections with Charlatan, and by extension Dr. Moreau, could ‘No. 70′ have been Jeanne? Again like I said, it’s a long shot. I think it’s likelier that No. 70 is a character we haven’t been introduced to yet.

Jeanne’s Parents

This is a Mochizuki work. Of course, there’s got to be something to it. Why exactly did they side with the humans so suddenly in the war? What horrible thing did the vampires do to have over a thousand of their kind turn against them? And yet the way it reads, rather than betray Ruthven, I think Jeanne’s parents along with all of the vampires who were slaughtered were sacrificial pawns. Maybe I’m just really biased against Ruthven, but I think he was the one to lead the rebellion of his students, and like Chloe, although he presents himself to be an ally of the current Vampire Monarchy, perhaps he’s just biding his time to get revenge for his students. In working with Charlatan, it’s vampires who he’s harming.

What greater purpose could he have in wanting to assassinate his own nephew or ally himself with a known vampire extermination unit of the Chasseurs (Gano and his ilk) or in killing so many vampires by having their true names corrupted?

Face to face with Noe, we see in their meeting that Noe says the exact same words Ruthven told Chloe when he was younger. Noe reminds Ruthven of his students, while Ruthven reminds Noe of his teacher. I’m not really sure where I’m going with this, but it seems like the Ruthven of now scorns his past self’s moderate and progressive ideals of vampires and humans living in harmony. He speaks of our side, your side, and Noe having to choose one or the other. And yet all of his collective actions at this point have served not to protect but rather harm vampire kind, which puts him in direct opposition to Vanitas who wants to save vampires.

In relation to Jeanne, there will be a boiling point. She’s loyal to Luca and she’s loyal to Ruthven. She’s incredibly fond of Dominique. As of now, she also loves Vanitas. And yet down the line, inevitably Luca and Ruthven will be on opposing sides, so I am curious to see how the betrayals and conflicting loyalties will play out.

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orikoaurora · 3 years ago

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Can Palestinian Lives Matter?

“Palestinians don’t exist,” they said. With time this moment would blur, but not fade, mingling with innumerable interactions in which strangers would likewise inform me of my nonexistence. In that moment, though, it was a wholly new experience. I felt the brief flicker of a laugh before the sick sense of outrage landed in my gut. Before I could find the words to respond, the accuser was gone.

How strange, to tell a living, breathing human being, to their face, that they are “unreal.” And what would be the proper defense? How does one reply to a delusion?

Because something happens at the mention of that word Palestinian. In the moment it is uttered.

Palestinians as a people, are visible but rarely seen. We do not “exist” as others do; we have neither a formal country nor any economic or military power to speak of. We have a history and culture, but these are eroded and appropriated more with every passing year. Mostly, we are collectively obscured by what people think they know, what they think we are: threats, troublemakers, terrorists.

This is how we can be in so many headlines and yet die such endless deaths. We die, in part, because that is what the world expects of us. Our name is invoked only in connection to brutality and strife, which are presented as inevitable, our natural state. Reports read like weather reports: The “climate” “heats up” then “boils over” into “another wave of violence.” Our casualties are like the seasons — a crop of dead every few years, usually in Gaza.

All this because we are among the world’s disposable people. What kills us is not only Israeli state violence but the international community’s collective failure to imagine us as human beings. It is the same failure that has allowed so many Black bodies to be murdered in the broad daylight of viral videos, with so little systemic change. As Elizabeth Alexander has written, “Black bodies in pain for public consumption have been an American national spectacle for centuries.” With such a violent collective memory, it’s no wonder white Americans have been so egregiously slow and equivocal in responding to anti-Black violence. For who is more visible in the U.S. than a Black person? Yet who is the most seldom seen?

This is the lethal contradiction that generations of Black intellectuals and activists have worked to dismantle. The “problem of the color line,” as W.E.B. DuBois called it, will only be solved when the U.S., as a whole, grasps the full humanity of Black people, who have been systematically dehumanized. There can be no going forward, in short, until the U.S. internalizes the most basic truth that Black Lives Matter.

In this way, the U.S. and Israel confront a similar moral failing: Years of intentional disenfranchisement, abuse of and theft from a people in the name of another group’s supremacy — in one case, under the banner of whiteness, and in the other, Zionism. Both have gambled on their ability to suppress these peoples’ efforts to resist their oppression, through the means of mass incarceration, state violence, and legal discrimination. And both have seen that even the most brutal crackdowns cannot squelch the human spirit forever.

Black Americans has shown us, again and again, that they will not allow themselves to be made unreal — and this last year, many more people seemed to listen. For Black Americans who routinely face state violence, the murder of George Floyd was tragically unsurprising. Yet this particular death seemed to penetrate the larger American imagination, managing, somehow, to puncture the gloss of indifference with its sheer visceral force, its specificity. Floyd was seen as an individual, a human being, and his name became a movement. “Black Lives Matter” had a resurgence, thanks in part to the sudden recognition by white Americans of a particular Black life, and death.

Palestinians were quick to respond to the George Floyd movement, protesting in solidarity, drawing parallels between their own experiences of mass incarceration, militarized law enforcement, legal discrimination, knees on civilian necks. Floyd’s face decorated stretches of the Israeli barrier wall, alongside murals of Palestinians killed by Israeli police and soldiers, including Iyad Hallaq, an unarmed man with autism, shot on his way home from school. Floyd’s death also prompted discussions in the Palestinian and wider Arab communities about their own anti-Blackness. This internationalism is not new: For years, Palestinian activists have looked to the American civil rights movement, the South African struggle against apartheid, and others for inspiration. They have also offered their solidarity and support to movements abroad, including the Standing Rock protests and other efforts for Indigenous rights.

Perhaps something, this time, will be different. With the newfound skepticism of law enforcement and incarceration wrought by the George Floyd movement, many in the “woke” world seem to have found resonance with the scenes of Palestinian civilian protests throughout the territories and Israel, launching marches of their own around the globe. Perhaps, after a year in which the words “decolonization” and “intersectionality” have become memes, in which social media has become a streamlined highway for outrage and mobilization, this “clash” will be recognized at last for what it is: a fight for the Palestinian right to be human.

Such a shift would be a breakthrough: Just as the U.S. will remain haunted until Black lives are fully, truly, and equally valued, there can be no peace in Israel-Palestine until all the lives involved are reckoned with as human. Such a reckoning is understandably terrifying for nations built on the systematic denial of certain humanities, but there is no other way. And if the last year has taught us anything, it is that no odds can outmatch the individual’s need for dignity.

“The myths of self-defense” — Israel’s — “and both sides are becoming more and more penetrable,” Mohammed el-Kurd, whose family is facing forced displacement from their home in Sheikh Jarrah, said in a CNN interview this week. “People are being able to see through these myths and call an occupation for what it is and an aggressor for what it is.”

And perhaps, too, they will begin to see us.

#free palestine #gazaunderattack #palestinian lives matter #savesheikhjarrah #free gaza #save palestine #plm #black lives still matter #palestine #freepalestine

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perthshirecottage · 3 years ago

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I keep thinking about how differently T’challa and Peter grew up despite both being taken in by the Ravagers and the people they became. A lot of people are using this as an excuse to point out that this shows that Peter is a horrible person because look, all they did is change it to T’challa and suddenly all these people had wonderful lives! Yondu was a better father and Thanos learned the error of his ways and was also a better father! T’challa was space Robin Hood and helped people! The thing is that it’s not just one factor, one moment that literally changed the how everything changed. Yes, one moment was a springboard to change, but there were so many factors, so many little moments after that really and truly changed the course of history. It’s not a matter of who is the better person but it comes down to how each kid was brought into the Ravagers. It also makes a difference how they were raised before they were even abducted. And how they were raised after. All of these factors effect how the story unfolds. But the biggest factor is Yondu himself and how he, as the adult, chose to treat each of these kids. Some of this is speculation but it’s all based on evidence from the source material. I’m going to go through how each kid was raised so we can get to the bottom of how things turned out so differently.

Let’s start with T’challa.

T’challa was a kid who grew up with everything. He was a prince and therefore lacked for nothing. He was safe and had never had anything personally bad happen to him. He grew up in a palace with both of his parents and has not experienced loss. It’s good that he has never had to deal with these things but it means that he has felt more safe and comfortable in the world than Peter and T’challa has the confidence that kids brought up with all those comforts and safeties has.

T’challa is also specifically a prince. This means that T’challa is growing up with the absolute best tutors that money can buy. He has Wakandan tutors who are teaching about technology that is more advanced than other places in the world. He is taught about peaceful negotiating skills. T’challa grew up on diplomacy and learning what it meant to one day have to take responsibility for an entire country. And being a prince, the crown prince, it means that in the hierarchy of things the only people with more power than him are his parents. His parents have taught him to be humble and that he doesn’t have the right to lord that power over others That he is meant to serve his people and to take care of and love them. So he is kind and not a spoiled brat but it doesn’t change the fact that that kind of environment means that people treat T’challa with a certain amount of respect that is due to one in his position. T’challa expects people to listen to him. He expects people to respect him and to not push him to the side because this is how he was raised. Up until this point T’challa has not known loss and this will affect his initial encounter with the Ravagers.

And then comes the abduction. T’challa has just had an argument with his father. T’challa wants to go out and explore, to see the world. And suddenly T’challa is on space craft with real live aliens! This is so cool! He isn’t scared of all these strange looking aliens. In fact he thinks the whole thing is awesome. They haven’t hurt him or shown themselves to be a threat so he hasn’t had a reason to be scared. T’challa is looking around in wonder and awe and not the slightest bit intimidated. Yondu is upset that they got the wrong kid but he also sees a kid who was just abducted who isn’t scared, who is eloquent and talking about adventure. He is impressed by this kid and his fearlessness. So Yondu figures, hey, might as well give this kid a fun little adventure before I take him home, you know, to make up for this little mistake. And T’challa may be eloquent and have learned how talk to unreasonable people (I think it’s a natural skill T’challa has, but he was also taught to talk to people and that skill was nurtured in him) but he is still a kid who wants to go have some fun and not be burdened by his duties and responsibilities for awhile. So of course T’challa isn’t thinking about how his parents will be feeling when they wake up and see him gone. All T’challa wants is a good time and is thinking like the child he is. He will be home soon enough anyway.

And if Yondu gets attached and decides that he doesn’t want to return T’challa well, a little white lie might hurt for a bit but Yondu has always been a little selfish. And to make up for the lie, Yondu will treat T’challa really well, as if the boy were his own son. Yondu is caring and comforting when he tells T’challa that his whole family is dead and while it makes him uncomfortable to openly show his own caring side, it also eases Yondu’s guilt considerably as he hugs a sobbing T’challa. And to top it off he just found out what Ego was doing, and, well there’s no point in uprooting Peter Quill from his life cause Yondu isn’t working for that stupid planet anymore. He has T’challa and he doesn’t want any other kid. So T’challa is given a place of honor among the Ravagers as Yondu’s son. T’challa is listened to and given respect. T’challa is kind and calm and respectful and he keeps worming his way into Yondu’s heart. T’challa is well behaved and Yondu doesn’t even have to resort to threats to keep him in line. And T’challa trusts Yondu and talks to his father figure and works out any problems they have. They form a bond built from love, trust and respect. And Yondu protects T’challa from the rough crew. No one dares to offer up a harsh word towards T’challa because they all remember Yondu’s wrath the last time someone tried. T’challa was taught to fight on earth and Yondu is still impressed by how much T’challa knows and man that kid sure knows how to throw a punch. Yondu has so much respect early on and he has guilt about lying about T’challa’s family and all these factors affect their relationship as T’challa grows.

T’challa is raised by thieves so of course he becomes one himself. He was still young when he was taken (and it never feels like he was abducted. He was brought on an adventure and then offered a home when he lost his. The Ravagers are his family and the ship his home and there is nothing for him on earth but painful memories) so T’challa learns from the people who are raising him but he never loses the morals that were instilled in him from birth. So when T’challa gets a little older he starts to speak of the right thing to do and Yondu is touched by the words in a way he wouldn’t if he didn’t have to make up for so much red in his ledger. Which makes Yondu not want to listen. Yondu tries to ignore those thoughts of what he has done and he wants to continue going around stealing and living his life for himself and his crew as he has always done. He doesn’t want to change that much, not even for T’challa. But T’challa will not let up about the noble things they could be doing. And Yondu knows that it was a mistake to start out letting T’challa know he thought of him as a son so early in their relationship because when Yondu threatens to let the crew eat T’challa if he keeps going on about this nobility, T’challa simply laughs in his face. As if after all these years T’challa would actually believe that threat. As T’challa keeps talking about how they should be helping people, it upsets some of the crew. They don’t want T’challa and his morals in their ship and they don’t care if T’challa is Yondu’s son, the boy is trying to mutiny against their captain and they won’t stand for it! Yondu doesn’t take it well when Taser Face tries to throw T’challa out of an airlock. Yondu feels obligated to truly listen to T’challa after the whole fiasco. In the end Yondu tries to resist, but T’challa doesn’t let up and those words strike a nerve and Yondu dedicates his life to making up for those kids who were killed. He never does tell T’challa why his crew accidentally kidnapped him. Yondu knows he couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on T’challa’s face. Yondu is determined to be the best father he can be and he’s so glad he didn’t wait until it was too late.

