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unfortunate-arrow · 2 years ago

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𝒲𝑒𝑒𝓀𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝓎𝓈 → Day 2: The Welcome Ball 2.0

Event by @endlessly-cursed, who also owns Prim (and Adonis)

8:01 pm

“Mr. Devlin, William. You’re the first to arrive,” Prim exclaims, offering him a smile.

“The ball begins at 8 pm,” William responds.

“You’ve never liked when they tell you an event begins at one time, but the expectation is to arrive later.”

“It makes no sense. Why not just say it begins at the later time?”

“Well, have a nice time. And, save me a dance, I suppose.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“That may be, but as I know you, you’ll leave a third of the way through. Do know, though, that I won’t tolerate anyone saying negative things about you, William.”

His lips quirk up in a half-smile. “You cannot control it all, Prim.”

“Ah, I know. But do try to enjoy yourself.”

“I shall endeavor to enjoy myself tonight. If no one makes mention of our dissolved engagement, then it shall at least be partly successful.”

“Ah, that farce. Do not remind me, but we are to show that it has not impacted relations between our titles. I still cannot believe how long these legal proceedings are taking.”

“Yes,” William sighs. “I know.”

9:15 pm

Simon surveys the crush as he makes his way towards the host and hostesses, like a good earl and a good third son. He stops for a word or two with many of his fellow peers, asking him about his opinions on this or that. Not that the words of a teenaged earl mean much to them, but they’ll likely spread the word about the reclusive earl of Wexford’s politics. And be repulsed by most of what he decides to champion, not that he has a seat in Parliament as he’s a peer of Ireland and not one selected to serve in government.

“Lord Gray. Lady Gray. Miss Gray,” Simon says, offering a quick bow once he approaches the family.

“Lord Wexford. How nice it is for you to attend. We missed you last year,” Lord Gray says.

“Ah, yes. Something came up that could not be ignored. I apologize that my regrets came so late.”

“Don’t worry about it, Wexford. I’m sure that everyone here shall find you infinitely fascinating. The reclusive earl of Wexford, finally showing his face at a society event.”

“You grant me too much intrigue. I am not nearly as interesting as one would think. The rumors have gotten a little out of hand.”

Simon doesn’t know how much the viscount or his daughter knew about the rumors. Well, specifically the horrifying rumor that stated that Simon had been the one to set the fire that had killed his entire family. That one was probably the result of Horace wanting to keep Simon hidden… and probably because Horace was still itching to get his greasy fingers on Simon’s title. Therefore, the fewer people knew Simon, the better, in Horace Dormer’s view.

9:47 pm

Minerva slips through the crowd, ducking beneath arms until she nearly runs smack into Adonis Demiurgos’s back. Her arms fly out, as she steadies herself. In that moment, though, Adonis turns around and Minerva loses whatever balance she had had previously garnered. The momentum has her falling forward, but his arms come forward, landing on her shoulders to steady her.

“Are you alright, Minerva?” he asks, his hands lingering on her shoulders.

“I’m fine,” Minerva replies, studying his face and appearance. There’s something different about him, but she cannot place what it is. “I was going to say hello to our hostess. My mother would have my head if I breached that protocol.”

“How is your family?”

“They’re good. Ned’s at home dealing with something or other. I didn’t pay attention to what it was. Ned rambles too much for my taste when it comes to that.”

Adonis laughed softly. “Well, I wouldn’t want your mother to have your head, so I’ll let you go… but before you do, could I get a dance?”

“A dance?”

“Yes, you know, what they do when music plays.”

“I know what a dance is, you clodpole.”

Adonis shakes his head, a small smile forming on his lips.

10:24 pm

“Thank you for adhering to my wishes about the Gryffindor Lynch boy, Prim,” Niamh says, upon finally having a moment with her fellow Ravenclaw.

“I wouldn't pressure you. I admire your dedication to establishing a career first, Niamh. And, the Lynch brothers both declined, something about other plans,” Prim replies.

“I suppose I’m just lucky that my parents are supportive of my plan and aren’t pressuring me to marry.”

“Yes, I’d say you are. What are your plans? I cannot believe we have never discussed that.”

“My plan is to become an auror.”

“Wow. I wish you the best of luck, but I’m sure this type of conversation will come up again.”

“I suppose it will,” Niamh says. “Also, this has been quite a lovely hall. I must admit, though, that I am a bit out of my depths. A Catholic farm girl from Mayo isn’t necessarily someone you imagine at a hall.”

“Thank you. And you fit in just as well as everyone else, even if you are a Catholic farm girl from Ireland.”

#weekendwiththegrays #wwtg22 #william devlin #simon battersea #minerva kennedy #niamh kelly #adonis demiurgos #aderva #minerva x adonis #hphl #hogwarts legacy #my ocs #other people’s ocs #my aesthetic #my writing #hope the little aderva scene makes up for not being able to write their meetcute #and the idea is that both lord gray & lord carlisle are covering their asses when dissolving the marriage contract to avoid suing #because even though it was fairly mutual they both want be covered #also that they didn’t really do any events together that summer so now at this event they need to put on that face

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aemiron-main · 1 year ago

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Maybe you considered it an hate ask, even if i just pointed out that you are not really enjoying a villain character if you have to make up theories about how in reality he did nothing wrong ever. I am a Griffith apologist ( i don't know if you know the character but he's quite famous and in his story he did things that make Vecna looks like a toddler) so i know that liking a villain doesn't mean condone those acts in real life, and i hate when others suggest it. But, like i said, you are not analyzing a villain, you're making up a new different character and even if there is nothing wrong with it (this is a fandom and there is content drought) you are a little too presumptuous, always going on defensive mode if someone finds your theories a stretch.

Alright, so, you sent me two asks (and you’re the person who sent this ask), so I’m going to paste the first ask below & then respond to both.

“ you can't enjoy a villain character without making up stupid streched theories about alternative dimensions and pushing them as canon, so no, yours is not a "normal fandom behaviour" and by the way Henry is literally just some bad guy, he's basically Dark Eleven. He's not that deep, he's not Griffith from Berserk (that's a fascinating no pluridimensional villain character that can be analyzed endlessly and he is actually queercoded, henry can't relate i fear 🫢) ”

Look, anon, first of all, if any of what you’ve said was prompted by my posting tonight re: Dani, you must have missed the multiple times where I said that I don’t care about Dani’s takes on Henry or on my analysis- what I DO care about is being accused of forgiving real-life rapists based on my analysis posting about a fictional antagonist.

Also second of all re: a hate ask, I mean, what was I supposed to call it when you opened it by calling my analysis stupid?

I’m not forcing you to read my theories. I don’t care if you believe them or not- you’re the one coming into my inbox making assumptions about me and telling me my analysis is a reach.

You are making a lot of assumptions in this whole writeup. I’m not incapable of enjoying a villain- I simply have evidence to support that Henry isn’t the villain/that things are deeper than what’s presented on the surface level of the show. Hell, I’ve already said repeatedly that Henry being Vecna doesn’t change my opinion on Young Henry not being born evil, and also doesn’t prevent me with sympathizing with him or enjoying him as a character.

However, I simply don’t believe that he IS Vecna. I know lots of people on here analyze based on what they want to be true, but that certainly isn’t the case for me. I analyze based on trying to figure out what’s actually going on in the show, regardless of what I want to be happening.

If I wanted to enjoy Henry and be a full on apologist for everything Vecna’s ever done, then I would. I don’t need to invent any theories to do that. But I don’t think he’s Vecna, and I’m having fun analyzing the Edward subtext. Did it never occur to you that I’m also an Edward enthusiast in terms of enjoying “””””villain”””””” characters??? Or that I enjoy Brenner *as a well-written villain* and as a representation of abuse of power and predation and abusive systems? Which doesn’t align with the idea that I’m simply trying to invent things about Henry so that he’s not the villain. (Sure, I’m not a Brenner fan in the same way taht I’m a Henry or an Edward fan, but that’s because they’re different characters and even Vecna is more sympathetic than Brenner imo, but again, that’s part of Brenner’s character and it’s a good, effective part of it.)

And I’m absolutely normal fandom behaviour- in what world is analyzing the piece of media that a fandom is centered around not “normal fandom behaviour”? And “pushing them as canon”- you mean posting them on my own damn blog and responding to people like you who come into my inbox about it or responding to the weird rapist apologist accusations like tonight? Because I’m not pushing a single thing. And even if I was, who cares! Block me if you don’t want to see it, instead of wasting your time chastising me for interacting with media in the way I enjoy most (analysis).

Like, analysis IS the thing I enjoy most about fandom. I’m not just doing analysis so that I can try and enjoy a villain by making him not a villain- I’m doing analysis because it’s one of my favourite things to do, and because I want to try and get to the bottom of what’s actually going on in ST.

Have you actually read any of the posts? Do you have specific criticism or questions that I can address instead of vague assumptions about me?

And also, I’m not “making up” any character. Again, have you read the posts? Edward Creel is mentioned by name, on screen, with his backstory and timeline written out on screen, and then I’m extrapolating from that using literary analysis techniques (such as looking at subtext and how that subtext is conveyed by elements like repetition, parallels, intertextuality etc) & pulling that sort of evidence from the show.

I don’t just sit there and think of random things that I want to happen. If that was the case, my analyses wouldn’t be full of evidence/screenshots of the show. Even if I’m wrong about my conclusions, I’m not just pulling them out of thin air.

Your claim that I’m not analyzing anything is completely false, even if I’m completely wrong about everything, I’ve still been doing analysis, you can still look through and see what connections I made and what evidence I used to make those connections and how I came to my conclusion based on what we see in the show.

Also, I’m standing outside right now and too damn tired to talk about Griffith because that’s neither here nor there.

Also RE: Henry not being queercoded, that’s honestly a whole other post on its own, but he definitely has significant queercoding- or do you just think that the rant about hating the standard stereotypical reproduction/expectations for relationships while standing in a room full of rainbows and then going on to talk about being “broken” and sent to a lab that has very strong conversion therapy parallels (with Brenner also being extremely similar to Robert Galbraith Heath but again that’s all a big post on its own but is something I’d be happy to expand on when I’m not literally standing outside waiting for a skunk to leave the front porch so I can go inside LMAO) and being extremely paralleled to Will, one of the main gay characters, was all a coincidence?

And also, it’s interesting that you’re accusing me of being presumptuous and too defensive when you’re the one who came in here making assumptions about me and calling me stupid. Of course I’m defensive sometimes- you would be too if you were being called an idiot rapist apologist and being told that your stupid theories are stretches every other day, all from people who haven’t even taken the time to try and approach those theories with an open mind.

I’ve responded constantly and politely and non-defensively to posts that are genuine questions or genuine criticism of my theories, such as in this post. But I don’t see why I should be expected to extend that same courtesy to people who can’t even extend me the courtesy of reading the posts they’re critiquing.

#stranger things #henry creel #edward creel #st anons #em rants

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youssefguedira · 2 years ago

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ok so i just discovered your tog lotr au and i LOVE it, it works so well. i wanted to ask, how did andy and quynh fall in love/get together in this au?

this ask was sent a while ago oops but it goes a little something like this

Quynh is young, the equivalent of twelve years old in human terms, when she sees Andromache of Scythia, heir to the throne of Gondor, for the first time, though she does not know yet who Andromache is, nor who she will become.

She's heard mention of something happening for days, yet everyone has been carefully vague about what exactly it is around her, and whenever she has asked directly the only answer she's received is usually along the lines of you'll understand when you're older. Suffice to say, it's been frustrating.

Of course, she has another plan.