And because T’challa and Yondu are on a crusade to help people, they specifically search out Thanos to have a talk about how crazy the man is starting to become. And it’s well over a decade before The Infinity War so Thanos isn’t quite as crazy as he will become and can still be reasoned with because someone got to him so early. (I still think this is a stretch cause the man was insane and you can’t reason with insane people but this is the only explanation I can come up with for why T’challa stopped Thanos with one conversation).

T’challa becomes such a big part of the Ravagers. He in fact becomes their leader in a way. Yondu is still the captain but the crew looks to T’challa as their moral compass. He helps to plan the heists. He figures out who is corrupt and that’s who they steal from. He figures out who needs money and he gives it them. When people ask for a name he remembers his noble birth and how he now lives among the heavens. And while he is not a king, or a prince, he is nobility and he answers Starlord. And so people spread tales of their savior and soon everyone in the galaxy has heard of Starlord.

And so T’challa grows up surrounded by love and support. He knows how to talk so people listen and this changes his dynamic with so many people and the galaxy’s destiny is changed.

Now to Peter. Peter is a kid from Missouri who lives in a small house and goes to public school and has absolutely nothing about him that makes him special. His mom works hard to provide for him but it’s just her because no one knows where Peter’s dad is. They don’t have much money but Meredith loves her son and he loves her. It doesn’t take the sting out when Peter sees other kids with their dads but Peter is grateful to have someone who cares. And then the person that Peter loves most, the person that his whole world revolves around is dying. Slowly and painfully. He has to watch her suffer for months, maybe years. Peter has to see his mom go from happy and healthy to withering away in a hospital bed. To see her mentally deteriorating and be completely helpless to stop it. Peter is suffering but he is still going to stick up for those who can’t fight back, like the poor frog those mean boys squished with a stick. His mom taught him to be kind and a good person, he just doesn’t know how to get people to listen to him. Peter has never been taught diplomacy and no one is going to listen to some skinny little kid who is vulnerable and a prime target for bullies.

And then Peter has to watch his mom die. Peter didn’t want to take his mom’s hand because he is scared and irrationally thought that if he didn’t take her hand, if he didn’t give her that permission to die, then she wouldn’t. He regretted it the moment her heart stopped and he would regret it until years later when he found a new family that helped him learn how to heal. Then Peter is shoved out of the room and everyone forgets about him and the grief and the fear and the guilt, it’s just too much and so Peter runs. He runs until he can’t and he falls to the ground sobbing.

And then comes the abduction. One moment Peter was on the ground and then suddenly he is on a spaceship, hurtling away from his home and his mom. Peter only needed to get away from that hospital room! He didn’t mean to truly leave! Everything feels too big and it’s completely overwhelming! And he is surrounded by large monsters who are scary looking and one of them is talking to him and he has blue skin and sharp teeth and everything is too much, too much and Peter screams! He screams and he sobs and he scrambles away from these terrifying creatures and he just wants his mom! He wants to go home! Where is his grandpa?! What is going on?! And then the creature threatens to let his crew eat him if he doesn’t stop making such a racket and Peter’s gaze catches those sharp teeth, gleaming, ready to tear a little boy’s flesh from his bones and he stops screaming, completely paralyzed by fear.

Yondu looks at this sniveling, snotty creature before him and he feels his ire rise. Stupid kid has only been on his ship a few minutes and he is already on Yondu’s nerves. So Yondu barks at the kid to shut up or the crew will eat him. The kid doesn’t stop crying but the screaming does stop so that’s a win in Yondu’s book. And there is a twinge of satisfaction when the men laugh at the whole scene. As if any of them would actually eat a child but it got the reaction Yondu wanted. The sooner this job is over the better. And then Yondu finds out that Ego has been killing his own children and while Yondu isn’t particularly fond of Quill, he is still a child and Yondu won’t be a part of killing another kid. There’s enough red in his ledger as it is. Anyway, Quill is small, he can fit in places adults can’t, is good for thieving. Yondu will make more money keeping the kid in the long run.

Peter is taught how to steal, how to fly, how to shoot. Peter is a rambunctious child who has a plethora of issues and loss and has to navigate the waters of grief by himself. No one holds him as he cries for the loss of his mother, his grandpa, his planet. There are no hugs or words of comfort. Just glares and sneers for a weak kid who is terrified of all the scary aliens he is now stuck with. Yondu has offered a few pats on the shoulder when Peter is feeling especially low, and sometimes Yondu will sit in companionable silence when no one else is around. Yondu keeps the crew from eating him (and Peter never grows out of this fear, not really) but Yondu doesn’t do a thing about the harsh looks and the harsher words. And whenever a Ravager takes a swing at Peter, Yondu allows it since it will toughen him up. And Peter’s whole world has crashed down around his ears and he has no support and whenever he plucks up the courage, Peter does what he can to cause some chaos for these aliens that have taken him from his home. While there is a part of Peter that doesn’t want to return to a home that no longer has his mom, Peter can’t forget that the Ravagers forced him into this life, and he is their prisoner. When he is old enough to escape Peter has been gone for so long that he doesn’t see any point in going back. All that’s left for him on earth are painful memories. So Peter learns to get good at stealing so that he can earn his keep and not end up as dinner. He learns how to protect his belongings so no one takes it. He learns how to be wily and to use his wits to fight and escape from those who are bigger and stronger than he is. He learns to look out for himself first and foremost, because no one else is going to. Peter sticks with the Ravagers because he has no where else to go. No one recognizes him besides a Nova Corp officer. No one knows his name because Peter has been lost in the shuffle as another Ravager. One day the Ravagers are hired for a huge score and Peter decides that this is the one that’s big enough that he can finally strike out on his own. People will know his name and his mom’s legacy of her Starlord will live on. And if Peter’s betraying the Ravagers, oh well, it’s not like they have ever given him a reason to be loyal to them anyway. And this does turn out to be the big score Peter was looking for, but it didn’t come in the form of money. Peter found the family he had been so desperately longing for since his mom died.

Yondu teaches the kid the basics. How to steal, and shoot, and fly. Yondu also teaches the kid how to fight because it’s rough out there and he needs to be able to defend himself. The kid has no idea how to throw a punch or block one, so Yondu lets the crew take some swings at the kid because man, if that kid doesn’t learn to fight then he’s as good as dead. And Yondu reminds the kid that he is protecting him from a crew that wants to eat him. At first it’s a way to keep Quill in line when the kid does something stupid (Peter does a lot of stupid stuff and why can’t the kid just behave?) but it eventually stops being a threat and becomes an inside joke between the two of them. As Peter gets faster and stronger and more skilled and less weepy and fearful, Yondu starts taking a liking to him. He doesn’t really let on because why should Yondu make himself uncomfortable by talking about feelings, he doesn’t owe Peter anything since Yondu already saved the kid’s life by not giving him to Ego. If anything, Peter is indebted to him whether he knows it or not. Yondu knows, deep down that he isn’t talking care of Quill the way the kid deserves but Yondu can’t just give the kid up (Yondu’s always been a little selfish). And nothing forces Yondu to confront his own feelings and own up to his mistakes until they’re about to blow up a planet and Peter’s about to die and this is Yondu’s last chance to make up for the way he treated Peter and what he did to those other poor kids that Ego killed. So Yondu finally steps up and becomes the father he should have been all along. He just wishes he hadn’t waited until it was too late.

In conclusion, the changes that were made were not simply from it being T’challa instead of Peter. It was so many factors. It was the initial introduction to the Ravagers, where T’challa wanted an adventure and got one. He wanted to go with the Ravagers and so it was fun and it was kind of his friends to let him stay after his family died. For Peter he had just watched his mom died and was emotionally vulnerable and the entire abduction actually felt like an abduction. It was traumatizing and nothing about it was fun. Yondu actively chose T’challa because the boy actually had a home to go back to. Yondu got stuck with Peter so the boy wouldn’t be murdered. Yondu had guilt about lying to T’challa and something to cause him to repent and treat T’challa better. Yondu could keep himself emotionally distant since he could reassure himself that he saved Peter’s life and didn’t owe the kid anything. T’challa was never given a reason to fear the Ravagers and so felt he could speak freely about his beliefs and change Yondu’s and the other’s minds. Peter spent his whole life worrying that he would mess up too big and be eaten so he tried no to bring too much ire on himself. T’challa was calm and had an extensive education and impressed Yondu from their first meeting. T’challa was respected and so therefore respected those who were raising him. Peter was brought in during the worst day of his life and already emotionally charged and a grieving kid was not something the Ravagers wanted to deal with. And Peter wasn’t equipped in anyway for the Ravager lifestyle and had to sink or float and I doubt anyone was that understanding when he floundered. Peter was a terrified and confused kid who sometimes acted up with his abductors.

Peter and T’challa were raised by the same person but they were also raised in completely different environments. It’s not fair to place of the weight of how either child turned out on their shoulders. They were children who had to deal with the world they were literally abducted into. And you can see that Yondu specifically treated T’challa differently than he ever did Peter. And it’s not fair to say it’s because T’challa was simply a better person because Yondu was the adult in the situation. They were children and they had no say in how they were raised. Yondu was the one who decided to keep them both. He was also the one who decided treat T’challa better. In gotg vol 2, Yondu was correct when he said he ‘didn’t do any of it right’. Yondu may have come to love Peter, but at the end of the day, Yondu was abusive towards Peter. Yondu wasn’t given an incentive to change his ways until the very end when he had to choose between Peter’s life and his own. It doesn’t mean that Yondu and Peter didn’t love each other in their own way. Yondu still raised Peter and took care of him, but it is canon that Yondu beat Peter and spent Peter’s whole life hanging the threat of being eaten over his head. Yondu wasn’t obvious in the ways he looked out for Peter. Yondu kept the Ravagers from killing him on several occasions, but Yondu never let Peter know he was protecting him until the last possible minute. In What If…there is not a single implication that Yondu ever threatened T’challa’s life or beat him or any of the other crap that happened to Peter. And gotg happened 26 years after Peter was abducted while the events of What If happened only 20 years later. So in far less time T’challa was able to accomplish more because he was better adjusted not because he was a better person. The whole conversation about Peter getting into a fight with some boys because he was protecting a frog shows his kindness and how he wants to defend those who can’t defend themselves. But Peter was raised in a place where he had to take care of himself because even in his 30s he was being threatened by Yondu (remember after Yondu pulled Peter and Gamora out of space and beat Peter up and pointed his arrow at Peter’s neck? Yeah that’s a pretty big threat and Peter isn’t surprised by it. Like this kind of treatment is normal). No one was looking out for Peter so he had to learn to survive his abuse and look after himself because he couldn’t count on anyone else until he met the rest of the Guardians. And T’challa was treated with worry and care. He was given support and understanding. T’challa has had a family since the moment that Ravager ship picked him up. The differences between these two stories has nothing to do with who was abducted, but with the how and why.

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weasleydream · 3 years ago

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i’ll never fall - Ginny x reader

I’m so so sorry that it’s so late! I wrote this for @pregnant-piggy ‘s writing challenge but I got a bit too inspired, I haven’t written that much in so long! Once again, congrats for 2k love <3

My prompts were: “Who do you see when you look at me?” ; “I will never forgive myself for the things I’ve done.” ; and “And you are sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re in love with them?”

Also, once again I think I messed with timeline

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

Masterlist

If we were being picky, we could say that all of this began the day Tom Riddle was born. However, this specific point in the history of the wizarding world was the beginning of so many stories that no one could count them all, and mine was complicated enough without mixing them: that’s why we’re going to say that it all began the day I realized I had been manipulated.

_ _ _

It was as if nature itself knew what was coming. If the first of September was usually a bright day, the sun we had been hoping for was a long lost memory erased by the incessant rain. Somehow, even the traditional babblings on platform 9¾ were missing, replaced by parents’ doubts and students’ fears. Was really going to Hogwarts in this year of 1997 a good idea? Dumbledore’s death had been a strong hit to everyone, and now that we knew Snape would be at the head of the school, no one was reassured. Not even Molly Weasley who was usually so valiant. On the platform, with one hand on Ginny’s back and one hand on mine, she seemed as nervous as everyone else, and the fact that she couldn’t look away from Arthur for more than three seconds was the proof we didn’t need.

I remembered perfectly each first of September since I had received my Hogwarts letter. It was five years ago, and I was sure the view of the red train had never provoked such a wave of panic in me before. I glanced at Ginny; she was looking at me, her face closed in an attempt to hide what she was feeling and what she was fearing. A discreet nod confirmed what I already knew: she was as afraid as I was. Somewhere on our left, a voice said both our names, and we turned around to greet Neville. He hadn’t even needed to use a strong voice. He was pushing his cart on which his bags were stacked. On the top of the pile was sitting proudly a little plant.

“Mimbulus mimbletonia?” I asked, and he nodded quietly.

The locomotive whistled and we headed to the nearest door, after having looked away from Ginny and her parents exchanging a quick hug. Most of the compartments were empty, which seemed strange as we had never seen such a small amount of students in the train. Neville led us to the very last compartment where Luna was waiting for us. She said hello, but even her bright personality seemed altered. I really didn’t like this, and it was only the beginning.

Half an hour after the beginning of the journey, I left the compartment to find my other group of friends. Friends was maybe a big word: in fact the only one I got along pretty well with was Zillah. She was a Hufflepuff and I knew her since we were five or six. Our fathers had worked together for a while in a muggle factory when they were younger, hers because he was a muggle and mine because he and my mother had left the wizarding world when He-who-must-not-be-named had risen the first time. Zillah greeted me with a small smile, and one or two other heads looked up to me. I identified a Slytherin guy in the corner opposite to mine but that didn’t surprise me, Zillah was the kind of person that didn’t let such things as houses determine who she loved.

“You didn’t give me a lot of news,” she said when I sat next to her, which forced another girl to shift to the left.

“I know, I just… I was busy.” I looked around quickly, checking that no one was listening to us. The four other persons that were here seemed to be chatting, and only now did I realize that the atmosphere was less heavy than with Ginny, Neville and Luna. Anyways, I decided it was safe enough for me to speak. “You know, with that stuff about my parents…” I added in a lower tone.

Zillah moved closer to me.

“And? Did you find anything?”

“Nothing conclusive. I guess that’s a good sign.”

Zillah nodded and recovered her previous position. She knew what I was talking about: since a few weeks before the beginning of the summer, my main preoccupation was to find out if my parents - and the rest of my family - were or had been death eaters. A lot of old rumours had resurfaced, and my parents, along with one of my aunts and her half-brother, were suspected to belong to the dark side. I had spent the summer looking for proof, investigating, and I now thought that at least my mother wasn’t guilty of what she was accused of. I still had a doubt about my aunt’s half-brother, but we weren’t blood related, so I had decided it wasn’t my problem, and something was off with my father.

“I guess you’re relieved,” suddenly commented Zillah. “Now you’ll stop hiding it from your friends.” Indeed, Luna, Neville and even Ginny didn’t know anything about it, and it had been especially hard to hide during the last two weeks that I had spent at the burrow. Ginny obviously knew there was something off with me and had asked me about it several times, but I didn’t want her to know that, not when Neville had made some comments that had persuaded me I was suspected too. “You don’t seem relieved, though.” she added with a suspicious look. “Are you sure you didn’t find anything conclusive?”

“There’s maybe something about my father,” I mumbled, “but I don’t know what to think about it. Something he did a year or so before You-know-who’s fall that makes me think… Well, it makes me think maybe there’s a possibility that he’s killed a muggle family.”

“What?” Zillah’s voice was louder than expected, and the conversations in the compartment stopped briefly. “Why would he have done something like this?” she asked more quietly when chatters filled the compartment again. “I thought he was clean?”

“I told you I don’t know what to think about it… Something’s strange, but I don’t know what.”

Zillah nodded but stayed silent. She didn’t seem that surprised anymore, as if it was something she had been suspecting for a while. It created a big contrast between us because I was still deeply shaken by the news. Learning that your father might be the assassin of an innocent family wasn’t something you could accept easily. The conversations in the compartment stopped briefly, and I wondered why until I noticed a prefect’s head that had appeared through the glass. It was a girl from Ravenclaw, and she glanced briefly at us before walking away.

“Do you think she’s looking for You-know-who?” guffawed the Slytherin guy.

Everyone in the compartment chuckled, Zillah included. However, it wasn’t the kind of subject that made me laugh, and I suddenly felt really out of place among these people. I hastily saluted Zillah and left the compartment. I took a few steps just to be out of their sight, and then I stopped, asking myself if I really wanted to go back to Ginny, Neville and Luna. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, Ginny was the person I was the closest to in the school, but she was really friends with Luna and Neville, and she shared way more with them than with me. If Luna was kind to everyone and me included, Neville had often shown restraint with me, without mentioning the few times I had caught him becoming suddenly very silent as soon as I had stepped in the same room as him. Finally, I decided going back to their compartment was better than spending the rest of the journey standing between two glass doors.

“- sorry he was ever born. Harry said it was him who killed Dumbledore, he’s not going to get away with it that easily, trust me.”

It was Ginny who was talking, and she didn’t stop when I opened the door. She just shifted to the left to make some room for me, and I sat after having made sure that the door was well closed. Making that kind of comment in a train crowded with people whose intentions weren’t all clear could be very dangerous.

“And how do you want to proceed?” Asked Luna. “Don’t you think he’ll think some people are thinking like this?”

“We don’t care,” said Neville. “He’ll pay for what he has done.”

“If any of you has an idea, feel free to suggest it. That goes for you too, Y/N, okay?”

I nodded, but a feeling of uneasiness had invaded me. Ginny looked at me with a raised eyebrow, asking me silently what was in my mind.

“If Snape is at the head of Hogwarts… don’t you think he’ll ask other death eaters to come with him?” A silence greeted my question. “Of course it doesn’t mean I won’t help you!” I added precipitously, “Just that we should be really careful. I’m not sure we know exactly what’s coming, that’s all.”

“You’re right,” said Neville. “But death eaters or not, everyone who throws a spanner in our work is going to have to face us.”

_ _ _

No matter how hard I had tried to convince myself that Hogwarts would be extremely different from before, the sight of the castle took a severe toll on me. The atmosphere reminded me a bit of the one that had enveloped us when Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban: full of fear and Dementors in the sky and around the park. It didn’t look like the safest place on earth anymore, that was for sure.

It was in silence that all the students that were in the train joined the castle. I was next to Ginny; Neville and Luna were just behind and I could see Zillah’s head a few meters in front of us. It didn’t take a long time to realize that the fears I had expressed before were founded: at each side of the entrance door were three people, all dressed in black, with a severe expression and a very straight posture. A whisper ran through the crowd of students; were they death eaters? The answer came to us in the form of a shout from a massive man.

“Shut up and move!”

From the corner of the eye, I saw Ginny stiffening and glaring at the guy who had just yelled. She had never looked as dangerous as right now, and I knew better than to think that it was an appearance.

“Ginny!” I hissed as quietly as possible. “Stop this!”

“But he’s-”

“I know!” Of course I had recognized Amycus Carrow, who had tried his best to torture Ginny only a few months ago. If he had failed, it was just because Ginny had drunk some Felix Felicis before the battle of the Astronomy tower. “But if you don’t want them to show what they are capable of, you’ll have to keep it cool until we’re in the dorm.”

She sighed loudly and nodded. If this time I had adopted the voice of reason, it didn’t mean that I wanted to stay here longer than necessitated, so I picked up the pace to walk past the death eaters. The sigh of relief I wanted to breathe when they would be out of sight stayed blocked in my throat, though: people all dressed in black were standing at regular intervals and this, on each side of the corridor. The silence was heavier in the inside of the castle; it was as if, without being clearly told, everyone had understood that staying quiet was for the best. Only the sound of our feet on the stones could be heard, and it was in this tense atmosphere that we arrived in the Great Hall.

The four main tables were still here and still the same. It was naturally that I followed Ginny to the Gryffindor table and took place next to her; and only when Neville was sitting in front of us while Luna was joining her place did I realize that the professors’ table was way smaller than before. A few more death eaters were standing in a corner, but Snape’s presence at the exact place Dumbledore used to stand at was the reason everyone was looking in this direction without a word.

“Look at him…” murmured Neville, which caused him to deal with some terrified looks.

Snape hadn’t even pronounced anything yet that he had already terrorized half of the school. Then his voice thundered and repercuted between the naked walls and the once magical roof that was now devoid of stars and colorful banners.

“Things have changed, and they will keep changing.” He paused and his eyes wandered amongst the students. I could have sworn his gaze had stopped on us, and according to the shiver that shook the girl next to me, it wasn’t just an impression. “From now on, the school is mine, and the rules you will follow are mine. Each breach of the rules will cost you a price much higher than a few house points. Any attempt to rebel will be severely punished. I also suggest you to remain in the ranks, or else the consequences could be unfortunate.”

As soon as the echo of his voice disappeared, Snape turned heels and sat in the central seat of the table. He lifted his hand and the doors opened; a seemingly exhausted professor McGonagall was walking in front of a bunch of terrified first years, and to the sound of their steps added weak sobs. When she walked past us, McGonagall glanced quickly in our direction, and from the corner of the eye I saw Ginny nodding imperceptibly. When she finally reached the single wooden stool that had gone unnoticed until then, it was with a firm voice that she shouted the name of the first student. It was as if she was trying her best to ignore the fact that Hogwarts had become the most dangerous place for us all, or maybe to show us that we weren’t alone in this.

The dinner - because it was hard to call this a feast - was conducted expeditiously and the first students to leave the great hall didn’t stay more than twenty minutes. Almost an hour and a half after our arrival, Snape’s watch dogs forced the remaining students to leave the great hall and to join the common rooms. A frightening silence was reigning everywhere in the castle, and the cosy common room of the Gryffindor house wasn’t exception. A very few people were occupying the sofas around the chimney, there wasn’t any first year left, and most of the students following us directly took the direction of the stairs leading to the dorms. Neville saluted us quite darkly and disappeared too.

“I didn’t think it would be so… the way it is.” I whispered as Ginny and I were sitting around a table in the corner of the room. “I remember the day we first entered the great hall… All these terrified kids, it’s awful. They’ll have to pay.”

“I agree. It’s a good thing that a few members of Dumbledore's army are still here, we’ll need as much help as we can get. We’ll have to-”

Ginny suddenly stopped and jumped on her feet, glaring at some point behind my back. I got up too, on the verge of asking what was happening, but the noise that echoed gave me the answer. Amycus Carrow and a woman that looked just like him had barged in, and they were now barking on the third years that were on the sofas. When one of them muttered that they had no right to come here, the woman drew her wand and pointed it between the guy’s eyes. Completely terrified, the latter followed his friend without another word. Understanding that it was useless and dangerous to provoke them at the moment, I went around the table and grabbed Ginny’s wrist. We took the direction of the stairs and we had almost disappeared behind the stone when we both saw it. Amycus Carrow had just nodded at me with a polite smile on the lips. Ginny’s arm moved quickly and a second later, she was shutting the door between us.

_ _ _

“The Weasley girl still doesn't want to talk to you?” asked Zillah with her mouth half full of bread as I was sitting next to her.

This had become the usual greeting she gave me each morning since I had camped in front of the Hufflepuff common room’s door, just after this thing with Amycus two weeks ago. Ginny had refused to talk to me since then, not even giving me a chance to explain, and of course the next morning Neville’s glares had added to hers. Even Luna didn’t look at me with her natural kindness anymore. Zillah had seemed very surprised when she had seen me the next morning; because I had spent the night on the hard floor of the corridor or because no one had caught me, I wasn’t sure. Still, she was now the friend I seemed to have in this castle.

“No, still not.”

“I think she needs time. I mean, she thinks you’re getting friendly with a death eater. You told me it’s the one who tried to torture her last year, right?”

I hummed and Zillah shrugged.

“Then I understand why she’s upset.” she paused to pat my shoulder. “Maybe she’ll even come to you first, who knows?”

“I hope so…”

Then a silence took place. My eyes were fixed on Ginny who was talking with Neville and Luna. The three of them were isolated from the rest of the Gryffindor that were in the great hall for breakfast, which wasn’t a lot. It was clear that their attitude was hiding something fishy with them.

“Are they preparing something?” suddenly asked Zillah. She was looking in the same direction as me and had a reprobatory look on her face.

“Probably, yes. They want to defend the castle,” I said before shaking my head. “I hope they’ll be prudent, it would kill Molly if something happened to her.”

“Yes, it looks like Ginny and her mother are really close to each other.”