She'd been the one to discover the place not long ago, a section of roof that, when she climbs up and lies flat on her stomach, provides a near-perfect view of the path that leads to Rivendell's gate and into the courtyard. So on the day that the something is supposed to occur, that's where she goes.

Nico's already waiting for her when she arrives, shuffled close enough to the edge to make room for her, looking out over the courtyard. He’s ten in human terms, shorter than Quynh, a fact which frustrates him endlessly, and Quynh’s best friend in the world. “I think they’re arriving soon,” he says as she climbs up. “Whoever’s coming.”

“Who do you think it is?” She hauls herself up properly to lie beside him.

“I don’t know. Other elves, maybe? From Mirkwood?”

“They would have told us,” she points out. They would have told him, at least - he’s from Mirkwood, after all, even if he’s lived in Rivendell for almost his entire life.

“Maybe,” Nico says. “Wait. I see something.”

He points towards the furthest point on the path that they can see from here, where sure enough, two horses are approaching, cloaked figures atop their backs, one of them noticeably smaller than the other.

It’s not until they arrive in the courtyard where four elves - including Quynh’s father - are waiting to greet them, and lower the hoods of their cloaks, that their faces become visible. They’re similar in appearance, both with long black hair pulled back in neat braids and pale eyes, dressed in simple leather armour, and with rounded ears instead of pointed. Human, then. The taller of the two bears a long, double headed axe strapped to her back. The smaller is perhaps Quynh’s age in human terms, perhaps a little bit younger.

“What are they doing here, do you think?” Nico whispers. Quynh shushes him, gaze fixed on the new arrivals as they dismount their horses, the younger one coming to stand beside the elder, who must be a relation, perhaps her mother. The elder is speaking, but Quynh cannot make out the words.

Quynh’s father nods, and then steps aside, beckoning to the girl, who steps forward, looking back only once at the elder. She smiles, sadly. Quynh’s father places a hand on the girl’s back and says something to her, then the two of them turn and walk towards Rivendell, leaving the elder behind.

Quynh watches until they disappear from sight.

“Who do you think she is?” Nico wonders aloud.

“I don’t know,” Quynh responds.

-----------------------

Quynh actually meets Andromache, heir of Isildur, for the first time almost a year later. She and Nico are largely kept away from her for the first year of her time in Rivendell, either by their own obligations that keep them out of mischief, in her father’s words, or by the older elves finding ways to redirect their curiosity. Quynh never forgets about their strange guest, but after the first few months, she stops actively trying to seek her out.

She and Nico are in the gardens, having escaped their duties for a brief time, though Quynh’s certain it won’t be long before someone comes looking for them. Nico is crouching on the bank of the stream while Quynh perches on the edge of the bridge, scouring the ground for pebbles which he slips in his pocket, his slingshot clutched in the other hand, chewing on his lip in concentration.

“I bet you can’t hit that branch from the bridge,” Quynh says, leaning back on her hands and swinging her legs.

Nico looks up, never able to resist a challenge. “Which one?”

“That one.” She points to a small branch a good distance away - too far for Nico to hit, she’s sure. He’s a good shot, but she’s better.

Nico tilts his head to one side, calculating as he studies it. “What do I get if I win?” She knows he’s only pretending to be considering it - they’re both far too competitive to let a challenge slide. Frighteningly similar, her father had told them once.

“Satisfaction,” Quynh says. At Nico’s unimpressed look, she holds up the bundle she’d wrapped carefully in cloth earlier. “And this, I suppose.” It’s a roll of bread she’d stolen from the kitchen, filled with sweet honey.

(They’ll share it, she knows, regardless of who wins. They always do. But it’s fun to pretend.)

“All right,” Nico says, and Quynh grins. He positions himself at the spot Quynh picks, the very center of the bridge, and takes aim.

The pebble flies through the air and misses by some considerable distance, dropping into the stream with a neat splash. Nico curses while Quynh laughs. “I told you you couldn’t hit it.”

“I bet I could,” a new voice says from behind them. Quynh and Nico turn sharply towards the speaker.

The human girl is leaning against a tree, her arms folded.

“You’re welcome to try,” Nico responds. “What’s your name?”

Andromache looks at Quynh.

“Andromache,” she says, taking Nico’s previous spot on the bridge. “What about you?”

“Nicolò,” Nico says. “Of Mirkwood.”

“Quynh,” Quynh responds. The curious side of her is overjoyed to finally have learned something about the guest they’ve had for a year but never met, while the competitive side is bristling at her easy confidence. Nico passes Andromache the slingshot, and she takes aim.

The pebble misses narrowly, but misses nonetheless. Andromache unleashes a colorful string of curses in both Elvish and the human language, many of which Quynh has never heard before. She smiles despite herself and holds out her hand. “My turn.”

Quynh takes longer to fire than Andromache or Nico had, carefully sizing up the distance and the height before she shoots - and hits the branch, causing it to shake from the impact. She whoops in victory, while Nico sighs heavily, largely more for show than any sense of real disappointment. Andromache just watches Quynh curiously, her blue eyes piercing.

“I win,” Quynh declares.

“I’ll beat you next time,” Nico mutters.

“Of course you will,” Quynh says sweetly, not meaning a word of it. She unwraps the honey roll and, even though she’d won, breaks it into three, passing a piece to Nico and then offering one to Andromache.

Andromache looks down at it almost disbelievingly before looking back up at Quynh.

“Are you going to take it or not?” Quynh asks.

Andromache takes it.

-----------------------

After that point, the three of them become near-inseparable: Andromache fits perfectly into Quynh and Nico’s lives, and they quickly discover that the amount they can get away with becomes significantly more when there is a third person in their group to help them. The terror of Rivendell, Quynh’s father calls them, shaking his head but smiling fondly when they get caught yet again.

Andromache is always vague about exactly why she’d come to Rivendell, but the way she speaks about it suggests it had been out of necessity. Quynh never pushes, and Andromache never offers any further information.

When Nico’s training as a healer means he’s busier than usual and therefore kept away from her by one thing or another for most of the time, Quynh spends her time with Andromache, wandering the gardens of Rivendell, sparring (Andromache is good, but not better than Quynh is, and she wins most of the time), or simply talking for hours on end. Andromache is an incredible storyteller, and funny, and smart.

It feels only inevitable that, as the three of them move from childhood into adulthood, that Quynh falls for her.

It’s gradual at first, a slow build and then a sudden, sharp realisation that of course that’s what this is, of course she loves her, how could she not?

She never breathes a word to anyone, but Nico figures it out quickly - he’s her brother in all but blood, after all, has known her since they were too young to remember. They’re by the stream in one of their now-rare moments of free time, Nico sitting with his back against a tree and reading, Quynh standing on the bank. She is supposed to be practicing her spellwork; she is completely distracted. Her current position gives her a perfect line of sight to the courtyard, in which Andromache is sparring with one of the guards, axe in hand, her movements beautifully precise, as if she’s dancing. She’s beautiful, laughing as she dodges her opponent’s next blow, and Quynh is weak.

“Your mind is not where it should be,” Nico says, still largely focused on his book.

“Oh, shut up,” Quynh tells him half-heartedly, watching Andromache push her hair back from her face with a wide grin.

He looks up at her over the top of his book, follows her gaze, and it’s in that moment that he puts two and two together, his eyes widening. “Wait, you-”

“Not a word, Nico,” she says, but it’s too late.

“How long?” he asks. She finally forces herself to look away from the courtyard and back at him.

“I don’t know,” she answers. “Forever, it feels like.”

“Forever, huh?” he teases. She sits down on the grass near him and uses the proximity to kick him in the shin. He yelps.

“You mustn’t say anything, understand?” she says. “Nothing. I don’t want her to know.”

“Not even if-” he begins, but relents when she gives him a sharp look. “Okay. I will not say anything,” he says, serious, and she knows he won’t, even if he teases her about it. She loves him for it. “But I think that you should,” he adds. “Who knows? Maybe she’s been secretly in love with you this whole time, too.”

Quynh doesn’t respond, doesn’t want to talk about that possibility any further. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“And you don’t?” Nico fires back, and the subject is dropped.

-----------------------

Andromache, chieftain of the Dunedain and the person Quynh has been hopelessly in love with for years, leaves them when she is 20 years old. By that point, both Quynh and Nico are almost adult elves, halfway through their respective training, and still referred to by Quynh’s father as the terror of Rivendell. Some things don’t change.

Andromache tells them herself, one evening when they’re perched on the roof - the ledge is too small to fit the three of them, especially now that they’re not children any more, but they’ve adapted. The stars are bright overhead, and it’s late enough that Quynh’s fairly sure Nico has fallen asleep. Andromache is beside her, curled close for warmth, and the sight of her gilded in starlight makes Quynh’s heart skip a beat. She’s resting her head on Andromache’s shoulder, halfway to sleeping herself.

“I spoke to your father a few days ago,” Andromache says, drawing Quynh from her thoughts.

“Hm?” Quynh asks sleepily. Maybe she’s more tired than she’d thought.

“I think I have to leave,” Andromache says then, and Quynh sits up, suddenly very awake.

“What?”

“If I’m ever going to become- the person I’m supposed to be,” Andromache says, “I can’t stay here forever. I wouldn’t leave for good, just… for a little while.”

Quynh had never even considered the possibility that Andromache would leave. She understands why, but. She hadn’t expected it.

“Where will you go?” Nico asks, sitting up. Not asleep, then, though he blinks and rubs at his eyes as if he hadn’t been far from it.

“I don’t know,” Andromache says. “But I’ll come back.”

Quynh believes that, even if she’s not sure of anything else.

Andromache leaves exactly a week later, the same way she’d arrived so many years ago - on horseback, long hair braided back, with her axe strapped to her back just like her mother had had. Quynh watches her go as part of the group sent to bid her farewell, wearing the silver circlet that marks her as her father’s daughter. She lingers there for a long time after Andromache disappears from sight. Nico stays beside her and doesn’t say a word, his hand gentle on her back, reminding her he’s there.

-----------------------

Andromache of Scythia, future king by fate, wanderer by choice, returns to Rivendell ten years to the day after she had left.

The ten years she’s gone aren’t lonely. Quynh has Nico, of course, and her training. She travels, on occasion, sometimes with Nico, sometimes by herself. She is given more and more responsibility within Rivendell. She doesn’t forget Andromache, but she doesn’t spend all of her time waiting for her, either.

She misses her, though, so much it aches sometimes. Andromache never writes, and Quynh doesn’t expect her to - they’d never talked about that, but it doesn’t stop Quynh from wanting to hear from her, if only to know that she lives still, and is well.

Ten years later though, Quynh finds herself once again in the courtyard, waiting with her heart in her throat. It’s been so long, and she has changed so much, yet she still loves Andromache more than she knows what to do with.

“You’re nervous,” Nico says beside her.

“I’m not,” Quynh lies, even though she knows full well he can see the way she’s fidgeting with her sleeve. “It has been a long time.”

Whatever else Nico was going to say is cut off by the sound of hooves in the distance, far away but growing closer with every beat of Quynh’s heart. And then she’s there, Andromache, not cloaked this time but riding towards them like the king she was born to be, head held high, already smiling. Her hair is cropped short, which is new, and she’s dressed in human clothes, leather bracers on her wrists. She’s still the most beautiful thing Quynh’s ever seen.

“Andromache of Scythia,” Quynh’s father says. “Welcome. I believe we have much to speak of.”

Andromache dismounts and approaches, her eyes flicking to Quynh for just a moment. “We do.”

“Come, then,” Quynh’s father says. Just like he had all those years ago, he gestures for her to follow, and she does.