I glanced at Zillah, surprised that she knew so much about Molly. As far as I knew, she had never talked to a Weasley. But my interrogations were cut short when an altercation burst on the other side of the great hall. Neville was standing up to one of Snape’s friends, and he was hiding a young girl behind him, probably a first year. Luna slipped underneath the table and grabbed the girl’s hand, leading her outside while Ginny was trying to calm Neville down. Finally, the silence came back when he agreed to follow her, and they disappeared behind the huge door.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t scream in their ears until they listen to you.” Zillah paused the time to let Snape walk to the professors’ table before getting closer to me. “I mean, your side of the street is clean, right? It’s not your fault if Amycus is weird.” I shrugged, trying to find the good words to explain why I had been waiting for two weeks instead of grasping the nettles. “Unless you think you have a reason to blame yourself, of course…” She finished with an interrogative look.

“Well… One of her brothers has been badly hurt by Fenrir Greyback, and his wedding has been ruined by death eaters. Another of his brothers was poisoned last year because of Malfoy. She has more reasons to hate the death eaters than anyone else and… I still don’t know what happened with my father, and I have even more doubts since this thing with Carrow... I just feel like it’s not right to stay by her side if I’m not sure that my father’s innocent, you know?”

Zillah nodded.

“I think you’re right, you can’t risk her hating you for nothing,” she conceded. “But how will you find the answers you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know.” I grumbled, before slamming my fist on the table. “It’s so unfair! What the hell is happening? Why does it have to be happening to me?”

“Relax Y/N, I’m not sure you want to make a scene in the middle of the great hall.” Zillah wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “You know you’re not alone, right? Whatever happens with Ginny and the others, I’m still with you.”

_ _ _

It was so unexpected that it took a few seconds for me to process what I had just heard. I was walking in the corridors somewhere near the library when three voices stopped me dead in my tracks. The voices were coming from behind the door that was just in front of me, belonging to three men I had never heard before even though they were obviously part of Snape’s watch dogs. At first, the voices were too low and all I could hear was a blur of unidentified sounds. But as soon as my ears were used to the muffled words, I realized they were talking about a particularly severe punishment and I had the feeling that I knew who was the target.

“ - couldn’t get them yet. Seems like the director is nervous about this and we all know how he can be when he’s not satisfied. He says it may be for today.”

“Maybe, but the fuckers are well organized, and we can’t just take them like this. The seniors won’t let us and we can’t afford to have the Order in our way.”

“The third year we’ve interrogated earlier said they were preparing their things in a special room in the castle, the room of requirements I think he said. Seventh floor. We can take a shot.”

“Never heard of this before, you sure he didn’t lie to you?”

“Trust me, he knew better than that.”

The first who had talked said something else, but I didn’t hear it. I had taken a few steps back and my brain was almost burning: how could I avoid Ginny and the others getting caught? I knew what was going to happen if evidences were found, I myself had paid full price for defending a bunch of terrified second years in front of Alecto Carrow and the sanction reserved for Ginny, Neville and Luna oughted to be even worse.

The wooden door suddenly opened, leaving me defenseless in front of three death eaters that drew their wands as in one. I was so terrified that my brain, which was so fast only a few seconds ago, seemed to be freezing along with the blood in my veins.

“I suggest that you find a good excuse for listening to us, or I can promise you you’ll regret it.” threatened a tall and thin man, whose face seemed to be the copy of a rat’s.

“I know what they’re going to do and where I can tell you if you want.” I blurted out before holding my breath, praying that they would be convinced.

The three guys exchanged looks, and the one on the left seemed dangerously sceptical. Finally, the rat-faced guy nodded and lifted an eyebrow.

“It’s for soon, in the potions classroom.” I started, trying my best to keep control of my breath. “I believe they want to make it explode, I’ve seen them gathering all sorts of forbidden products. I think they’re already there, but-”

“You better be telling the truth.”

With that, the three men left precipitously and as soon as their bodies had disappeared from my sight, I turned tails and ran in the other direction. I needed to get to Ginny as soon as possible to warn her not to do whatever she had in mind. By the time I had gotten to the seventh floor, my legs were burning and my lungs felt like they were on the verge of exploding. Without losing a second, I began pacing to make the door appear but someone’s arrival interrupted me.

“You here? Get out of here, you traitor!”

It was Seamus, and he rolled up his sleeve as if to address his words.

“Seamus!” I exclaimed, which definitely surprised him. “I need you to tell Ginny to stop whatever she’s preparing. She’s in danger, you hear me? In danger! Someone denounced her to Snape and he knows she’s here with Neville, Luna and whoever helps them. I led the death eaters off the scent but it won’t be enough, tell them, okay?”

And with that, I left as quickly as I had come, afraid that the wrong person could see me here and guess what had happened. I glanced in my back one last time - Seamus was still looking at me, seemingly very confused, but he nodded silently before being hidden by the wall. I only managed to join the fifth floor when a voice shouted loudly.

“You! Stop!”

I had been caught.

The rat-faced guy grabbed my arm, his fingers tightening me so tightly that it felt like he was touching my bones. He was almost growling, the sound coming from the depth of his throat and terrifying me as much as a snarling wolf would have. The man, Marcus as it seemed since one of his friends called him when he joined us, abruptly pulled my arm to make me walk behind him. His pace was quick and determined, and his jaw tightly clenched. As far as I could see, he was furious, and the little hope I had left vanished. I didn’t even know if I would make it out alive.

The three men brought me to an empty classroom that I was positive I had never been in before. The tables were all covered in a thick layer of dust, some of them were broken and so were the chairs. There was no window, only one door and the latter closed quietly behind us. I had the intuition that it wouldn’t open that easily, and definitely not soon.

It was dark in there, but not enough to be blind. That made me realize that the walls had a certain number of cracks, and for a second I thought of screaming with all the breath in my lungs. Marcus probably had the same idea at the same time; before I could do anything, he cast a silencing spell on me.

“This way, we’re sure we won’t be bothered.” he whispered with a twisted smile.

My heart began to beat at a terrible pace, and the fact that I was trying to scream so loud without even producing a whimper made me feel so defenseless that I never tried to protect myself. I just waited for the punishment, knees getting numb on the stone floor, expecting the pain without receiving it. It looked like it wasn’t what Marcus wanted; he tried to get me to react, maybe even attack him in what we both knew would be a desperate and useless attempt to escape; he pushed me before putting me back on my knees, insulted me, described me all he would do to me, all he wanted to do to Ginny, but I didn’t want to give him satisfaction. I wanted to focus on something else than the torture I was about to suffer, and all I found was to imagine Ginny swooping in to save me and telling me she wasn’t mad anymore.

However, it wasn’t Ginny’s voice that I heard when the first Cruciatus spell hit me, and it wasn’t hers either that I heard during the unending time that the punishment lasted.

_ _ _

“Y/N? Y/N?”

The voice seemed to come from a dream, muffled as if I had cotton in the ears, distant and soothing.

“Y/N!”

It suddenly became louder, more defined, and with the proximity I heard something else in this voice. Something that wasn’t soothing, it was the contrary; it was anxious and stressful, not very steady but not shaking either. More importantly, it was Ginny’s voice.

I opened my eyes, and it took a moment to remember where I was. The classroom. I could see the tables that had been moved around me, and I could even see the walls which was impossible before. A tall silhouette was getting close to me, someone that I couldn’t identify because the door was open behind them and there was too much light. The person that was now next to me kneeled and Ginny’s features appeared. She seemed disturbed, sad too.

“She’s awake!” she shouted above her shoulder, which made me screech. My head was on the verge of exploding. “Come on,” she added more softly as her eyes were on me again. “We’ll bring you somewhere safe.”

I nodded and let her and Neville, who had gotten in too, lift me to put me back on my feet. My legs had never felt so heavy and devoid of strength, I was nothing more than a dead weight as the two carried me out of this hell. As we got closer to the door, I identified three more persons; Zillah was standing next to Luna, and Seamus had taken a step forward to help Ginny. The latter shook her head and I felt her grip on my waist tightening.

The way to the room of requirements - I had heard Neville mentioning it, so I had supposed it was our destination - was essentially composed of stairs, and no matter how hard I tried to help Neville and Ginny, there wasn’t an ounce of energy left in my body. Every single cell was terribly painful, I had never suffered so much in my life before.

We finally reached a corridor of the seventh floor, the same in which I had stumbled upon Seamus earlier - how long I didn’t know though, it was another question I would have to ask. A huge door appeared and Ginny half carried me inside. She helped me reach a makeshift bed on the floor, and as soon as my head touched the fabric, my eyes closed.

And they stayed closed for a while, or so I supposed when I woke up. The room was no longer almost empty, it was more looking like an anthill now that all the beds and hammocks were occupied. But it wasn’t exactly time for sleeping; all the conversations were forming a soft buzzing somehow reassuring. Despite my sore body, I sat up and took a better look around me. The room wasn’t huge, maybe a bit bigger than a large classroom, not much more. The beds were in fact makeshift mattresses with colorful blankets, and the hammocks that were as colorful were suspended to the walls. There were also two banners hanging from the wall in front of the door; one for Gryffindor and one for Ravenclaw.

“It’s because we only have Gryffindors and Ravenclaws here,” said Ginny as she arrived from behind me with a water bottle. She handed it to me and I glanced to thank her before drinking avidly. “Though we probably will have to add another, your friend Zillah is here too. Very curious, maybe even too much.” she frowned before shaking her head. “But it’s not important. Are you feeling better?”

Ginny waited patiently as I was finishing the water. The sips I took were now longer and I was slower for a very good reason: I didn’t know what to say. Ginny wasn’t stupid though, and she gestured toward two Ravenclaw girls that I didn’t know. They nodded and left, leaving the two of us alone in this corner of the room.

“Y/N, I need you to tell me how you’re feeling.”

I could have answered a lot of things, like hungry, cold, afraid, sore… It was all true. Yet now Ginny was next to me, caring for me, and there was only one answer that seemed correct.

“Safe,” I murmured.

“You are now.” she whispered back. “We’ll make them pay, you can trust me.”

I nodded. The thought was somewhat soothing, but I couldn’t focus on that. It seemed strange that after such a long time spent seemingly hating me, at least avoiding me, Ginny was now sitting next to me, bringing me water and promising she would seek vengeance for me.

“Ginny, who do you see when you look at me?”

She looked up to me, seemingly surprised.

“I see one of my best friends that has been tortured to protect me. I know, Seamus told me,” she added before I could say anything. “I don’t see a traitor or an enemy, if that’s what you were asking. I’ve never seen a traitor or an enemy. Just… Someone I didn’t trust enough, I guess.”

I looked away, slightly hurt. I would have trusted her with my life, even before all of this. Knowing that it wasn’t mutual was something I would have a hard time to accept.

“Y/N, trust me, I’ll never forgive myself for the things I’ve done to you. I shouldn’t have been so mefiant, I should have given you a chance to explain.”

“Yes, you should have.”

Ginny looked away, something that looked a lot like regret painted all over her face. It was rare to see her displaying her deepest emotions, it caught me by surprise and it was without thinking that I wrapped my arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t worry, you trust me now, right? That’s all that matters.”

Ginny nodded and stared at me with an interrogative look.

“Can I ask you something?” She didn’t wait for my answer and continued. “Why didn’t you try to explain? Actually, what happened that day? Why was Carrow so… nice with you?”

“I don’t know why,” I mumbled. “I found it as strange as you. As for why I didn’t explain, it’s… it’s complicated, Ginny.”

“I think I can understand.”

There was no way I could avoid this discussion, that was clear. So I sighed and told her everything about all the research I had gone through, why I suspected my father to be a murderer, why I had felt like I didn’t have the right to be her friend. Ginny stayed silent for a while, and I didn’t have any idea on what her reaction would be. Her face was closed, she was looking at some point in the opposite corner of the room, where Zillah was talking with Luna and another Ravenclaw girl.

“And what was Zillah’s reaction when you told her you didn’t feel like you could be my friend?”

I hesitated before answering. The question was weird, it was not really what I was expecting but Ginny seemed to be deep in her thoughts.

“She said that I was right, I shouldn’t talk to you before being sure my father was innocent. Why?”

“You don’t find it strange that she didn’t advise you the contrary? To come to me and try to explain?”

“I… don’t know.” I hesitated again. “Ginny, what are you thinking about?”

“You noticed that Zillah was there when we found you in the classroom, earlier?” I nodded. Yes, I had seen her, even though I wasn’t expecting her when it was Ginny, Neville, Luna and Seamus that she was accompanying. “No one told her what you had done, and she wasn’t with you before. She’s the one who led us to you. How did she know?”

“Ginny… I know where this is going, but you’re wrong. Zillah’s my friend, and she didn’t even know what I was going to do! I was alone when I heard their conversation and I didn’t see her afterward.”

“I’m not talking about this.” Ginny’s voice was calm, and it was firmly that she grabbed my wrist to address her words. “Y/N, I’m not saying she denounced you to the death eaters. I’m saying she denounced us to them, and you just happened to hear them.”

“But how would she-”

I suddenly stopped because the question was useless. I knew how she had learnt about what Ginny, Neville and the others were preparing. Something as burning as acid slowly crept in my veins; it was guilt, because I was the one who had told her.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but it looks like you gave your trust to the wrong person.”

“Ginny, I’m- I’m sorry, if I had been-”

“It’s not your fault. I promise she too will pay for hurting you.”

Ginny was now infuriated; if her face was stoic, her eyes said it all for her.

_ _ _

“Zillah?” repeated Luna. “I knew I shouldn’t have warned her about the Wrackspurts. She deserves to have her brain go fuzzy.”

“Brain fuzzy or not, at least we know who the traitor is.” added Ginny. “Now, we have to confront her.”

“But we have no proof,” interjected Neville. “We’re not sure that she’s really the one who ratted us out, maybe she found us just because she was looking for Y/N. As for the ‘you shouldn��t talk to Ginny thing’, it’s not a secret that she doesn’t like us, maybe she just wanted to keep Y/N for herself.”

“It can’t be a coincidence,” said Ginny. “And I refuse to let her get out of this just because we’re not sure.”

“You’re making it personal.”

“Of course I’m making it personal!” exploded Ginny. “You saw Y/N too, didn’t you? You helped me carry her because she had been tortured so much that she couldn’t even walk! How can I make it anything else than personal?”

Seeing them talking about me as if I wasn’t here was getting annoying, so I just interrupted them. It caused me to deal with a murderous look that disappeared as soon as Ginny realized it was me.

“Neville’s right, we can’t do anything as long as we’re not sure. And it’s not by sitting here that you’ll find the proof you’re looking for,” I added before Ginny could interrupt me. “Maybe we should stop talking and begin searching.”

“You’re right,” she conceded. “Neville, Luna, you should start asking people about Zillah, but only people we trust, okay?”

Neville rolled his eyes, either because of the obvious recommendation or because Ginny had taken her time to admit he was right, but he still got up and followed Luna. As for me, I ignored Ginny’s piercing eyes when she asked me to follow her out of the room of requirements. We both stayed silent for a while: everytime one of us wanted to say something, someone stepped in the corridor we were in and silence was never broken.

“I know what you’re doing.” Finally said Ginny as we were heading to the library. She brushed aside my innocent face and continued. “I think you’re still hoping that she’s innocent.” It was useless to deny it; of course I didn’t want Ginny to be right, so instead of trying to find excuses, I shrugged. “I get it that it’s hard for you Y/N, placing your trust in the wrong person is… Well, it’s not very pleasant. But you have people you can trust around you, you have real friends. You have me.”

“Thank you Ginny. I- I needed to hear that.”

She nodded and accelerated a bit to open the library’s door in front of me.

“You didn’t tell me what we’re doing here,” I murmured as I was following her through the shelves until we stumbled upon Madam Pince.

“Can we go to the restricted section? It’s important.”

Madam Pince simply nodded and Ginny gestured to me to follow her.

“Since when can we go to the restricted section without any authorization?” I asked, flabbergasted.

“We have one, Madam Pince just allowed us, didn’t she?” Ginny glanced at me with an amused look. “It’s not the first time I’m searching in this section for information, that’s all.”

“I’ve been several times too and I always needed a note from a professor,” I grumbled as Ginny opened the door of the section. Once sure we were alone in it, Ginny turned to me and finally explained why we were here.

“We’re going to do some research about this muggle family you think your father has killed.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s something strange, and with Zillah’s reaction, I wonder if her family isn’t involved.”

“Impossible,” I objected. “They are muggles.”

“That’s what she told you.” I was beginning to find this far-fetched when she asked me something else that made me doubt. “Tell me, does Zillah seem scared by the whole muggle born thing to you?”

I opened and closed my mouth several times. Now that I thought about it, she didn’t seem even concerned by the several attacks and controls that the muggle borns were suffering. I hadn’t heard her talking about it once, and if we added the behaviour I had found inappropriate in the train, then it was natural to think that maybe she had something to hide. As Ginny was still monologuing, I found a table in a corner between two shelves and pulled a chair; I hadn’t said anything about it, but all the cells of my body were still burning, making every movement really painful.

“Does it still hurt?” asked Ginny from behind me. Her hand suddenly appeared in front of me, holding a vial filled with potion. “It’s for the pain.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled before drinking it straight. “So, where do we begin?”

The next hour and half was spent pouring over genealogy books and articles mentioning murders and death eaters. The potion Ginny had given me had made me sleepy, my eyes were closing despite my will to stay awake to find information, and Ginny eventually decided it was enough for this day.

“I’m going to bring you back to the room of requirements, and then I’ll help Neville and Luna, okay?”

I nodded and let her put back in their shelves all the books we had been reading. Then we left the library and joined our little safe place. Ginny only left after having made sure I was in my bed and too asleep to move away from it.

_ _ _

“I gotta admit you were right,” mumbled Neville, the eyes still fixed on the picture he was holding.

“I knew it, there was something strange from the beginning! Zillah is a liar and she had us all.”

Ginny had finally found the proof she had been looking for for days now: my father wasn’t a murderer. He had probably never known the muggle family that had been killed, I would have to ask him if the opportunity arose. The picture was a good enough evidence in itself: it had been taken by a muggle that lived in a street close to where the murder had occured, only a few minutes after the presumed moment of the facts. It showed a man leaving an alley with what looked awfully like blood all over his clothes. He was a wizard, which couldn’t be denied as he was holding a wand, and more importantly, his face wasn’t my fathers but the same as Zillah. I had first objected that it could be a coincidence; that was great because I was now sure my father wasn’t responsible, but maybe it wasn’t a member of Zillah’s family? Ginny had then handed me a copy of a muggle newspaper that mentioned a guy with Zillah’s family name, saying that he had been missing for a week. He had disappeared two days before the murder.

“But-” I had tried to object before Neville interrupted me.

“Listen Y/N, I think that these are unquestionable evidence. I understand that you refuse to believe that your friend lied to you, but it seems pretty obvious to me that she isn’t the person she says she is.”

“Even if it’s his father, it doesn’t mean that she knew!” I exclaimed. Neville and Ginny exchanged a glance that I didn’t like at all, and Ginny sighed.

“There’s something we haven’t told you,” she began. “We didn’t want to break it to you unless we were sure, but with all the things we’ve found, there’s no doubt left. You know this Slytherin guy she’s always with?” I nodded, apprehending what was next. “He and all his family have sworn allegiance to You-know-who. She meets regularly with him and a few other people in the dungeons. Most of them have well known death eaters in their family.”

Neville and Ginny were both looking at me and looking sorry. The latter patted my shoulder before wrapping her arm around my shoulders.

“We can’t let her know we’ve figured everything out,” she murmured. “I think it would be too dangerous.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Neville shook his head, an irritating sympathetic look on his face, and he left without another word. Ginny was still just next to me; with everything that had happened, I was probably in for several months with her following me like my own shadow. That thought didn’t bother me at all.

“You know, Neville doesn’t really understand why you didn’t ask your family about all of this,” said Ginny after a few minutes spent in silence. “After all, with the rumours it’s legitimate. Is it because of this?”

“I wasn’t sure I could trust my mother to tell me the truth, and I didn’t ask my father for obvious reasons. As for the rest of my family, they are all suspected too.”

“I see,” she murmured. “I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t find anything about them, just the proof that your father’s innocent. At least now, you’ll be able to ask your parents.”

I noded silently. After another few minutes, Ginny decided I had to change my mind and offered to follow her in the greenhouses. I first refused; couldn’t she let me get depressed on my own? But she insisted and I eventually gave up, secretly grateful that she hadn’t just left me alone.

I thought that with time, I had gotten used to the new Hogwarts, to the now omnipresent silence and darkness that crept in every corridor. It had been a while since the first of September, a time long enough to forget how joyful the place used to be. However, when we got to the main floor, where usually there were always several groups of students and even teachers no matter what time it was, it hit me harder than ever that the school was now like dead. As if it had been killed by all the evil that had invited itself.

“It’s scary, isn’t it?” I glanced at Ginny, wondering if she was thinking about the same thing as I was. “How everything seems physically darker than before,” she added. “In all honesty, I don’t know anymore what could save the castle… I thought that Dumbledore's Army was the solution, but let’s face it… We’re not changing anything here.”

“You’re wrong, many students are safe in the room of requirements thanks to Dumbledore’s Army. And think about the day Harry, Ron and Hermione will come back, think about how things will change!”

Ginny nodded with a smile and quietly thanked me. If it hadn’t sounded so cliché, I would have answered that she had done way more for me, and that all I wanted was her to be confident because I would have done anything for her. But it did sound very cliché, so I just shrugged it off.

“Funny how you just thought of my brother and his friend,” Ginny suddenly said with a malicious smile. “You are sure it had nothing to do with the fact that you’re in love with him?”

“What?” I exclaimed in disbelief. “Me? In love with Ron? Certainly not!”

“Then why are you always so excited to come with us for the holidays?”

Ginny seemed to be really amused by the situation, but I really wasn’t. She was right when she said that I was always overjoyed to spend some time at the Burrow but it wasn’t for Ron, I barely spoke with him! I wasn’t sure about the reason behind this excitement but it was definitely not her brother.

“I don’t know, but trust me, it’s not because of any of your brothers.”

“That’s too bad.” she stated, even though it didn’t really look like she was disappointed. “I still hope one day, you’ll be officially part of the family.” I laughed, and agreed with her. “You know what they say, as long as there’s life, there’s hope!”

“Yeah, well it looks like we won’t stay hopeful for long, then,” I mumbled as I was watching the empty corridor.

“You shouldn’t be so pessimistic, Y/N.” Ginny wasn’t smiling anymore, but she wasn’t looking defeated either. She was just determined. “We’re together, there’s inevitably hope. You and I, we’re two against the storm, and we have our friends and family. I’m not too afraid, and I don’t want you to be.”

“I’m not,” I smiled. “Not anymore. Ginny, I just wanted you to know that… As long as you need me, I won’t fall.”

She grabbed my hand and smiled.

“I’ll always need you.”

“Then I’ll never fall.”

#dev's2kwritingchallenge #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #Ginny Weasley #ginny weasley imagine #ginny weasley x y/n #ginny weasley x reader #ginny weasley x you

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arandompostarchive · 4 years ago

Text

Inure - Prologue

SAVED WORK

Summary: To some, The Specter is a serial killer. To some, a hero. But to everyone, you were entirely a mystery. You had no history, just a list of victims a mile long. No matter how many people searched your name, they could find anything. If only they had the spelling right. Now, you’ve come across some unfortunate information that drives you out of your usual shadows and into the path of the Avengers. Including two of the more reclusive members of the team. And it’s hard to pick only one of them.

W/T: cursing, blood, violence, slight panic attack

***

Your eyes slowly opened. At least you thought they opened. There was nothing but pitch black around you, a pillow-like fabric lying beneath you. You felt your way around the small space, trying to figure out where you were.

You couldn’t remember much. Just screaming and a flash. Some sort of loud, ear-splitting sound. Then you were here. Where ever ‘here’ was.

You tried to listen to what was around you. You tried and tried but heard nothing but a blood curdling silence. Absolute silence. Now that you were really thinking, you had never heard real silence in your life. Not like this. This was chilling.

As much as you liked laying around doing nothing, you were getting bored of it quickly. You felt like everything was closing in on you, though in the tight space you sat in, that was fully possible. You tried to stay as calm as you could, given the situation, and started kicking at the sides of whatever space you were in. It was tough to push against, but eventually the side broke and you could feel something spill into your space. It was most definitely dirt.

Buried alive. Not how you thought your weekend was going to go.

“I need a fucking drink after this.” You mumbled to yourself, noting how your words seemed to be swallowed up by the silence and dirt around you. You closed your eyes and pushed yourself through the dirt, ignoring the cold, wet feeling under your hands. You clawed through it, getting more than a few specks in your eyes and underneath your nails. With a few more pushes, you felt your hand break through the ground.

You struggled to find any sort of grip to pull yourself up. Your hands were weak by now and the ground was more mud than dirt. You felt cold rain on your hands and you pulled yourself up to the best of your ability.

The second your head was above the ground you spit out whatever dirt had landed in your mouth. You had lost your shoes on your way up, though that was hardly your first priority. You pulled your legs up though the dirt, rain beating down hard on your back. Your hair was plastered to your face and you were certain you looked less than presentable.