Quynh doesn’t see her again until later. They’re in the gardens, she and Nico, and Quynh is not-so-subtly watching the treeline for any sign of Andromache.

“What if-” she begins, but Nico cuts her off before she can start.

“Nothing is wrong,” he says. “It’s Andromache, Quynh. She’s our friend.”

“It’s been ten years.”

“And we knew her for almost that long before that. Relax. Stop pacing. And maybe you’ll be able to stop pining after-”

Nico will forever deny that the sound he makes upon being pushed into the stream is a shriek. Quynh knows better. It’s really not all that deep, and he knows it, but he glares at her anyway as she laughs.

Andromache finds the two of them like that, Nico sitting waist deep in the stream and trying very valiantly to look angry, Quynh laughing so hard she has to lean back against a tree. “What did Nico do this time?” she calls, and Quynh freezes in place.

Andromache’s grinning as she approaches, and Nico scrambles to his feet, and then she’s there, pulling Quynh into a hug, and all Quynh can really do is cling to her - she’s missed her.

“It’s good to see you,” Andromache says warmly when she pulls back, reaching up to trace Quynh’s braids. “You look good.”

“So do you,” Quynh says. She runs her fingers through Andromache’s now-short hair. “This suits you.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Andromache says. Nico clears his throat, as if to remind them both he’s still there.

“I just remembered,” Nico says, entirely un-subtle, “there was, ah, something I needed to finish. I’ll see you both later.” It is, perhaps, the worst excuse she’s ever heard him make up. She’ll make fun of him for it later - for now, she’s distracted.

He leaves them alone, and suddenly there’s nothing keeping Quynh from saying everything she’s wanted to for the past ten years (and more). The prospect is both thrilling and absolutely terrifying.

Andromache is the first one to break the silence. “I brought you something,” she says, reaching into her pocket. “Spent some time with the dwarves, learned how to work with metal.”

She opens her fist, and lying in her palm is a silver pendant, sparkling in the sunlight: not quite circular, a white jewel like a drop of starlight circled by a band of silver, beautifully engraved. Quynh takes it, holds it up to the light to watch how it catches it. “You made this?” she whispers.

“And this,” Andromache says. This time, she pulls a dagger from her belt, its hilt decorated with engravings that match those of the necklace, another gem embedded within it.

“They’re beautiful,” Quynh tells her.

Andromache looks almost nervous, which feels unthinkable. “I wasn’t sure if- it’s been a long time,” she says. “I wanted to write, but I didn’t know if you would want-”

“It would have been welcome,” Quynh says. “You will always be welcome.”

For a long while, Andromache is silent. Then, “May I?” she asks, taking the necklace back.

Quynh melts, winding one arm around Andromache’s neck and the other around her waist, presses close until there’s barely any space between them. Andromache cards her fingers through Quynh’s hair, runs her hand along Quynh’s spine. When they part - because, it seems, they do still need to breathe - it takes Quynh a moment to open her eyes.

Quynh nods and turns around. Andromache’s fingers brush her neck lightly as she fastens the necklace’s clasp, and Quynh closes her eyes, gathering her courage - what for, she doesn’t exactly know, only that she has to do something.

When she turns around, Andromache is watching her with something unreadable in her eyes. “I missed you,” she says. Neither of them move; Quynh barely breathes. Then, finally, Andromache mutters something under her breath Quynh can’t quite catch, leans in, and kisses her.

They should talk about it. They will have to talk about it at some point. But then Andromache smiles like the sun, and all Quynh can do is kiss her again.

-----------------------

(“Something you needed to finish?” Quynh mutters to Nico at dinner that evening. “Really, Nico? That’s the best you had?”

“It worked, no?” Nico points out, gesturing to Andromache beside her. Right now, she’s talking to someone else, but her hand is resting on Quynh’s knee under the table, and Quynh’s never been happier.

“I suppose,” Quynh concedes. Nico grins.

“And now, maybe I will get a break from your pining,” he continues. Quynh kicks him lightly under the table, because, well. Some things don’t change.

She loves him, really.)

#neon answers #anonymous #neon writes #tog lotr au #this one contains a lot of quynh and nicky bc their relationship in this au means a lot to me but yea #the necklace is a rough combination of arwen's and quynh's in tog. i dont know how well i achieved this but i had a go #this is posted with the caveat that this au's canon is subject to change based on me or mary going hey this would be cool-#but in my head its something like this. feat nico and quynh's endless competitiveness #userlyde #actual answer: andy is fostered in rivendell when quynh is a kid theyre friends (she quynh and nicky grow up together)#n friends to lovers stuff. but they dont get together til after andy's Middle Earth World Tour #not mentioned: all the experimental weapons andy made for nicky #have you seen that video with all the different axes. yeah that was andy during her year or so with the dwarves #(joe not present during this time. off barding)#elf aging speed has been messed with bc honestly idk where to start with that #so all ages are given in human terms #i think andy also ages slower bc shes a dunedain #but i dont actually know. this fic is for the vibes tolkien fans dont look too close #the old guard #andromaquynh #person who forgot main tags exist

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separatist-apologist · 3 years ago

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Lucien Vanserra + The Villain Theory & Why the Mating Bond Is Not Fake

I've been thinking about this for a while and I've decided I want to debunk this because of all the *insert character that is definitely not the villain becoming a secret villain*, Lucien is most definitely not it.

The theory, according to tiktok, is that Lucien is a secret schemer who has tricked everyone, including Elain, into believing they are mates for undefined, suspicious reasons likely related to Koschei. I find this unlikely considering his "father" is ALSO scheming with Koschei and Lucien likely has some awareness of this considering how often Eris is suddenly hanging around.

This is so long. Everything is under the cut.

However, lets pretend he doesn't. There is consistent, contextual proof that Lucien a) could not make up a mating bond even if he wanted to and b) everyone would know if he had.

Starting in ACOTAR, Tamlin tells Feyre the story of Lucien. On page 160, Tamlin says:

"Lucien said he didn't care she wasn't one of the High Fae, that he was certain the mating bond would snap soon and that he was going to marry her and leave his father's court to his scheming brothers."

Followed up on page 161, Tamlin adds:

"...his father has never apologized and his brothers are too frightened of me to risk harming him. But he has never forgotten what they did to her...even if he pretends he has."

That's ACOTAR. I know SJM likes to change things on a whim, but foundationally, this is Lucien's character and across all five books, it never changes. Lucien is still haunted by Jesminda and the mating bond he lost. He firmly believes, if we believe Tamlin to be a reliable narrator (and we should, as Lucien backs Tamlin's opinion up in his private thoughts. It is also worth noting that if Lucien has a villain origin story, it begins right here, the moment his father beheads Jesminda. To assume he's the villain, we ought to believe that he's been scheming non-stop for at least 200 years (since he's like, 300ish?) and to what end? To kill Beron? He'd have been scheming far longer than Elain was alive.

Moving right along to ACOMAF, on page 619, Amren says:

"And the bond," Amren breathed, Cassian's blood shining on her hands as she slowed its dribbling.

Mor said, "She asked the king to break the bond. He obliged."

I thought I might be dying- thought my chest might actually be cleaved in two.

"Thats impossible," Amren said. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"The kind said he could do it."

"The king is a fool," Amren barked. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"No, it can't," I said.

This is from Rhys' perspective. A mating bond can't be broken with magic- it's forever. Even rejected or in death (we'll get there), the mating bond is for life. Assuming Lucien's mate was Jesminda, even if it hadn't snapped in death, she would STILL be his mate and death would not have changed that. Neither would any magic Lucien, a spell-cleaver, might possess.

Let's also consider Elain, who has no reason to lie and every reason to call Lucien out regarding the bond. In ACOMAF, page 608, we see this:

"...Elain was staring over Nesta's shoulder. At Lucien-whose face she had finally taken in. Dark brown eyes met one of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain-

Lucien's hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, "You're my mate."

It's Elain who sees him first, who feels the mating bond mere seconds before Lucien. Why choose Elain, if you're going to pick a fake mate for your scheme? The argument is generally that she has the least amount of knowledge about Faeries and no interest in that education but how would Lucien know that? Feyre told Lucien nothing about her sisters (she told Ianthe instead), which means he would have had to guess. Given that Elain fights being put in the Cauldron, there's nothing contextually in that moment that suggests that Lucien somehow knew she was the easier sister to fool.

It's also worth noting that Lucien, up until that moment, still genuinely believes Jesminda was his mate. If he's the villain, having a fake mate makes no sense to the story or his plans.

Feyre has been inside Lucien's mind twice. Once in ACOMAF (pg. 95):

"Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless-"

And again in ACOWAR when Lucien meets Elain for the first time. On page 249, we get the best description of what Lucien is feeling regarding the mating bond, all through Feyre's perspective:

"Too thin. She must not be eating at all. How can she even stand?

The thoughts flowed through his head, one after another. His heart was a raging, thunderous beat, and he didn't dare move from his position a mere five feet away. She hadn't yet turned toward him, but the ravages of her fasting were evident enough.

Touch her, smell her, taste her-

The instincts were running a river. he fisted his hands at his sides."

"But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda."

"Elain had been...thrown at him."

"That circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family...It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug."

"But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the senses chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours."

"She looked away- towards the windows. 'I can hear your heart,' she said quietly. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing and drained his tea even as it burned his mouth.

'When I sleep,' she murmured, 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. 'Can you hear mine?'

He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, 'No, lady. I cannot.'"

These are Lucien's thoughts from Feyre's perspective. He has no idea she's in his head, so why is he thinking all those things? Why feel guilt that he finds her beautiful or that he'd once said all the same things to Jesminda that he thinks about Elain? Why care about her well-being? We know mates are driven to protect and Lucien's very first thoughts about Elain are ones of concern. She's not eating, she's too thin, how can she possibly stand? Not, hahaah my evil planned worked and I totally have an in with the Night Court (which, why would he need considering Tamlin is currently allied with Hybern and Lucien could have taken full advantage of that?).

Additionally, assuming Lucien is faking the mating bond for some poorly defined, evil plot, why keep such distance? Why not force himself on her? That's the claim, right? That he's forcing her to be with him which is amusing because in ACOFAS, Lucien has some thoughts on page 162"

"'How is she?'

'Better. She makes no mention of her abilities. If they remain.'

'Good. But is she still...' A muscle flickered in his jaw. 'Does she still mourn him?'"

First question he asks. "How is she?" Followed by if she's still in love with her ex-fiance. And I can hear the screaming now, "HE ASKED BECAUSE HE WANTS TO OWN HER" but like, on page 165 of ACOFAS, we get:

"I can't stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes."

Truly a stupid plan to fake a mating bond with a person that is causing you to be eaten alive with guilt and longing. We know the second he's around her, Lucien's is overwhelmed with the mating instincts and feels guilt over Jesminda, which is why he spends little time around Elain. He also tells Feyre, on that same page, he doesn't want his life to be financed by Rhysand. Feyre practically begs Lucien to move back to Velaris, to work for her full time, to let her set him up somewhere nicer and Lucien declines it all. If his plan hinged on getting closer to the IC, to using Rhys' resources, why tell her no? Why not take her up on it? Why not make him part of her life in a much more tangible way?

And finally, the dreaded scent of the mating bond. Feyre doesn't risk talking to Rhys when she's in Spring for fear of alerting everyone to the scent of the bond. Azriel, too, cannot stand the smell of it to the point he stands in the doorway during solstice rather than come in.