You looked around. As expected, you were in the middle of a graveyard. The moon was only a bright spot among the clouds, blurred by the heavy rain around you. At least your headstone was nice. It had engravings of flowers and vines around your name. The rain had washed away whatever dirt may have been there, leaving the engravings clear.

A dear friend who would do anything it took to help those she could.

You smiled a bit, wondering who thought of that. Which one of your friends planned your funeral…? What day was it? You shook the new thoughts out of your head, trying to gather as much information as possible. There were some plants growing along your headstone, you recognized it as ivy, though it was covering the dates below your name. You brushed it aside to read the year you supposedly died in. 1943. That sounded right. The memories were slowly coming back to you. Your family, friends, where you lived, where you worked.

You heard voices over the rain. You couldn’t be certain, but they sounded like men talking to each other, though you couldn’t tell how old they were.

“Sam if you don’t hurry up I swear to god!” You heard one of them shout.

“I’m trying! Maybe you should shut up and help, huh? Might back this go a little faster.” You walked toward the voices, stumbling a bit as rocks from the ground scratched against your feet.

“Hello?” You yelled as soon as you could see the figures. There were three men in total, though two of them were waist deep in a grave, shovels in hand. You didn’t really want to know what they were doing.

“Oh shit.” One of them said when they saw you coming. The one who was out of the grave stepped closer to you. He was tall and seemed intimidating, though at this point you couldn’t care less.

“What are you doin’ out this late?” The man asked kindly. Too kindly given the situation. He had a heavy New York accent, though you could still make out his words easily. He had a smirk on his face that might’ve scared you if you were 100% done with the universe’s bullshit right now.

“Listen, I don’t care what you’re doing. Tell me though, what day is it?”

The men looked at each other. “Sunday?” One of the men in the grave said, looking confused. He was wearing a hat which looked like it was doing more harm than good with how the rain was pulling it into his face.

You sighed. “If you wouldn’t mind being a little more specific.”

The other one in the grave answered for him “January 4th. Well, after midnight. So January 5th.” You didn’t remember it being January. You thought back to the last day you remembered.

You couldn’t remember the date, but you could remember a man. Stark. He got you ‘killed’, didn’t he? He fucked over your life for his own benefit. The second you got the chance, you were gonna kill him.

“Even more specific.” They looked at each other.

“Like, the time?” One of them finally asked.

You shook your head. “No, you idiot. What year is this.” They exchanged glances again.

“Uh, 1992?” The one in front of you said. 1992?

Fuck. How long had you been out? You were sure it was 1943. You were in the middle of the war, building weapons with Howard and brainstorming tactics with Peggy in your spare time. How on Earth was it 1992?

Howard could answer. Howard knew what happened to you, though he probably kept it to himself to preserve his ‘reputation’ or something like that. You’d find a way to kill him. Worse than kill him. You’d destroy his life just like he’d wrecked yours. You weren’t sure what was a weirder development in your life right now. Being buried alive and chatting with some grave robbers or somehow ending up 50 years in the future.

“Answer me one more question.”

This time you weren’t asking. The man in front of you backed away. You couldn’t see yourself. You were sure exactly what you were doing. But it felt different. It felt good.

“Your eyes.” One of them whispered, “What the hell happened to your eyes.”

You held up a hand to tell him to be quiet. Instead, the three men lifted off the ground. So the night keeps getting weirder.

They were silent, their hands clawing at their throats, though there was nothing there. That’s when you saw it. The body of three women in back of them. They were clearly fresh, more fresh than someone who had been buried. Multiple stab wounds decorated their backs. So they weren’t grave robbers. They were murderers.

“Where can I find Howard Stark?” You asked. They frantically looked at each other, hoping someone would have an answer for you.

“That millionaire guy?” You almost laughed. Millionaire. Of course. “I don’t know, lady! I’m sure he’s got a company or somethin’, ask them!” It was worth a shot asking. “Please, put us down.” You cocked your head, glancing down to the bodies behind the men.

“I’m sure they asked for a little mercy. Doesn’t seem like you all cared, though.” You frowned at them. You weren’t sure what you were doing. At this point, you were just rolling with the punches. But somehow, you remembered what to do. It was natural. Was this something you could always do? You couldn’t remember clearly.

You focused then clenched your fist. Watching blood drip from the men’s eyes. You dropped them. Scoffing at all six of the bodies on the ground. You didn’t bother cleaning up. It wasn’t like the police were going to put a woman who was dead for 50 years on their watch list.

You stepped over them. Sparing the women a glance. You straightened out their bodies, making sure they weren’t stuffed in a haphazard pile. Someone could give them a proper burial now.

You didn’t bother with the men. Blood had pooled around them. It looked more like brain matter, though it had been washed by the rain and you could hardly tell it from the mud now.

You didn’t smile.

#loki x reader #loki #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #loki x reader x bucky #inure #saved work #fanfic

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shiftyskip · 4 years ago

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Joseph “Joe” David Liebgott

The Real Joseph Liebgott:

Joseph David Liebgott was born in Lansing, Michigan in May 17, 1915 to Joseph (Josef) Liebgott Sr and Mary. Joseph Liebgott Sr was of German descent, but he was born in Beresztocz, Hungary. Joe’s mother was Yugoslavian, but was reported as born in either Yugoslavia or Hungary I am not sure which one because records show both. On his father’s side his grandparents were Yugoslavian as well. On his mother’s sider, they seem to be from Hungary. His mother immigrated in 1909, Lieb’s father immigrated in 1912.

Below is a picture believed to be his parents.

He was the oldest of his siblings. He has four sisters: Mary, Elizabeth, Anna, and Barbara, and one brother, Stephen/Steffen . Both of his parents spoke German, which would later help him during the war. His father worked in the auto industry before they moved.

His family soon moved to California around 1927 and his dad became a barber. He was the oldest of his siblings, one brother and four sisters. He was extremely protective of his younger sisters

Liebgott and his siblings attended Catholic schools. This is where learned how to box and played soccer.

After high school, Liebgott drove a taxi around San Francisco. This career was temporary and he soon attended barber college.

He was also previously married before the war. He was married in July 31, 1933 to a woman named Frances. They had one child, David Albert together on February 27, 1934. But the couple soon divorced within a year, and he was living with his family again by 1940, where he was working on a forestry project. Meanwhile his ex-wife and son moved into her family. Here is Joe and Frances:

He eventually became a barber and this was his career when he enlisted at the age of 26. Liebgott chose the paratroopers to be able to make more money to be able to put a down payment on his parents’ house.

Included is a photo of Joe and his mother

He has a Jewish service card, registered under his mother’s name. But his family denied he was Jewish, stating he was a German Roman Catholic. I’ll attach it below (filtered for safety).

In his draft card he is listed as 5 feet and 5 inches tall and was 109 pounds. He had blue-grey eyes and brown hair.

Malarkey remembers meeting Liebgott on his way to Toccoa where they became part of the original Toccoa men. Liebgott was trained under the harsh command of Herbert Sobel.

Liebgott didn’t talk much about the war, so there will be little but other’s words to put here. This is a photo from 1945 in France.

Right before the jump out of the airplane, he put his barber skills to use and gave a few of the men Mohawks.

He would jump out of the airplanes with the rest of the men on June 6, 1944. He received the bronze star for his bravery at Brecourt Manor, where he worked with Winters and several other men, Compton, Guarenere, Wynn, Lipton, Toye, Malarkey, and Ranney to destroy a German Battery firing on Utah Beach on the day of the D-Day Invasion.

He cut off the finger of a German that he had bayoneted and took the man’s ring near Carentan. At Carentan, Ed Tipper was seriously wounded after clearing out a house with Liebgott. Liebgott grabbed Tipper, yelled for a medic, and told Tipper that he’d be okay. Welsh and Lieb dragged Tipper into the street until Welsh could get him back to the aid station.

After Brecourt, Compton recalls a painful memory with Liebgott in his book, Call of Duty, Compton and Liebgott were patrolling along hedges at dusk. Across the way, in another set of hedges were two men. Both were dressed in German ponchos, one was holding a German gun. Assuming that these men were in fact German, he and Liebgott shot the men. Come to find out, when they checked their dog tags, they were not Germans. They were Americans. They had just killed fellow soldiers in friendly fire.

October 5, 1944. Winters sent a few Youmen out on patrol to take an outpost near a windmill. Liebgott and a few other men (James Alley among them) went with Sgt. Youmen. They sent one man ahead, to look out over the dike. The man spotted German machine guns. German voices approached the remaining boys. Lieb called out for the Youman, as we was trailing behind, only to have grenades thrown at him and the other men. Liebgott got minor wounds while James Alley received 32 shrapnel wounds in his left side, stretching from his face down. They’d run into a company of SS.

Liebgott was known for being rough with prisoners, the fighting that followed the injuries wit the SS company was a prime example of this. After Winters led his patrol to attack these Germans, in which during the fighting they lost William Dukeman, 7 Germans surrendered. The most famous story of Liebgott is as follows, in Dick Winter’s words.

As Winters explains in his book, “Tech/5 Joseph D. Liebgott had been slightly wounded in the arm, but he was ambulatory so I assigned him the mission of escorting seven German prisoners to the rear. Liebgott had earned the reputation of being one of Easy’s best combat soldiers, but we had all heard stories that he was very rough on prisoners. Liebgott was one of Easy Company’s “killers,” so I deemed it appropriate to take a bit of caution. When he heard me say, “Take the prisoners back to the battalion command post,” he replied. “Oh, boy! I’ll take care of them.” In his exuberance, Liebgott stood up and paced back and forth and he was obviously very nervous and concerned. I stopped him in his tracks. “There are seven prisoners and I want seven prisoners turned over to battalion.” Liebgott was highly incensed and started to throw a tantrum.Somewhat unsure of how he would react, I then dropped my M-1 to my hip, threw off my safety, and said, Liebgott, drop all your ammunition and empty your rifle.” There was much grumbling and swearing, but he did as I had ordered. “Now,” I said, “you can put one round in your rifle. If you drop a prisoner, the rest will jump you.””

Liebgott got all 7 prisoners back.

Joe would recover in a hospital in England with Webster, but he was back before Bastogne. Here is the record for that:

Name:Joseph D Liebgott Race:White, includes Mexican (White) Rank:Enlisted Man Admission Age:29 Birth Date:abt 1915 Admission Date:Oct 1944 Discharge Date:Nov 1944 Military Branch:Infantry, Parachute Troops or Units Diagnosis:FirstLocation: Ulna, generally; CausativeAgent: Artillery Shell, Fragments, Afoot or unspecified Type of Injury:Casualty, battle Injured in Line of Duty:In line of duty Type of Discharge:Duty Length of service:2 Year(s), 6 Month(s)

In Bastogne, Winters made him a runner to get away from the tension and constant stress of fighting. One story of his service was outside of Foy is the battle of Noville, he and Earl Hale ducked into a barn and took 6 SS officers prisoner. Outside the barn, a shell exploded. One of the SS officers took this as an opportunity and jumped Hale. He slit Hale’s throat. Liebgott instantly shot and killed the officer. He then killed the others. Hale survived miracuously.

At some point, before the end of the war, Liebgott became first platoon’s interpreter-radioman. This was because he could speak some German. But Webster claimed in his book that the German’s didn’t understand his Yiddish.

He was with Webster when they took Hitler’s Nest. They spent their time drinking Hitler’s alcohol together with a few other men. He was living with Headquarters Company while there.

Of course, the war came to an end and everyone who wanted to was discharged.

Over the course of the war, Lieb was injured 3 times and won 3 purple hearts. He refused one because the wound was “just a scratch”. He would receive partial disability for his wounds.

When he returned home, he disappeared for two years. Eventually he was found living in Yuma, California. He didn’t come to reunions, even when offered multiple times. His father simply told the vets “not to mess with him”.

After the war, Liebgott was a barber for a short time. He married again to a woman named Peggy in 1949. They had eight kids together. Making Lieb’s total children come to nine, although he was mostly involved with the last eight. They lived on a barber’s salary, not leaving much room for fun activities but everyone had their basic needs met. He often only had one day a week off and would take his kids to a Long Beach pike, where they would visit an amusement park.

Liebgott liked to bet on the ponies at the racetrack. Every other sunday, him and his boss would take the boss’ airplane down to Mexico.

He is believed to have never contacted anyone from his days in Easy Company. He just wanted to get away from the war.

The Liebgotts divorced in April of 1969. She remarried, but he never did. He was described as really quiet by his granddaughter.