Ladies, Gentleman, and Non-binary pals of the jury, examine the evidence. For Lucien to be a villain, he has to KNOW that Feyre is a daemati before she does and both leave his thoughts unguarded while constantly assuming she MIGHT be picking through them. He also has to be able to control large amounts of people at the same time via the smell of the bond and Elain being able to feel it. When he tugs, she responds.

It would require everyone around them to be incredibly dumb. Feyre and Rhys basically share a mind and while they don't necessarily trust Lucien (unfairly imo), I firmly believe one of them would have picked up on a fake bond or Lucien's scheming.

Lucien wanted Jesminda, not Elain. If he decided to punish the world around him for the consistent pain he was enduring, he doesn't need Elain to achieve this. He's friends with Feyre. He has contacts all over Prythian. He didn't need to fake a mating bond, nor does it make any sense to do so. What they have is REAL.

And lastly, the bond can't be broken. Rejected, yes, broken no. Regardless if you think they'll keep it or not, they ARE mates and Lucien is NOT the villain who will be heroically slaughtered. They're awkward, they're uncomfortable, they have shit to work out but they ARE mates, and Lucien has proven over and over that all he wants is a home and goddamn peace and quiet.

#lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra meta #anti e*riel #antiv*ssien #anti el/riel #anti v/ssien #theories that are just not based in reality #but are probably interesting twists in a fanfic i wouldn't read

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cowboylikedean · 2 years ago

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my preliminary track by track

Lavender Haze: Not what I thought it would be, but somehow better??? she mentioned the engagement rumors!!! also like..... the chorus is so bouncy and I love it so much. It gives off nyd vibes to me in that I think this song is like a promise of commitment

Maroon: my first thought on my first listen was "is this a haylor song???? and then when she said "that's a fucking legacy" i was like "AHHHH” now though, I think it’s about Karlie. Whoever it’s about, I think it’s beautiful. When we got the title, my first thought was “Red but darker” and I still think that… it’s like… dirty red. and I need to flesh that out more, but I’m spending time with other songs and I’ll get back to Maroon.

Anti-Hero: I CRIED LIKE A BABYthe chorus, introducing herself as the problem!!! then oh my god calling her depression by its name!!!, daughter in law was interesting to me too.... the implication she would have a kid also its a fucking bop that made me want to die. It still does. Its so relatable and honest and genuine and I would die for her.

Snow on the Beach: the sweetest thing i’ve ever heard, that second verse transcends language.

You’re on Your Own Kid: To me, this song is about celebrating choices. it’s knowing you made your own choices, and no one made them for you. It’s knowing you’ll make your own choices again. And it’s learning to trust yourself and your choices. The uplifting way the end happens and everything swells… I just think it’s like…….. about growing into trusting yourself and I have a lot I want to dive into about it being track 5 specifically that I haven’t had the time to. but my first thoughts are that it’s track 5 because the thesis of this album is about choices

Midnight Rain: This is my favorite song after anti-hero. I love the alterations on her voice but also “I wanted that pain” is a lyric that will haunt me forever. But more than anything, this song really fleshed out the ttds/dorthea story and that contextualizes a lot of evermore for me. i think there’s so much to be said about her relationship with fame and her choices around that, which ties into yoyok. I just think this song provides rich context to her life and also normalizes her fame while discussing its abnormality. I have so much I could say

Question…?: Obvious haylor song that makes me endlessly happy to hear it. It’s remarkable to me that the haylor song Taylor writes looking back years later still doesn’t have any closure. and then she opens up the idea that everyone is second best in comparison to her for him and i just have so many feelings and most of it is just like KJAKLDJFLK THIS WOMAN WILL NOT LET THIS MAN JUST LIVE like she really was like “hey…. i’m the love of your life and you can’t have me…. KK BYE” like lol and she knows what she’s doing which is why she’s like “it’s just a question” like yeah it’s just a question that’s unnecessary!!! anyway, i’m glad she made the decision to poke that particular bear because i love hearing them write about each other. i hope he responds.

Vigilante Shit: She came for Scooter’s jugular. Anyway, I love this song. It’s so different from anything else she’s done and yet is 100% the same as mad woman and no body no crime. I haven’t spent the time with it I would need to spend to have more thoughts

Bejeweled: My first thought was that this is about Calvin or Jake. But the more I listen to it, the more it feels almost like she’s personified her depression and is singing to it. I LOVE the “i can still make the whole place SHIMMER” “I can still say I don’t REMEMBER” like it just sounds SO good!! I think this is going to be a song I use to personify my depression, whether that’s what she was doing or not.

Labyrinth: I need the lyrics in front of me and more time to feel this song the way I need to feel it…. But this THIS this…………. it’s the process of the healing she has been singing about the whole time… Daylight/the whole rep album/evermore. I can’t wait to listen to this in the middle of a breakdown and feel completely understood and have a direction. and that production on her vocals from midnight rain!! i love it!! also its soakljalkjlk the way it swells at the end and gets progressively lighter and happier…. IT’S ABOUT THE HEALING JOURNEY

Karma: I know that reddit hates the playful lyrics but i lOVE THEM!! “Karma is a cat purring on my lap cause it loves me” I NEED HER TO KNOW THAT THIS IS THE MOST INCREDIBLE THING I’VE HEARD!! It gives me the playful freedom/I’m moving on vibes that ibytam gives. And coming right after labyrinth… the two of these songs work in tandem to me. It’s about healing. I love this song

Sweet Nothings: I am so glad that it really is a love song about them they wrote together. “You say what a mind/this happens all the time” I love that! I’m going need a lot more time with it before I have more complex thoughts especially about “to you I can admit that I’m just too soft for all of it”

Mastermind: KLSJADFLKJASDKLF COWBOY LIKE ME HAS ITS MOMENT IN THE SUN I, again need to spend more time with it before I have more complex words… but it really feels, again like it’s about choices. She made the choices that led her here with Joe and she planned to love him forever. She saw him that first night she came home and wrote the barebones of Gorgeous (and the fucking reference!!!!JKljdlaskfjlkI CAN’T) and every choice after that made this all possible. And he made choices too and it made all of it happen. “No one wanted to play with me as a little kid” I WANT TO DIE and this song is just kjsadlfkjkl I don’t have the words. I just get overwhelmed with this song. I need more time before I can get it together lol

#midnights #taylor

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wickwrites · 4 years ago

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Wonder Egg Priority Episode 4: Boys’ and Girls’ Suicides Do Mean Different Things (But Not in the Way the Mannequins Want You to Think!)

So, let’s talk about this for a second. After I got over my initial knee-jerk reaction, I realized I wasn’t sure how to make sense of exactly what the mannequins were arguing for here. So let me rephrase their statements to make the argumentative structure more explicit: Because men are goal-oriented and women are not, because women are emotion-oriented and men are not, and because women are impulsive and easily influenced by others’ voices and men are not, boys’ and girls’ suicides mean different things – girls are more easily “tempted” by death, and therefore, more likely to require saving when they inevitably regret their suicide. While Wonder Egg Priority, so far, seems to agree with the vague version of the mannequins’ conclusion, namely that boys’ and girl’s suicides mean different things, it refutes the gender-essentialist logic through which that conclusion was derived.

The mannequins choose a decidedly gender essentialist approach in explaining the difference between girls’ and boy’s suicides; they argue that the suicides are different because of some immutable characteristic of their mental hard wiring (in this case, impulsivity, emotionality, and influenceability). Obviously, this is a load of bull, and Wonder Egg Priority knows it. The mannequins are not exactly characters we’re supposed to trust, seeing that they’re running a business that is literally based on letting these kids put themselves in mortal danger. As faceless adult men, they parrot and possibly represent the systems that force these girls to continue to be subjected to physical and emotional trauma (it’s probably more complicated than this, but four episodes in, it’s hard to say more). So, we’re probably supposed to take what they say with great skepticism. Also, the director, Shin Wakabayashi, has recently said that in response to these lines, Neiru was originally going to object, “When it comes to their brains, boys and girls are also the same,” (which unfortunately is not exactly true and is somewhat of an oversimplification, but the sentiment is there). While that line ultimately did not make it in, Neiru does reply with a confused and somewhat indignant, “What?!”, a reaction that gets the message across. Neiru is not a fan of gender essentialism, and as a (more) sympathetic character, we’re supposed to agree with her.

That is, the differences between boys and girls is not something inherent to their biology or character, but something constructed by culture and experience. This rejection of gender-essentialism is apparent in Wonder Egg Priority’s narrative, which takes a more sociocultural perspective on the difference between boys’ and girls’ suicides. It says, well of course boys’ and and girl’s suicides don’t mean the same thing, that’s the whole reason why we’re delving into the experiences specific to being a girl (cis or trans) or AFAB in this world – to show you how girls’ suicides are influenced by systems of oppression perpetuated by those in power (ie. the adult, in this specific anime).

And all the suicides we’ve seen up until now tie into that somehow. For instance, Koito is bullied by her female classmates who think that Sawaki is giving her special treatment. This is a narrative that comes up over and over again, in real life as well: that if a young girl is being given attention from an older man, then it’s her fault – that she must want it, or at least enjoy it somehow, and that it signifies a virtue (eg. maturity or beauty) on her part. And if Koito is actually being given such treatment by Sawaki, an adult man in a position of power over her, that is incredibly predatory.

And we all know that child sexual abuse is something that overwhelmingly affects girls, with one out of nine experiencing it before the age of 18, as opposed to one out of 53 boys (Finkelhor et al., 2014). Regardless of whether Sawaki was actually abusing Koito or if the students only thought that he was, Koito’s trauma is ultimately the result of this romanticized “love between a young girl and adult man, but not because the man is predatory, but because the girl has some enviable virtue that makes her desirable” narrative. Similarly, in episode 2, Minami’s suicide is driven by ideas related to discipline and body image in sports, which while not necessarily specific to female and AFAB athletes, is framed in an AFAB-specific way. For instance, take the pressure on Minami to “maintain her figure”. Certainly, male athletes also face a similar pressure, but we know that AFAB and (cis and trans) female bodies are subject to closer scrutiny and criticism. We know that young girls are more likely to suffer from eating disorders. And Wonder Egg Priority situates Minami’s experience as decidedly “about” AFAB experience when her coach accuses her change of figure due to her period as a character failing on her part.

Likewise, episode 3 delves into suicides related to “stan” culture, this fervent dedication to celebrities that is overwhelmingly associated to teenage girls. And Miwa’s story, in episode 4, explicitly shows how society responds to sexual assault. When Miwa does have the courage to speak up about her assault, she’s instantly reprimanded by basically everyone around her. Her father is fired because her abuser was an executive of his company. Her mother asks her why she couldn’t just bear with it, telling her that her abuser chose her because she was cute, as if that’s supposed to make her feel better about it. Wonder Egg Priority shows that this sort of abuse is a systemic problem, a set of rules and norms deeply engrained in a society and upheld by all adults, regardless of gender, social status, or closeness (to the victim). Wonder Egg Priority says that, yes, girls’ and boys’ suicides have different meanings, but it’s not due to some inherent difference between the two, but the hostile environment in which these girls grow up. Girls are not more easily “tempted” by death, they just have more societal bullshit to deal with.

But Wonder Egg Priority goes further than just showcasing how girls’ (and AFAB) experiences are shaped by sociocultural factors. The story also disproves the supposedly dichotomous characteristics that the mannequins use to differentiate girls and boys (i.e. influenceability/independence, impulsivity/deliberation, emotion-orientation/goal-orientation). If the mannequins are indeed correct, and that girls are just influenceable, impulsive, and emotional, you’d expect the girls in the story to be to be like such too. Except, they aren’t. Rather, they’re a mix of both/all characteristics. This show says that, certainly, girls can be suggestible, but they’re also capable of thinking for themselves. For instance, when Momoe asserts her own identity as a girl at the end of episode four, she rejects the words of those around her who insisted that she isn’t a girl. If she were as suggestible as the mannequins believe her to be, that would never have happened – she would have just continued believing that she wasn’t girl “enough”. But, she doesn’t because she is equally capable of making her own judgements. Likewise, Wonder Egg Priority shows that girls can be impulsive, but they can also be deliberate and pre-mediating. When Miwa tricks her Wonder Killer into groping her to create an opening for Momoe to defeat it, she’s not doing it out of impulse – it’s a pre-mediated and deliberate choice unto a goal. And Wonder Egg Priority continues, girls can be equally emotion oriented and goal oriented. Sure, the main girls are fighting because they have the goal of bringing their loved ones back to life, but those goals are motivated by a large range of emotions, from guilt to anger, grief, compassion, and love.

Being emotion-driven doesn’t mean you’re not goal-driven, and vice versa. In fact, in this case, being emotional drives these girls toward their goals. In other words, none of these traits that the mannequins listed are either “girl traits” or “boy traits”. Being one does not mean you can’t be the other, even if they seem dichotomous at first. Wonder Egg Priority’s diverse cast of multi-dimensional female characters allows it to undermine the mannequins’ conceptualization of gendered roles, refuting the idea that these (or any) character traits should be consider gendered at all.

As an underdeveloped side thought, I think Wonder Egg Priority’s blurring of gendered roles is also well-reflected in its style. There’s been a lot of talk about whether Wonder Egg Priority constitutes a magical girl series, and I think that’s an interesting question deserving of its own essay. Certainly, it does follow the basic formula of the magical girl story: a teenage heroine ensemble wielding magical weapons saves the day. But it also throws out a lot of the conventions you’d expect of a magical girl story – both aesthetically and narratively. Aesthetically, it’s probably missing the component that most would consider the thing that makes an anime a magical girl anime: the full body transformation sequence, complete with the sparkles and the costume and all that. Narratively, the girls are also not really magical girl protagonist material – they’ve got a fair share of flaws, have done some pretty awful things (looking at Kawai in particular; I still love you though), and aren’t exactly the endlessly self-sacrificing heroines you’d expect from a typical magical girl story. On the other hand, the anime also borrows a lot from shonen battle anime. We get these dynamic, well choreographed action sequences full of horror and gore, the focus on the importance of camaraderie between allies (or “nakama”, as shonen anime would call it) exemplified through all the bonding between the main girls during their downtime, and in the necessary co-operation to bring down the Wonder Killers. That said, this anime is not a shonen; the characters, types of conflicts, and themes are quite different from those that you’d find in a typical shonen. The bleeding together of the shonen genre and the magical girl genre, at the very least (and I say this because I think it does way more than just that), reflects Wonder Egg Priority’s interest in rebelling against conventional narratives about girlhood and gender.

#wonder egg priority #wonder egg priority analysis #wep #w.writing #my writing #anime analysis #analysis #anime #w.analysis

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vvitchering · 3 years ago

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I don’t suppose you’d write 28 for DinCobb?? :3 thank you for taking prompts!!

This is extremely late. I don't even remember when it was that I was taking these prompts but I definitely wanted to get to yours eventually. And it's eventually o'clock right now!

#28 "Mary me?"

Cobb doesn't pretend to understand the unique connection between Mandalorians and their armor. He knows next to nothing, aside from what he's learned firsthand: don't get caught wearing the stuff if you ain't one of them.

Then again, it's thanks to his unknowing armor-related sacrilege that he has the life he has now. The armor helped him save his home and his people. And it brought Din into his life; never mind that it brought him in guns blazing. That fateful day in the cantina and resulting battle against the Krayt feel light years away, now.

He remembers watching Din ride away out of his life as quickly as he had walked into it and feeling a peculiar sense of loss that only had a little bit to do with giving up the armor. Every glint on the horizon from then on set his heart beating faster and disappointment soured his stomach each time it wasn't the twin suns reflecting off polished beskar.

When the mandalorian did eventually return, helmetless and dead-eyed, it hadn't been a hardship to take him in. He's less the legendary mandalorian now and more Din Djarin, all soft brown eyes and shy smiles and dry humor.

He doesn't wear the armor like he used to. Most of it is packed safely away in a padded crate, traded in for proper desert attire. He still wears the piece that functions as a brace for his bum knee, for practical reasons, and the pauldron with the mudhorn signet, for less practical (but no less valid) reasons.

Cobb often wonders if it makes him a selfish asshole that he's the happiest he's been in decades because Din's misfortune lead him back to Tatooine. Back to him. They have a life together now. They're partners, in multiple ways. Din helps out defending and growing the town, providing valuable tactical and weapons knowledge as well as his skill with the Tuskan language.

He also does a damn good job keeping Cobb's bed warm at night.

All in all, things are good. Great, even. But there's still that nagging sense that Cobb is missing something important every time he catches the far away look in Din's eyes as he carefully polishes his few remaining pieces of armor.

Is he missing his previous life? Does he regret settling on this dust ball of a planet? Will Cobb wake up one day to find that Din Djarin has disappeared and the mandalorian has taken to the stars once again?

Cobb would never presume to tie him down. He's grateful for every day he gets to spend with Din, he truly is. He knows that when the day comes that Din packs up his box of beskar and leaves (and its most certainly a "when", not an "if"), more than a little bit of Cobb's tired old heart will go with him.

They're turning in for bed one evening when Din begins acting strangely. He's been fidgety and distracted all day, anxious in a way Cobb has never seen him be before. He keeps opening his mouth as if he wants to say something, then closing it again and turning away. He refuses eye contact and shies away when Cobb tries to touch him. He's constantly reaching up to rub at the mudhorn signit on his shoulder. Cobb suddenly feels like he's standing on the edge of a terrifying precipice. This must be it. This must be the night Din puts the rest of his armor back on and tells him he's leaving in the morning. This is the night the illusion of their happy life together finally shatters.

Cobb feels sick down to his core as he hears the unmistakable sound of beskar chiming as it's clasp is undone. He clenches his fist at his side and squeezes his eyes shut.

Only to snap them open in surprise as he feels Din approach and gently take his arm.

He's not wearing his armor. He's dressed in the same soft familiar sleep clothes he's worn to bed a hundred times. He looks resolved, determined, and only a touch nervous. He's holding his pauldron in one hand, the other still gently grasping Cobb's arm.

"What do you know about beskar?" Din asks, and his voice is quiet but steady.

"Not a lot. Just what you've told me. Mostly that's important to you. To, uh, to your people. Mandalorians." Cobb stutters out, confused by the strange question and unnerved by the entire situation.

Din smiles reassuringly and Cobb takes a breath.

"It is important. It protects us, strengthens us, unites us as a people, even scattered as we are. It binds us together. It's sacred."

The words sound strangely formal, like Din is reciting something.

"Sure," Cobb responds slowly. "'s why folks who ain't sworn your creed have no business wearing it. You made that plenty clear when we met that first time. What are you getting at?"

Din lifts the pauldron and presses it against Cobb's shoulder. It doesn't quite fit, it's made for Din's bulkier more muscular frame, but it feels warm with his residual body heat and Cobb can feel the weight of it through his thin shirt as Din holds it against him. Din is staring at him, a question hiding behind his dark eyes.

It protects us...

He can't be serious.

unites us...

This can't be what he thinks it is.

It binds us together.

"Cobb Vanth," Din says his name so reverently it makes tears spring into his eyes. His heart is beating so loud in his own ears it's a wonder he can hear anything at all over the sound.

"Marry me?"

Cobb feels like he's floating somewhere just above his body. He must be dreaming. He never wants to wake up, in that case. He'll just float here forever, replaying those two words endlessly.

The silence stretches on long enough that Din begins to visibly panic, curling his fingers under the pauldron to pull it back. Cobb snaps back to himself in an instant and slaps his own hand over Din's, stopping him from removing the piece of armor. Din is staring again, mouth slightly open, and Cobb loosens his grip slightly so they're both supporting the pauldron together.

The tears are flowing freely now, rolling down his cheeks in embarrassing streams because it's too much to bear, too much to keep inside. He's fit to burst with happiness.

"Yeah, yes, you son of a bitch. Had me worried sick you were gonna up and leave and here you are, making an honest man out of me."

Din looks a bit weepy himself as his panic morphs into relief and he laughs as he leans forward to press his forehead against Cobb's other shoulder.

"Huh, ol' Cobb Vanth getting hitched. It'll be the talk of the town."

Din's laughter is infectious and soon they're both laughing through their tears.

"Shut up or I'll take it back."

"Nah, see, this is mine now. No take backs. I got this the proper way, Mandalorian blessings and everything, and I'm holding onto it this time."

---

I wrote this all in one go without stopping so I apologize for any errors. Shout out to @chamomileteainabuttercup for being a good sport and listening to me ramble about dincobb stuff until I had ideas! And to @godtier1, I'm sorry this took 87 years!!!!! I hope you like it!

#dincobb #din/cobb #the mandalorian #mine #prompt fills #I'll clean this up and post it on ao3 maybe tomorrow if I have time!#yay first actual piece of fic in X amount of months!!!!

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highsviolets · 3 years ago

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INTERVIEW NO. 1: RACHEL @djarinsbeskar

hello hello! i am so happy to announce that rachel — aka the immense talent that is @djarinsbeskar — has agreed to be my first interviewee for this new series! thank you to rach and to each one of you for all of your support. to read more about the project, click here, and to submit an author, click here.

| why rachel? |

Rachel captured my imagination from the first time we interacted as mutuals-in-law. She’s bursting with energy and vivaciousness, with a current of kindness just underneath everything she does. Her work is no exception. Oftentimes gritty, raw, and exposing (in … ahem…more ways than one), Rachel challenges her readers to dig deeper into both the story and themselves. Her smut brings a particular fire as it’s laced with need, desire, and mutual trust that leads us deeper into the characters’ identities and how physical affection can mimic other forms of intimacy. She’s a tour de force in this fandom and an absolute joy.

| known for |

Engaging with and encouraging other authors, cultivating inspo posts, attention to world building & character development

| my favorites |

Stitches

Boxer!Din

Full Masterlist • Ko-Fi

| q & a |

When did you start writing? What was that project, and what was it like? Has that feeling or process ever changed over time? Why?

I can’t remember a time I wasn’t writing. I was an avid reader, as I think most writers are—and I remember, after picking up Lord of the Rings—that I could live so many lives, experience so many things, all from the pages of a book. I could make sense of the world through words and ink and paper. And it offered me a level of peace and clarity I wanted to share with others. So, I started writing.

My first project I remember to this day, was a short story about a dog. I had been so heartbroken when I learned that dogs were colourblind. I must have been about seven or eight at the time, and I was fixated on this idea that dogs couldn’t see the vibrant hues that made the world beautiful. It was something I wanted to change—and with all the righteous anger of a child not getting their own way, I sulked over the fact that I couldn’t. Until I wrote it down.

“How do dogs see colour?”

And much like my writing today, I answered myself.

“Dogs don’t need to see colour. Dogs smell colour.”

And so, I wrote a story, about a puppy being brought on different walks by its owner. And with every new street it walked down—colour bloomed with scent. Colours more beautiful and vibrant than we could ever hope to see with our eyes. And it gave me solace and helped me work through an emotion that – granted was immature and inconsequential – had affected me. To this day, I still smile seeing dogs sniffing at everything they pass on their walks. Smelling colour. It gave me the key to my favourite thing in life. I don’t think my process has changed much since then. Much of what I write is based on a skeleton plan, but I leave room for characters to speak and feel as they need to. I like to know the starting point and destination of a chapter—but how they get there, that still falls to instinct. I think I’ve found a happy medium of strict planning and winging it that suits me now—and hopefully it will continue to improve over time!