She states, in Marcus Brotherton’s book Company of Heroes (pages 120-121) “His hands looked like a man who worked with his hands, sunspots all over. He absolutely loved his grandkids. he had false teeth that he flipped out of his mouth and smiled, threatening to kiss us with his gums. He was a tickler. He never held babies over his shoulder...because he wanted them to see everything....He didn’t have a lot of money - I’m pretty sure all he had was his veteran’s benefits...He made all of the bikes for the grandkids by scouring thrift stores for dilapidated bikes. He stripped the bikes down to their frame, fixed and assembled them as good as new. He let each grandchild pick the color of new paint for his or her bike....I always knew the specific foods we were going to eat at his house. He had bite-sized candy bars and store brand soda-pop. There was no drinking water in his house. He always lived in rental houses...”

He was very neat, and keep his house and appearance orderly. However, he was always working in the garage, so the house had black smudges from the dirt on his hands.

However, Liebgott was not perfect. While he hated the Nazis, he was also seen as a bigot, maybe even harsher. Rhonda explained that he threw the n word around like it wasn’t a big deal. He blamed the wrong goings of the world on different ethnic groups. Rhonda started seeing a guy from El Salvador, he asked if her partner “even spoke English?”

As he grew older, Lieb got sicker. He eventually lost the use of one of his legs from a hernia. He was confined to a chair and hated any new technology. He was stuck in a wheelchair, angry when he would hit a cabinet.

Lieb did not talk about his military career until towards his end. He would spend time with his son Jim, watching tv talking about the war during a war movie. He would talk about the war when he was mad, possibly angry at himself for doing a lot of killing and other things that people his age shouldn’t have to do.

In 1992, Liebgott developed a tumor in his neck, near his windpipe that would cause a lot of pain. Jim took him to the hospital on Father’s Day. Shortly later, on June 28, 1992 Liebgott died. He was against a funeral and just wanted to be cremated, so his family did as he wished. They still have his ashes and letters and the Toccoa book.

#Real Life Band of Brothers #real band of brothers #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom

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wowheadquarters · 4 years ago

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don't be shy, drop ALL your Kel'Thuzad headcanons~

All of them? Hm. I don’t know if I remember all of them. Also, I stopped keeping track of WoW some time in the middle of the Battle for Azeroth, because it can either be WoW whcih I enjoy or shitwreck, and I chose WoW, which isn’t what Blizzard/Activision is currently serving- I meant to say that most likely my headcanons aren’t Shadowlands compatibile.

Anyway. Kel’thuzad headcanons of various importance as I remember them.

Kel’thuzad is his actual given name, it’s not a pseudonym or anything.

In Thalassian “kel’thuzad” mean “seeker of the truth”. (In Darnassian the same phrase is “keil tassad” and in Zandali “kel’ta sad”.)

Kel’thuzad speaks Common and Thalassian fluently. Before the Dark Portal opened he knew some phrases in Dwarven (conversational) and Gnomish (related to transport industry and mathematic). He can also speak Zandali with varying accents (mostly Amani), but he knows only five or six Zandali signs (he can sign his name, but that’s it).

After the Dark Portal opened, Kel’thuzad tried and failed to learn Orcish. He gained the skill later when it was a trial-and-error learning by communicating with Ner’zhul. Due to that Kel’thuzad’s accent when speaking Orcish is not “Human,” but distinctly Shadowmoon.

He also learned Nerubian from... well, the dead Nerubians. He can now both speak and write fluently even with encryption.

(There are 3 ways of Nerubian ecryptions and they can be simultaneously applied. This way there exist 7 versions of encryption plus 1 unencrypted text. These are known as the Eight Webs of writing. Plain text is written in the First Web, triple encryptin is the Eighth Web.)

He can read (but not speak) Nathrezim, and somewhat read and speak Shath’Yar, the language of the Old Gods. He would understand Quiraji if he ever encountered it, because it is very close to Nerubian (like Czech and Slovakian, I imagine).

The Language of Death, by the Scourge usually referred to as Deathspeak, is an artificial language created by Kel’thuzad. It is based on all languages he knew at the point of creating it, and is fairly easy to learn if you find a willing teacher. It was created for the members of the Cult of the Damned to understand ach other without them feeling like one language/race is put above the other, and to partially control their thoughts, as the language specifically hasn’t got some words or phrases (such as “rebellion”). Orwell would be proud.

He was brownhaired, but he greyed out fairly quickly when Ner’zhul settled in his head without paying any rent.

He was from Kul’Tiras. (I still want him to necromance a sunken ship. And a chalk cliff.)

His family name is Naxrierre. There is a theory that Naxrierres were a witch coven that became civilized with years, which is mostly spread by naysayers to explain the family’s talent towards magic. Another theory claims that they are a part-elven bastards which would besides the magic explain the name.

Kel’thuzad took the elf-Naxrierr theory to heart and in his ambition for one of his sons to make it somewhere else than the navy agve him a Quel’dorei name.

The suffix -ramas in Nerubian signifies not encessarily a necropolis but any place to permanently home dead bodies. “Naxxramas” is basically “Nax(rierre)’s tomb” but in Nerubian.

As a mage in Dalaran Kel’thuzad studied arcanophysic, a way to describe and measure magic. This field is where all the calibration of spells or even negating spells comes from. He became the sole teacher of it in Dalaran, because he was the only one enthusiastic enough about it to bother.

He was that type of teacher who didn’t give homeworks, he hated correcting them. He also had his classes in the most unreasonable hours, such as 3 AM, because he had a busy schedule and non-existent sleep pattern.

Since Kel’thuzad’s banishment the knowledge of arcanophysics among the Dalaran mages has drasticaly declined and is nearly nonexistent nowadays. All books Kel’thuzad had written on it have been sealed away, which removed nearly all reliable sources from the public access.

Kel’thuzad actually had good relationships with his colleagues. He helped Alonda with her fild research on Trolls (hence his speaking Zandali).

His closest friend was Anthonidas. They used to be classmates once upon the time.

What really undermined Kel’thuzad’s trust and belief in Kirin Tor was what happened to Khadgar. He realized that Kirin Tor is not going to act if given a warning, and not going to help if hearing a plea.

He still tried to warn Kirin Tor before what he didn’t know was the Scourge. He had noticed the Amani “moving out of the way”. “Whatever will happen, and I believe that this time it will be the dead, because the demons haven’t tried that yet, it will happen in a single line from Lordareon to Quel’Danas. We know the Amani can see into the future, and they are clearing out of this path.” Dismissed as a doomsayer, he wasn’t really persistent in his warnins.

Ner’zhul’s talks to Kel’thuzad began as especially persistent migraines. Whenever Kel’thuzad tried to tell Anthonidas that his condition is serious, he was sent off with a mug of peacebloom tea and an advice not to stay up so late, and maybe lay off some stress.

The teacher who taught Thrall in his early years such stuff as writing, that was Kel’thuzad in disguise when he was rectuiting in and around Durnholde Keep.

No, Kel’thuzad has no idea the little pet-orc he was trying to groom and later kidnap for the Cult of the Damned (What a better liteunant than the one you raise yourself?) is Thrall, the Warchief of the Horde.

Kel’thuzad was tasked with finding and preparing the perfect new host for Ner’zhul. He was trying to overthrow the Lich King, so he picked Arthas as a paladin of Light whom he believed strong willed enough to handle it. And at the start of the story Arthas was.

His second choice for Lich King would have been Kael’thas.

He shuffled his cards in the deck of “Scourge politics” so that Bolvar Fordragon would take the Helm of Domination after Arthas. Players greta victory? Just according to keikaku.

He had (and still has) a “wanted poster” for Garrosh Hellscream. He really wanted him into the Scourge army. The reward was a whole necropolis with units.

Naxxramas had a dedicated “catkeeper” tasked with taking care of Mr. Bigglesworth and cleaning the acid/slime vats. Her name was Gwendoline, usually called Gwen, she is now one of Garrosh’s ghost children. Gwen died during the attack on Theramore where she was working as a spy for the Scourge.

Liches feed off people emotions and minds. The Lich Kign keeps it secret (even from Kel’thuzad) to keep them starved and obedient. The passive “nibbling” causes that people around liches start to be unfeeling.

Kel’thuzad has developed the Cure for the Plague quite early on. Ner’zhul made him test the plagues seeds on himself.

Speakig of that, Ner’zhul (and later Arthas as the Lich King) had a complete control over Kel’thuzad’s body, so if he refused to carry out an order, Ner’zhul could just make him do it anyway.

Additionally, the Lich King could kep him going despite injuries, exhaustion &c. Arthas fancied himself thinking that h killed Kel’thuzad, but the truth is that the cumulative injuries (several broken bones, stab wounds, a concussion, frostbites, poisonings), exhaustion and starvation were enough to kill Kel’thuzad twice over, no hammer needed. Ner’zhul just in that moment let Kel’thuzad die, because that was what he needed.

He used to play Hearthstone a lot when he was alive. He had a very good Hunter Murlock tribal deck.

He is asexual, and quite possibly aromantic too. In his words: “I believe in love on the first sight. And I am probably blind or something, as it seems.”

His favourite colour is purple.

Shortly before the capture of Bolvar Fordragon Kel’thuzad re-bound his phylactery from the whole urn to a single shard. The shard was sold by a cult of the Damned agent in Kul’Tiras to Taelia Fordragon as a lucky amulet.

Whenever as a lich Kel’thuzad regained his form, he always found himself knee-deep in water due to some fucking coincidences, starting with the Sunwell.

Speaking of Sunwell, he carries in himself “a spark of Sunwell”. this has many benefits, such as power or not giving a fuck about Light being super-effective against the undead. It is a thing to be revealed out of the blue without prior warning when we need to reset the Sunwell (again).

He has enough knowledge of Troll and Orc shamanism to be considered a shaman, and too analytical and scientific mind to be actually good at it.

He also had made an oath to the Amani tribe that everything he’s learned from them would never be used to harm any Troll. It is why Kel’thuzad was not responsible for the havoc wrought in Zul’drak.

Naxxrams “responds” to Kel’thuzads emotions and feelings and even physical state. When he gets discorporated (killed), Naxxramas enters “save battery” mode. Naxxramas’ usual is “cold and static” and “cold and slightly shaking” which is Kelthuzad’s “bored” and “irritated” respectively.

He doesn’t like sweets, but he enjoyes crunchy stuff, be it cookies or fried potato slices. He craves the crunch.

He ate the flesh of several sapient beings. In several cases he knows it and the memory of ti makes him retch, even now when he is dead.

He likes dragons. He wants his own dreagonflight. (I have a headcanon abbout Sapphiron’s “Ivory” dragonflight of undead dragons.)

He has a saronite armour to match with the Bloodsurge. It decorates a ziggurat somewhere in Plaguelands. el’thuzad honestly doesn’t care. The armour has spikes on the inside, so if you put it on as a living being, you can’t take it off without bleeding out. A very emo move.

And I am tired now, so this will have to do for now. It’s not all of them, I am sure I haven’t thought of some area. But here we go.

#Kel'thuzad

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moral-turpitudes · 4 years ago

Text

Unfinished Business: Part 1

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Slight mentions of past Abuse, Drugs.

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

+ random character/group I made up (Romboldi & The Black Hats)

Word Count: 3,084 omfg I really did the most but I just kinda ran with it.

Summary: Y/N’s current occupation requires her to encounter Thomas Shelby, a man she thought was in her past for good, but as fate would have it, she has to face him once again, because no one can forget a Shelby.

Requested by: @msbzowy

Summary of request: “...Thomas lost any contact with the reader and one time while on a business deal he meets her because they’re both involved in the business. They would be fighting a lot but eventually something happens between them and the old feelings come back? You can make it sweet or steamy. No specific deal in mind, just like the general idea! Thank you in advance!”

A/N: This was requested as a oneshot but I had so many great ideas for it based off this awesome request, so I figured I’d turn it into a 2 or 3 part fic possibly. Let me know if that’s something you’d want to read. :)

Part 1 | Part 2

Y/n walked down the wooden staircase after receiving a phone call, one hand gliding down the rail, and the other holding her suitcase. Her nerves consuming her as she ran down the hall and out the door of her house in New York. The spring air filling her lungs as she quickly walked to the edge of the street, attempting to hail a cab. As she waved her hand out, she smiled as she saw one stop and handed him some cash for his efforts. She wasn’t much for pointless conversation, especially now. She was on her way to one of the biggest meetings of her career, a career she had found herself in only 2 years prior. It was a job most people wouldn’t want, but it paid well, and since she fled Small Heath, she needed the income and the protection.