When did you start posting your writing, and on what platform? What gave you the push to do that?

I mean, fanfiction has always been part of my life. I think anyone who was growing up in the late 2000’s and early 2010’s found their way to fanfiction.net at some time or other. The wild west compared to what we have now! My first post was for the Lord of the Rings fandom on fanfiction.net. It was an anthology of the story told through the eyes of the steeds. Bill the Pony, Shadowfax—it was all very innocent. That was probably in 2010 when I was fifteen. I had been wanting to share writing for a long time but was worried about how it would be received. I didn’t really have a gauge on my level or my creativity and – one of the many flaws of someone with crippling perfectionism – I only ever wanted to provide perfection. That was a major inhibitor when I was younger. By wanting it to be perfect, I never posted anything. Until that stupidly cute LOTR fic. It was freeing to write something that no one but me had any interest in, because if I was writing for myself then there was no one to disappoint, right? And that was all it took. I had some pauses over the years between college and life and such, but I’ve never lost that mindset when it comes to posting.

What your favorite work of yours that you have ever written? Why is it your favorite? What is more important to you when considering your own stories for your own enjoyment — characters? fandom? spice? emotional development? the work you’ve put into it? Is that different than what you enjoy reading most in other people’s fics?

I don’t think it’ll come as much of a surprise when I say Stitches. While not original, I mean—it follows the plot of the Mandalorian quite diligently, it is the piece of work I really hold very close to my heart. Din Djarin as a character is what got me back into writing after what must have been five years? He inspired something. His manner, his personality—he resonated with me as a person in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. And gave me back a creative outlet I had been missing.

It’s funny to say out loud—but I wanted to give him something? I spent so long thinking about his character that half my brain felt like it belonged to him—how he reacted and responded to things etc. and of course, like every dreamy Pisces—I wanted to give him love and happiness. So, Stitches came along. Personally, when writing—it’s a combination of characters, emotional development and spice (I can’t help myself) and when we can follow that development. With Stitches, it’s definitely the spice that is the conduit for development—but I adore showing how the physical can help people who struggle to communicate emotions too complex for words.

I don’t usually read for Din, as most people know—but I do enjoy reading the type of work that Stitches is. Human, damaged—but still with an undercurrent of hope that makes me think of children’s books.

You said, “much like writing today, I answered myself.” Could you talk about that in relation to Stitches?

So, I’m endlessly curious, it has to be said. Especially about why people are the way they are. Why people do A instead of B. Why X person’s immediate thought went to this place instead of that place. And I’m rarely satisfied with superficial explanations. One of the most exciting parts of writing and fanfiction especially, is making sense of that why. There can be countless explanations, some that are content with what is seen on the surface and some that go deep and some that go even deeper still.

Stitches is almost a – very long winded and much too long – answer to the questions I was so intrigued by about Din Djarin, about the Mandalorian and about the Star Wars universe as a whole. I often wondered what happened to people after the Rebellion, the normal people who fought—the people in the background. What did they do next? Did some of them suffer from PTSD? What was the galaxy like right after the Empire fell? That first season of the Mandalorian answered some of those questions, but I wanted to know more. So, I created a reader insert who was a combat medic—and through her, I let myself answer the questions of what happened next.

Regarding Din as a character, I wanted to know what a bounty hunter with a code of honour would do in certain situations—what made him tick, what made hm vulnerable. I wanted to explore the discovery of his identity. Din Djarin didn’t exist after he was taken from Aq Vetina. He became a cog in a very efficient machine of Mandalorians—and it was safe there. I wanted to see what – or who – might encourage him to step into his own. Grogu was that person in a familial sense, but what about romantically? What about individually? There’s so much to explore with this man! So many facets of personality and nuances of character that make him so gorgeous to write and think about.

Talk to me about the Din Djarin Athletic Universe. How does Din as all of these forms of athlete play off who you see him as in canon?

The Athletic Universe! How I adore my athletes. Despite being in a modern setting, I have kept the core of Din’s character in each of them (at least I hope I have!). I like to divide Din’s character into three phases when it comes to canon because he’s not as immovable as people seem to think he is. We discussed this before, how I see Din as a water element—adaptable, but strong enough that he can be as steadfast as rock. But I digress, the first phase is the character we see in the first episode. Basically, before Grogu. There’s an aggressive brutality to Din when we see him bounty hunting. He works on autopilot and isn’t swayed by sob stories or promises. He has the covert but is ultimately separate. Those soft feelings he comes to recognise when he has Grogu are dormant – not non-existent – but they haven’t been nurtured or encouraged. This is the point I extracted Boxer!Din’s personality and story from.

Cyclist!Din on the other hand—is already a father, a biological father to Grogu. And his personality, I took from that moment in the finale of Season two where I believe Din’s transformative arc of character solidified. He was always a father to Grogu, but I do believe that moment where he removes his helmet is the moment, he accepts that role fully in his heart and mind. And that is why I don’t believe for a second, that removing his helmet was him breaking his Creed. In fact, I believe it was the purest act he could do in devotion to his Creed—to his foundling, to his son. The Cyclist!AU is very much the character I see canon Din having should Grogu have stayed with him. This single dad who isn’t quite sure how he got to where he is now—but does anything and everything for his child without thought. It’s a natural instinct for him, and I like exploring those possibilities with Cyclist!Din.

You also said, “he has the covert but is ultimately separate.” What does it take for him — and you — to get to that point of being ‘not separate?’

I mentioned this above, but one of the biggest interests I have in Din as a character is his identity. He’s a Mandalorian, he’s a bounty hunter, he’s the child’s guardian but those are all what he is, not who. I think Din is separate while being part of the covert because he doesn’t know. I don’t think anyone can really be part of something if they don’t know who they are or, they struggle with their identity. It’s curious to me—how you can deceive even yourself to mimic the standard set for the many. In the boxer verse, he identifies himself in relation to his boxing—and every part of his outward personality exhibits those qualities. But when he’s given a softer touch—an outlet of affection, and comfort—we see the softer side of him surface. It’s very much the same with Stitches Din. Identity is like anything, emotions—relationships, bodies. It needs nurturing to thrive, an open door—a safe space. At least, that’s what goes through my mind when I think of him.

Who is your favorite character to read?

Frankie because there are so many ways his character can be interpreted and there are some stellar versions of him that I think of at least once a day. Javi because he reminds me of kintsugi-- golden recovery, broken pottery where the cracks are highlighted with gold. I also adore reading for Boba Fett, Paz Viszla and the clones!

Is there anything else you want your readers to know about you, your writing, or your creative process?

Hmm... only that I am quite literally a gremlin clown who is always here to chat Din, Star Wars, literature, book recs and anything else under the sun! I like to hear people's stories, their opinions etc. it helps me see things from alternative points of view and can truly help the writing process! Other than that, I think I can only thank readers for putting up with my ridiculously long chapters and rambling introspection. Thank you for indulging me always! ❤️

#pedro pascal #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #djarinsbeskar #chat with cris #author interview series #tuserdaniela #userastrid #usernobie #userhai #pedrostories

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years ago

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Attachment Issues - Fred Weasley

Title: Attachment Issues Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Fred’s not quite ready to leave his daughter to go back to work, so he has to find a creative way to keep her with him. A/N: just some more Dad!Fred fluff because I’m soft for it. This isn’t in anyway related to my dad!fred series, just something cute I couldn’t stop thinking about! Tags: @feltondarling @pandaxnienke @raerae27 @thefifthweasley

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“Figured I would find you here,” Y/N says softly as she rests against the door jamb of the nursery.

Fred looks up at his wife for a brief moment, before refocusing his attention on the bundle of blankets in his arms. Their daughter is just barely a month old, and Fred’s heart feels as if it’s melting out of his chest as he watches her blink up at him. “Gotten that predictable, have I?”

Y/N chuckles as she steps further into the room, taking a seat on the floor in front of Fred. “I’m afraid so, love. That little girl has had you wrapped around her finger since the moment she came into this world.”

Fred rolls his eyes fondly, knowing that Y/N is right. When they first found out they were expecting Fred had told everyone he didn’t mind what they had, as long as they inherited his love of pranks. But deep down he had hoped it would be a girl, a little princess for him to spoil. He cried endlessly the day she was born, and the only time he would put her down is when Y/N would demand a turn. Everyone loves to tease him, and tell him that Electra turned him soft, but he doesn’t care. Becoming a Dad has made him feel whole, and he wants to make sure his daughter never doubts how much he loves her.

“Well so does her Mother so there’s no surprise there,” Fred teases, nudging Y/N’s leg with his foot. “I’d go to the ends of the earth for both of you.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything and just sits there watching Fred for a moment. His eyes are soft as he looks down at their daughter, and they’re filled to the brim with pure love and adoration. Watching Fred become a Dad has made Y/N fall even more in love with him, something she never thought was possible. Whenever Y/N starts to feel overwhelmed or she begins to doubt herself Fred is always right there beside her to lend a helping hand and remind her how wonderful she is. He’s right there with her during every late night feeding, he’s always willing to change the dirty diapers and no matter how tired he is, he’s always the first one out of bed the second Electra begins to fuss.

Y/N watches as Fred pulls their daughter closer to his chest so he can press a kiss to her forehead. “What’s on your mind, Freddie?” Y/N hadn’t heard Electra cry, so she knows that Fred snuck out of bed and into the nursery not to comfort their daughter, but so that she could comfort him.

“I’m not ready yet,” Fred says quietly. He doesn’t offer more information, but he knows that Y/N will understand.

“Fred,” Y/N says softly, standing up. She waits for Fred to adjust his position before taking a seat on his lap, one of her arms winding around his neck while the other strokes their daughter’s cheek. “I love having you here with us. But George needs you too.”

Fred sighs, yet again Y/N is right. Before Electra was born Fred and George had many conversations about him taking some time off so that he could be at home with her and Y/N. George was gracious enough to give Fred an entire month off. George had agreed to take over all the responsibilities of running the store day to day, as long as Fred would take care of most of the paperwork, that way Fred could stay home with Y/N and Electra, but still help George out. Fred has been to the joke shop a few times since Electra was born, but he always brought her with him. It gave him a chance to check up on things and it gave Y/N the chance to have a few baby free moments. But now it’s time to go back to work full time, and Fred is dreading the thought of leaving Electra.

“I know I have to go, and I do miss being at the shop. But this month has gone by so fast. I need more time.” Electra’s little fist pops out of her blanket and Fred leans forward to press a few soft kisses to it. “I can’t leave her yet.”

Y/N starts to play with the hair at the base of Fred’s neck, leaning forward to press a kiss to his temple. “I know, love. Having you home this past month has been amazing and getting to experience every moment of this with you is something I’ll always be thankful for. But we gotta start getting back to normal, Freddie. Even if that means you’re gone during the day.”

Fred finally looks away from the baby in his arms so he can press a sweet kiss to Y/N’s lips. “And you’ll be okay here? Without me?”

“Of course, Freddie,” Y/N reassures, kissing him again. “Having you home is great, but you belong at the shop with George. You’ve gotta be dying to get back there. I’ve seen you, scribbling all your ideas down in your little notebook,” she teases. “Besides, if you stay home any longer you’ll get out of practice and then who’s gonna teach Electra to be a master pranker?”

Electra makes a cooing noise at that, almost as if she’s agreeing with her mother, and it puts Fred at ease. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“Of course, that’s why you married me isn’t it?” Y/N kisses Fred slowly, using it as a distraction so she can slip her arm under the baby and slowly cradle her into her own chest. “Now go get ready. You don’t want to be late!”

Fred glares at Y/N as she walks away with Electra, his chest already feeling empty from their absence.

“I’m home!” Fred announces as he lands in their fireplace. Being back at the shop felt wonderful, and even though his heart felt heavy in his chest, he managed to have an amazing first day back. But now he’s home and all he wants to do is kiss his wife and hold his daughter close. He dusts himself off as he heads over to the bassinet they keep in the lounge, and the hopeful smile drops from his face when he finds it empty.

“Where are you, love? I wanna see my girls,” he calls out, heading towards the kitchen.

“Gotta come and find us, Freddie,” Y/N teases with a laugh.

Fred rolls his eyes as he pushes the kitchen door open and he immediately comes up behind Y/N and wraps his arms around her waist. “Found you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her neck. “What’s my prize?”

“A kiss.” Y/N tilts her head back and Fred presses their lips together, though they’re both smiling too much for it to be considered a kiss. “You have a good day?”

Fred hums, but he’s too busy watching Electra to answer. Y/N is wearing some kind of piece of fabric, and their daughter is swaddled up inside of it, fast asleep. “How is she so cute even when she’s sleeping?” Fred whispers, reaching out to gently rub her cheek. Electra makes a noise in her sleep, her head instinctively turning towards Fred’s touch. Fred’s heart melts, and he feels the tension in his chest fall away.

“I know right? Who would have thought at oaf like you could create something so perfect?” Y/N teases. She chuckles when Fred pouts at her, and she leans up to kiss it away. “You didn’t miss us too much, did you?”

Fred releases Y/N from his grip so she can continue cooking dinner, watching in awe as their daughter continues to sleep soundly against his chest. “I missed you terribly. Could barely even function,” Fred jokes. “What’s that thing you’re wearing? Don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”

“Some muggle thing Hermione gave me, it’s called a baby wrap I think. It’s basically just a long piece of fabric you tie around yourself for the baby to sit in. That way you can still get that close contact but still move around,” Y/N explains. “And the reason you’ve never seen it is because you’re a baby hog, so I never needed it before.”

“Hey, I’m not a baby hog!” Fred pouts. He watches Y/N shake her head with a chuckle, an idea forming in his head.

The next morning Fred wakes up a little bit earlier than normal and does his best to get ready for work without making any noise, so Y/N doesn’t wake up and catch him in the act. Once he’s dressed he grabs the baby wrap from the chair in the corner of their room and tiptoes into the nursery.

By the time Fred has figured out how to properly secure the wrap around him it’s nearly time for him to leave. He’s already fed and changed Electra, and he’s standing in the kitchen packing her bag when he hears Y/N start to come down the stairs.

“Do you have the baby? Because if not she’s learned how to teleport,” Y/N says with a laugh as she comes into the kitchen. “Why are you wearing the wrap?”

Fred turns around, a grin on his face. “Because I’m taking Electra to work with me,” he answers casually. He hooks the diaper bag on his shoulder and heads over to Y/N. “Say goodbye to Mummy.”

“Wait, hold on.” Y/N grabs Fred’s wrist to keep him from leaving the kitchen. “What do you mean you’re taking her to work with you, Fred? You’re just gonna wear her all day?”

Fred shrugs. “Why not? I charmed the wrap so none of the noise of the shop will bother her, she’ll sleep most of the day anyway and I know her feeding schedule. I’ll keep her bottles in George’s fridge and I can take her upstairs or in the office if she gets fussy.”

Y/N opens her mouth like she’s going to say something before shutting it again. “Well you’ve clearly thought this through, and I can’t think of any reason why I should stop you.” She bites her lip. “Fine, you can take Electra to work with you today. Just this once though, Fred.”

“Right, just this once,” Fred responds with a wink. He leans down pecks Y/N’s lips a few times. “Love you.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, a fond smile on her face. “Yeah I love you too, baby hog.” She leans down and presses a kiss to Electra’s forehead. “Love you too, princess. Keep an eye on your Daddy for me, okay? He worries me sometimes,” she teases.

“See you after work, meanie.” Fred kisses Y/N one last time, making sure to grip Electra tightly as he apparates them to the joke shop.

“Morning, Fred,” George greets, turning around to smile at his brother. “What are you wearing?” he asks, his voice full of confusion.

Fred looks down at himself before looking back at George. “Uh, a suit? What else would I be wearing?”

George rolls his eyes. “The other thing, moron.”

Fred grins. “Oh that. A baby.”

George’s eyes widen and he starts to walk towards Fred. “Electra’s in there?” Fred nods and moves a bit of the fabric away so George can see her. “Wicked. Can I have a turn?”

“Oi, back off mate,” Fred teases. “If you wanna wear a baby so bad then get one of your own.” Fred starts to head upstairs to put some of Electra’s things away.

“Why would I do that when I can just steal yours?” George asks with a laugh.

Fred pauses on the stairs, turning to look at George. “You should be thanking me, you know. The things I put up with being the older brother. Ridiculous.”

By the time Fred comes back downstairs the shop is already open, and he starts to walk around the floor, helping out customers and answering questions. Every time someone stops him they always look down at Electra, cooing at how cute she is. It fills Fred with joy, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the extra attention.

During the periods of time that Electra’s awake Fred can hear her cooing softly, and it makes him weak in the knees each time. Every once in a while her little hand will peek out of the wrap and grab at his tie, making every once who witnesses it swoon. At one point when he’s trying to make a sale Electra starts to cry, and the woman feels so bad for Fred that she ends up buying double the amount of whizbangs she needs to help support a nice single father and his daughter. Fred of course thanks the woman endlessly as she heads toward the counter, silently hoping she doesn’t catch a glimmer of his wedding ring.

“So why’d you bring the baby with you?” George asks. “Don’t trust Y/N with your little princess?” he teases.

They’re in a bit of a lull after lunchtime, and Fred is sitting behind the counter giving Electra a bottle while George sorts through some of their mail. Normally by this point in the day Fred would be hitting his afternoon slump, but the feeling of Electra’s tiny, warm body against his chest is keeping him energized. Whenever he feels frustrated or overwhelmed all he has to do is look down at his angelic daughter and he instantly feels better.

“That’s it precisely George,” Fred chides with an eye roll. “But to actually answer your question. I don’t know really. It was nice to be away from home for a bit yesterday and I had a lot of fun, but it’s nice to be with her, ya know? Like it feels like my heart isn’t in my chest when I’m away from her.” Fred blushes when George lets out a quiet ‘aw’ and flips his brother off. “Like no matter how much time I spend with her it’s never enough.”

“You’ve gone soft on me, Freddie,” George teases. “I figured after spending a month at home dealing with no sleep and dirty diapers you’d be dying for some time away from Electra.”

“If it were any other baby I would have, there’s no doubt in my mind,” Fred chuckles. “But I dunno, it’s different when it’s your own baby. Like no matter how tired I am or how much other stuff I have to do, the second she makes a noise all that matters is making sure she’s okay.”

George chuckles. “Bet that’s gotta be hell for you sex life.”

“Oh trust me, you don’t wanna know,” Fred laughs. He looks down at Electra, and lightly strokes her cheek. “But that’s what sleepover at Grandma’s house are for. Right Miss Ellie?”

The second Fred walks through the front door that evening Y/N is right in front of him, reaching into the wrap to grab Electra. “Ugh, finally. Thought you’d never get home.” She immediately cradles the baby against her chest, pressing several gentle kisses all over her face. “Mummy miss you so much, Els!”

“Nice to see you too, love,” Fred teases, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head.

Y/N giggles and tilts her head up so Fred will kiss her. Fred kisses her slowly, and when he finally pulls away Y/N feels lightheaded. “I’m sorry, love. I missed you terribly as well.” She heads towards the couch, gently rocking Electra back and forth. “How did it go with her? Was it alright?”

“It was amazing,” Fred admits honestly, sitting down next to Y/N. “Everyone in that came in absolutely loved her, and she’s a natural saleswoman, Y/N. Some old woman thought I was a single dad, so she bought a ton of stuff. It was great. And let me tell you, single women find you even more attractive when you’ve got a baby strapped to your chest.”

Y/N hits Fred on the chest playfully. “That’s it. You’re never leaving the house with her if I’m not with you ever again.”

“Oh please, I only have eyes for you, and you know that.” Fred leans down and presses a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “But if it makes you feel better I will get the words ‘I’m married’ tattooed on my forehead.”

“It would make me feel endlessly better, thank you my love.”

Fred rolls his eyes before he leans down to kiss Y/N again, already planning on how to sneak Electra to work with him tomorrow.

#fred weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley fanfiction #fw #golden

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hongism · 4 years ago

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the little things - c. jongho

↣ pairing: jongho x reader; mentioned poly ot8 x reader ↣ genre: sfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, fantasy au, witch ateez au ↣ wc: 3.6k ↣ summary: when the winters seem to drag and last forever, you find yourself slipping a bit into murky waters of despair. jongho is your lifeline, your lifesaver, your lifeboat, determined to guide you back to peaceful shores. ↣ warnings: mentions of intrusive thoughts, depression, lots of Talking about depression/grief/mourning, mentions of death/talking about someone who has died

The air bites harshly at your skin, nipping the areas where you can’t be bothered to pull your blanket up over, and if you were in a different emotional state, perhaps you would find it in you to care more. Instead, you remain rooted to the spot — a small stump behind your cottage that overlooks the quiet and expansive forest just over the lip of the hill. It’s a beautiful sight, even in the midst of winter like this where snow has just fallen and left a white sheen to the tips of the trees below you.

It would be wise for you to be inside just in case someone decides to climb the hill to your shop and request a prescription, but you know you will sense them coming before they even reach the stairs.

So, you stay where you are, letting your blanket slip a little more from your shoulders. Your guest — even the loud and boisterous one as he works — sings along to a silent melody, painting your ears with the pleasant sound of his voice as he moves freshly chopped wood to your dwindling pile by the house. Despite your attempts to help, he simply told you to stay put and not move a muscle while he chopped and moved them. Arguing with him would be a losing fight anyway.

In all honesty, as beautiful and delightful as the forest below you usually is, you cannot find it in you to see that beauty right now. Nothing seems to be working. All your wasted and helpless attempts to feel some type of way about your surroundings have failed time and time again. Either that or they are drowned out by that lingering ache in your chest, the one that clenches your heart tight in its clutches and pins you to the ground in a state of numbness that sadly is not foreign to you.

You wish you had a better explanation for that tightness in your chest. Whenever Seonghwa or Hongjoong asks after you and how you’re faring, you scrape by and say you are doing fine. Because yes, you are arguably fine. Not bad but not particularly good either. Just a middle ground of fine. (Nothing is ever truly fine in such a world where the word has become a cloak for how one truly feels, and you know both Hongjoong and Seonghwa can see right through your ruse each time you utter the words ‘I’m fine’. Neither push you further than that, however, so you don’t say anything else). Part of you feels the tuggings of guilt on your heartstrings when one of the others tries to cheer you up — Wooyoung with his playful jokes and endless tickle fights on the couch that end with you exhaling an exasperated sigh and leaving him there alone, San who does anything and everything to help but is too clumsy for his own good so he accidentally makes things worse, Yunho who tries his best to sit with you in absolute silence without moving while you read but inevitably cannot sit still for more than five minutes without doing something. So you do feel guilty for not being able to cheer up when they try their hardest to break that emotional wall around you.