Small Heath was a series of bittersweet memories. Seeing her friends at the tailor shops, walking down the dark cobblestone streets, and becoming particularly close to a man named Thomas Shelby. After the war, he got heavily involved in the business, dealing with rival gangs, going after commissioners, committing arson, murder, dealing with bets at the tracks, and breaking hearts most of all. In the matter of heartbreaks, y/n was his first true victim.

As the cab rolled down the city streets, she glanced out the window, remembering all that she left behind.

Tensions in the blinders were running high at the time of her departure from the company, back when they had a business meeting with a rival group, the Black Hats from New York. The blinders wanted to transport weapons and ammo for a cheaper price because of recent financial troubles, but they weren’t having it and the Black Hats declined, but not without blowing up one of Tommy’s supply areas. This smuggling shit was risky business to say the least, as these were being smuggled along with drugs.....snow to be exact. The little blue bottles were like gold, taking away the pain of the day while giving you the energy to go on to the next, sucking you in like a rip-tide at sea until you were consumed by the need for more. She had been all too familiarized with it because Tommy struck a deal with a huge supply of it before she left. He didn’t use it often, but Arthur was a different story.

It came as a shock to her, as she had been dating Tommy for a year before everything came crashing down. She was confronted by him at a family meeting saying that she needed to leave, that she had no place there despite her skills. She was a great shot and was helpful on many occasions, but to have her there would pose a risk they weren’t willing to take after they bombed him. So, in true Tommy fashion, he gave her some money, bought her a boarding pass, and sent her on her way to New York to start a new life, his cold eyes staring as he watched her board the ship, emotionless.

This only fueled her need to get back at him, to show him what he had lost, while also proving to herself that she didn’t need him as much as he needed her. She could make a name for herself, even if that meant working for the enemy.

Pulling up to the brick building, she realized she was now in the belly of the beast, the Black Hats home-turf. She was never seen with the Shelby’s when they visited him in Small Heath, as she was always doing secretary work at Tommy’s place, or perched high on rooftops, aiming at the men below who had came to charlies yard for their meetings. She was always out of sight regarding those men, but now here she was, working for them. She came to them seeking any position, lying about where she came from, supplying them with her forged papers, and even hiding her accent. For as big as this gang was, they weren’t the brightest, as they accepted her in with little apprehension.

She earned a good living for herself though, quickly becoming their main contract killer. She would travel the country and take out the people on their hit list, and in return they’d provide her with housing and a guard that would check in every so often.

As she walked in through the heavy double doors, she nodded to one of the guards who let her through into the leader, Mr. Romboldi’s office. He smiled as she came in, fiddling with his golden ring around his finger.

“Ah there she is...little miss Quick Shot. Nice of you to join us.” He said using her nickname she’d earned among her peers. She could hit a target from various angles and distances without much help and came to like the name she made for herself. Y/n soon nodded and stood at attention like the others, ready for the days orders.

“We have some unfinished business in Small Heath, as I’m sure you’re all aware. It’s been a while since we’ve been overseas, and we’re going to send someone tomorrow to discuss our deal once more as they’ve had recent success in a certain business venture that I’m sure we’d appreciate here.” He said with a serious look in his eyes.

“What venture?” One of the men asked.

“Gin. Buying stocks in it, selling bottles, transporting cross-country, we Americans love our gin and Mr. Shelby has a new supply. He tried to low-ball us last time with the ammo, the guns, and the snow, but I’m going to send him an offer he can’t refuse this time.” He said smirking.

“What offer is that?” Y/n asked, putting on her fake accent.

“You.” He said looking at her. Y/n’s heart sank, as she looked at him and nodded. She never wanted to see him again after he booted her out like she meant nothing to him, even if it was to save-face for him and the company and for her safety.

“You’re going to get him to supply us the gin and get him to pay us full price for our efforts with this am I clear?” He asked.

“Yes sir.” y/n said.

“If you fail, we’ll be meeting again under very different circumstances.” He said, an evil smile playing at his lips.

She’s known him long enough to know that he meant he’d kill her or Tommy, and as much as she hated the man who broke her heart, she still loved him at the same time, and she couldn’t let him or his family die over a silly business deal.

As soon as she was dismissed, she grabbed her suitcase and headed off to the boating docks, buying a ticket and boarding the ship. She knew her boss didn’t care when she left, as long as she got there sometime that week. And besides, she was too anxious to wait around for tomorrow, knowing this was time sensitive.

After the grueling ride aboard the ship, she went into London after going through the necessary checks. She used her alias and made her best impression, and then went on to Small Heath as assigned. When she got out of the car, she smirked as her red heels hit the black soil covered streets. Walking by a shop, she saw a women’s tailor and decided to stop in, buying a well made pant suit. It fit well and was a nice gray color with pinstripe detailing. Looking around further, she decided on a gold pocket watch, and nice hat to match, and then went on her way after buying it all.

Walking down the street, she saw the Garrison, causing all the memories she had with Tommy and the rest of the blinders to start coming back. They were like brothers to her and despite her bitterness, she still loved them, as they were not particularly happy in seeing her go, as that was solely Tommy’s decision.

Y/n shook the thoughts from her head, and waited outside the shop, leaning her back against the coal-black wall. While lighting a cigarette and taking a drag from it, she looked off into the distance seeing a man in a peaked cap riding a dark horse, much different than the white one she saw two years ago. As he pulled up near Shelby Company Ltd. He stopped in his tracks as y/n took another drag of her cigarette, looking at her pocket watch.

“Nice horse Tommy. You’re right on time.” She said relishing in the fact that she could use her normal accent. Her sunglasses and new brimmed hat helped in disguising her face.

“Thank you miss....Who are you?” He asked his eyes burning a hole through her shaded lenses. She smirked and took them and the hat off, revealing her face.

“Y/n...” He said, his eyes growing wide. He immediately took her inside and to his office, shutting the door behind him.

“What on earth are ya fucking doing here?” He asked.

“That’s not a nice greeting for someone you haven’t seen in two years Tom. But given what happened I didn’t expect anything nice from you anyways. I’m here on business.” She said, walking past him to put her cigarette out. He watched as she walked towards him, her arms folded over her well-fitting suit, standing in front of him.

“What business is that?” He asked.

“Oh you know, just a little...mafia business back in New York. Nothing too big... except that you’ve pissed off my boss. And now I’m sent here to try to make a deal.” She said making herself at home in one of his leather armchairs. He raised an eyebrow and sat on the edge of his desk near her.

“What deal? Who are you working for y/n?” He asked.

“The Black Hats. Mr Romboldi to be exact...ring a bell yet? The son of a bitch who took me in after you booted me out without a goodbye? Yeah, him. He still remembers your little low-ball offer for the guns, the ammo, and-” She chuckled as she remembered the drugs. “-the fucking snow.” She said giving him daggers.

He looked down, y/n could see the gears turning in his head.

“I told you to leave and not go anywhere near them y/n. Why the hell are ya working for em aye?” He asked angrily.

“You and I both know I couldn’t just sit around twiddling my thumbs and making pies for someone I never loved all day. I wasn’t going to be some house wife to some old bastard while I could’ve been out shooting and working a meaningful job. I wasn’t going to let myself rot.” She said, her own voice raising.

“You didn’t have to choose this life though. You could’ve left this behind like I wanted you to.” He said lighting a cigarette.

Y/n chuckled. “I remember what you told me one time, when I first started getting involved in Peaky business. You said and I quote, ‘you can change what you do, but you can’t change what you want.’ And you know what Tommy? I wanted this life, I wanted you, I wanted to make a name for myself, I wanted the thrill of this job because I often feel nothing. But I’ve only gotten half of that.” She said getting up, pacing around the room as he watched.

“What did you not get y/n?” He asked too focused on the mafia issue at hand to realize she mentioned him.

“You, you fucking idiot! But you threw me out, no goodbyes, no letters, nothing.” She said, her eyes filling up with tears.

“Y/n...that was two years ago. I was trying to protect you.” He said noticing the tears running down her face.

“I had a job. I had a life here. I’m not expecting you to ever want me back but god damn it I’d like an apology. Hell, you didn’t protect me from shit.” She said, thinking about some of the things she had to do to get through to some people for her boss. She shuddered at the thought.

He looked hurt, seeing her like that, and despite it being two years since that day, he still loved her all the same, he was just terrible at showing it. He never thought he’d see her again, and in that moment he decided he wasn’t going to let her go again.

She wiped her eyes as she felt him walk up behind her, she tensed up, not knowing what would happen next. He put his hand on her shoulder lightly, and she turned around to face him, her eyes still bright and hopeful after all that had happened. He loved her, and after she left, he mentally beat himself up over it every day. He turned to snow for a while, along with his opium, but what he truly needed was y/n. Fearing she may be too angry to every take him back, he hesitated as he brushed the tears from her cheek and kissed her.

Instead of slapping him or walking out, she deepened the kiss, which surprised Tommy, as he pulled her as close has he could, not wanting to let her go. When they parted, lightly gasping for air, he smiled slightly and so did she.

“I-I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry y/n.” He said stepping back from her.

She looked at him as she processed what happened, she never expected to fall right back into his arms after all she went through, but here she was, being sucked in by his ocean blue eyes once again.

She straightened her blazer out and pushed a stray hair out of her face.

“Why did you kiss me Thomas?” Y/n asked taking another cigarette out of her pocket and lighting it.

Thomas thought for a moment, trying to pick his words less recklessly this time around.

“When I forced you out, I stayed up every night beating myself up. I’ll never get those nights back, but those nights made me realize something y/n.” He said.

“If you’re going to break my heart again just say it already.” She said tapping her heel impatiently.

“I love you...y/n.” He said looking at her, studying her as she moved anxiously. He loved the way she looked, the way she carried herself, the way she wasn’t afraid to call him out. But he was terrified for the first time in his life that the woman he loved wouldn't return those very words back to him.

She looked down, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “I came here not only because of an order Tom...but because deep down despite my hate for what you did, I knew why you did it. And even though two fucking years have passed, I still haven’t been able to get you out of my head. So, I guess what the fuck I’m trying to say is that I love you too, you bastard.” She said looking up at him a light smile playing at her lips.

He smiled and walked over to her and took her hand in his, kissing it lightly.

“I promise to never do something so foolish again y/n. I swear on me fucking life...so am I forgiven?” He asked.

She took his words into consideration and nodded, bringing his lips to hers. Breaking away, she walked around the room slowly, remembering all of their fun times in here after-hours.

“So, about Mr. Romboldi, y/n how serious is this?” He asked.

“Well, he said that you’ll have to pay them full price for their services. He wants your gin. He sent me to persuade you to pay him for distribution and sales in the states......and It’s not easy Tommy, smuggling things.... especially alcohol back to the states........I hate him and his men believe me, but they risk their lives getting that kind of stuff so I think you should consider paying a full price.” She said.

“And if I don’t?” He asked.

Y/n sighed. “I was also sent here because he knew you couldn’t refuse an offer if it came from a pretty woman. Now, he may have been right on that part, but he doesn’t know that I’ve been working under an alias for him, and he doesn’t know I know you. They think my name is Y/N Anderson, from Virginia. And so if you don’t take this offer, they’re going to find out, and then Mr. Romboldi and his men are gonna waltz in here and kill you, me, and everyone you care about because they’ve already been wronged once, and they don’t like being wronged a second time.” She said sternly, taking another drag from her cigarette.

He sighed and ran his hands over his head, his face growing angry.

“What is it Tommy?” Y/n asked, noticing his behavior.

“After all this time, I thought maybe I’d be done for a moment y/n. With this whole empire of a business. But I think that moment will never come...before I stupidly forced you away, I had everything. I had this going great, and at night I could sleep. But now, when I do sleep, I dream. And in my dream, someone wants my crown.” He said with a sad look to his eyes. Y/n came over to him and hugged him gently, feeling him relax at her touch.

“Well, I’m here now. And the only way you’re going to get a break and get to keep your crown is if you help me fucking take care of this Thomas.” She said.

He sighed and took a moment to think.

“Alright...in that case...you’re going to call him from a payphone tomorrow. You’re going to say I accept his offer now that we have the fucking funds to do so, and you’re going to tell him we can meet in a weeks time. We’ll meet in charlies yard again.” He said.

“So we have a deal then?” She asked grinning, still embracing him.

“We have a deal.” He said.

“So now that I’m here...where shall I stay?” She asked.

“Well, first I’m going to re-introduce you to the family which I’m sure they’ll love. Then, I’ll be taking you to my place.” He said.

“And why is that?” She asked a mischievous smile playing at her lips.

“Because we have some unfinished business.” He said, before pecking her lips and ushering y/n out the door and into the family meeting room.

#msbzowy #asks #peaky blinders #peaky blinders oneshots #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #katiesfics #damn i really went hard on this one oops #peakyrequests

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