It must be frustrating for them to have to deal with you while in such a state of emotional distortion and confusion; you aren’t sure whether you could be nearly as patient as they are with you (god, they are all so endlessly patient — another thing to feel guilty about). Yet you must admit that it is frustrating for you as well. Because as much as you want to be more than just fine or okay or whatever variation of “I’m not good, not bad, I don’t know what the fuck I am, I just am” you are on a certain day, you cannot will yourself into pushing those negative thoughts and feelings out of the picture. Almost like the thing holding you down has an anchor tied to your ankle and causes you to sink deeper and deeper each time you try to fight your way out of it.

Maybe you aren’t paying as much attention as you thought you were after all because when a firm hand reaches down to clasp around your shoulder, you are more than a little startled.

The little jump in your body as well as the sudden gasp that tears through your lips catches your companion off-guard too, it seems. Although Jongho is always a hard book to read; he doesn’t wear his feelings on his sleeve the way people like Wooyoung and San do. The slight and momentary widening of his eyes tells you all you need to know before you let yourself relax under his warm touch.

That’s another thing about Jongho — he is always so warm. Now, of course, you are fairly certain that part of that relates to him being an elemental witch, so obviously he will carry some extra warmth in his body because of those energies, but he holds a different kind of warmth with him as well. One that makes you believe for almost a second that it will be okay.

The sun flickering at the edge of the horizon.

Two swallows flitting across the bright and clear morning sky.

The rolling forest that rests at the foot of your hill.

It’s green today. The snow caps the trees just enough to leave hints of winter foliage peeking through.

Green and alive and beautiful.

Then the illusion breaks, like the anchor around your foot let up for just that moment to let you gasp in a desperate gulp of air and beauty before dragging you back into its abyss.

What a cruel, cruel mistress.

“Too cold?” Jongho inquires as he squats down beside you. A smile twists his lips, gentle and effervescent. (“Love,” your mind helpfully supplies, “he looks at you with love”).

“It’s not too bad today,” you reply in a quiet tone. There lies an alternate meaning to what you said, something contained and locked away in the box you call your heart, and Jongho takes that box into his hands so carefully as always. Sits down on the snow-covered ground without complaint beside your tiny stump and lets his hand slip down to rest over where your thigh meets your knee. It’s careful. Your lip twitches in some direction.

“That still implies it’s a little bad.”

You hum in response. There isn’t much for you to say to that even though he is unfortunately all too correct in saying such a thing.

“I chopped enough wood to last you through February. Should be a harsher winter than usual, so don’t hesitate to send for me if you need more before then.” You reach down to cover Jongho’s hand, tracing pointless and unknown patterns into the back of his hand. The touch is more for you than anything else; a peace of mind that allows you to disconnect the brutal reality of your pained chest from what is sitting right in front of you. Love, joy, care, warmth.

Why does your chest only grow colder in the face of something that burns so hot?

Jongho’s lips move again, and you are almost certain that he is speaking to you but the deep waters clog your ears and make it impossible to understand what he’s saying to you.

Why does this anchor never find a place to rest? You want to rest.

When you fail to respond or even acknowledge whatever Jongho has said in the slightest, he takes it upon himself to stand back up and nudge you away from your little stump. You are understandably confused by the action but too …absent to reality to complain or fight back against whatever he’s doing.

So you opt to simply stand off to the side and watch as Jongho brushes stray pieces of snow off your blanket. He wraps it snug back around your shoulders. It’s a bit warmer this time. Then, he guides you to the back door, hand closing around the soft white handle and pushing into the cottage without a word. This is just another language you speak. Understanding. Push and pull. The complex nature of working with an emotionally stunted and constipated individual who does not know how to communicate what exactly they are feeling or thinking in the moment.

You prefer to just exist rather than bog yourself down with such detailed intricacies — it makes things easier for you in the long run.

Once inside, Jongho continues to push you forward until you reach the positively tiny dining table you have set up next to the kitchen. Hardly an excuse for a dining table since it’s barely bigger than your bedside table but then again it’s made to seat you and only you. That doesn’t stop Jongho from pulling a second chair up to slot into the space directly to the right of your chair. Again you do not fight him when he eases you down onto the soft ivory cushion.

Instinct causes you to shift and look out the window above your table, finding the first few flakes of the morning snow beginning to fall. You wonder if Jongho sensed the weather shifting or if it’s merely happenstance that brought you both inside before the snow started.

“Seonghwa went on a rampage and cleaned the house again,” Jongho murmurs. He follows your gaze out the window but doesn’t say anything more than that, leaving the conversation open and hanging onto a hope for your response.

“Is he worried over Hongjoong?”

“No more than usual. You know how he gets. Can’t sit still even when you ask him to.” You shift to look at Jongho, noting the smile that curls at the corners of his lips, and this time you return the gesture with a lopsided grin of your own. “All before sunrise too.”

“He always has to be the first to wake up, otherwise he doesn’t get to tell you that you’re his darling sunrise.”

Jongho’s smile stretches wider and shows off his gums and teeth. It’s beautiful, you think, somewhere in the back of your mind that remains untouched by that cold sadness. Happiness looks good on Jongho — warm, alive, and beautiful. You wonder if it looks the same on your features as well, if it were ever to come back to you.

“Shall I prepare some tea?”

“You’re beginning to sound like Yeosang.”

“Maybe all those naps on the couch are finally starting to have weird side effects on me.” Jongho shrugs then laughs under his breath, but the sound is still clear and bright on your ears. He pushes back from the table to step into your small kitchen nonetheless, not waiting for your answer to his question as he begins to rummage through your cabinets.

“That would make sense; you’re his favorite after all.”

“Hm, I think Seonghwa has me beat there.”

“Only because of their familiar bond. Otherwise, I’m positive you would take the cake.” You prop your elbows up on the edge of the table, leaning forward until your chin rests atop your clenched fists, and you simply watch Jongho move around the kitchen with little on your mind for a bit. He’s quiet again; this time, he doesn’t speak as he works, and it allows you to stew in the silence while you can. You have to remind yourself that sometimes it’s like this. Some days are harder than others. Some days are easier, and some are like today where you can’t even manage to pinpoint the source of your negative feelings.

You glance over at the wall, staring hard at the small chalkboard that sits there with your messing scrawling and intelligible handwriting. Then your stare settles on today’s date. The small red circle around the number placed in roman numerals there. You left no other note there, no indication of what the red circle means, but after several years of practicing said habit, the knowledge is deeply ingrained in your mind now.

“Ah…” you exhale without thinking. You don’t notice the way Jongho’s gaze flickers over to you, how his hand hesitates near the kettle, or how he follows your stare to the calendar. You’re far too engrossed in the swarm of hurt in your chest. Suddenly your shifting moods make much more sense. “Another year, another birthday passed.”

The day always feels so odd and cathartic to you. A day one is supposed to celebrate that has long since grown cold and lonely because the one you are meant to be celebrating is nothing present. Birthdays are almost worse than the other melancholy anniversary that hasn’t left your mind.

You force your gaze away from the calendar to look back at where Jongho stands frozen as a statue in the kitchen.

“Did you… remember?” You ask. Jongho doesn’t typically come over unannounced, but he rarely explains why he comes to visit either. He did neither again today. It is far more understandable now that you’ve finally realized what day it is.

“I did,” he whispers back before settling back into his routine of making tea. “I did not want to mention it unless you brought it up first.”

His tone is careful and wary, like he’s treading on broken glass and trying not to make the damage worse. You are almost grateful for it.

“It’s okay,” you say through a strained smile. “At least I know why I’m feeling this way now.”

Next thing you know, Jongho is abandoning his station at the stove, leaving the kettle behind to heat up, and he returns to your side within seconds. Although this time, he merely stands beside your chair and brings his hands down to cradle your face in his rough and warm hands. You can’t understand why until his thumbs brush something damp away from your cheeks. You don’t even remember feeling the tears spring up.

“It’s okay.”

You nearly snap back and say it’s not okay, why would it be okay if you’re crying like this? But then it hits you that Jongho is not implying the situation is okay or that it is not something to be upset over. Rather, he’s telling you that it’s okay to cry like this, to be affected and hurt and in pain. You wish you could believe it.

“I thought it would get easier as more time passed.” You keep your tone quiet, knowing that if you lift your voice any higher it will begin to crack and break.

“Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t. But I think you’ve made lots of progress as it is.” Jongho squats down until most of his weight is pushed onto his toes, sitting just beneath your eye level now. His hands don’t drift from your face for a second though, and right now, you couldn’t be more grateful for the warmth of his touch. “It’s not always about measuring the pain or comparing how much it hurts not to how much it hurt back then. Sometimes it’s about being able to see how you’ve grown and how you can look back at memories that were once painful with fondness now. And occasionally, it’s about being able to look at the calendar and smile because you know you get to celebrate a life and a soul that you still cherish.”

“What if one day I look at that calendar and don’t remember though? I don’t want to forget, but I want to be okay.” You suck your lower lip between your teeth and bite down hard on the skin. It doesn’t help with your sudden influx of tears (not that you expected it to) but Jongho wipes them away with each one that falls.

“Is that what you’re afraid of? Forgetting?”

“Y-Yeah. I get… I get upset because — I don’t know. Part of me feels guilty to even want to be okay when I know that he didn’t get to be. He didn’t have the chance to be okay, he was gone before he had that, and I’m here and I just… feeling a lot less deserving of that.”

Jongho shifts his weight to rest on his knees now, and he pulls you a bit further down to still comfortably hold your face between his palms.

“Would he want you to punish yourself for something out of your control? Or would he want you to rest in the knowledge that he is okay now? Resting easy after a long fight and at peace because he did well in his life? Even if that life did not last as long as we might have hoped, he still did well and worked hard and showed a life that was full of many beautiful things, no?”

“You’re right,” you murmur, eyes flitting away from Jongho’s ever so gentle ones. “I’m thankful for the time I had with him, even if it wasn’t as long as I imagined it would be. He’s at peace and he’s resting and okay now. Just the selfish part of me isn’t ready to let go.”

“You don’t ever have to let go, darling. Not completely. And if you don’t want to let go, then that gives me confidence that you won’t forget him or the memories of him. He will always be resting here.” Jongho’s left hand falls to rest over your heart, fingers barely brushing against the soft material of your clothes there. You instinctively reach over to cover his hand with one of your own and press him closer and closer until his palm lies flat against your chest. “He would want you to find the peace you deserve even if he isn’t here on earth anymore.”

“I’m trying my best to remember that,” you counter. The words come out a bit choked and thick thanks to your tears but you push through that and continue speaking nonetheless. “I’m trying to remember that he would want us to celebrate him and remember him fondly, not just the sad parts or the tragedy. He wouldn’t want to be remembered as something sad or a tragedy, and he wouldn’t want to only be remembered when times are sad. I just feel like I’m drowning in these feelings and can’t get out sometimes.”

“In times of grief, we often let ourselves sink because we lose ourselves in the feelings of pain and sadness. It’s easier to get lost in it than it is to fight your way out of it, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. There’s always a way out. Sometimes you just need someone to hold your hand and help guide you home.”

“I want to go home,” you whisper. It sounds utterly stupid to say aloud since you are sitting in your own damn kitchen right now, you are home physically, of course you are, and you are more than well aware of that. Still, your heart feels like it’s torn from your chest and off who knows where with no hope of coming home, yet Jongho just twists his hand around and takes hold of yours. You cling to your lifeline harder.

“Do you trust us to stand by you until you find your way home?”

“Always.”

“Then I promise that’s exactly what we’ll do.” Jongho pulls your hand close to his face, then presses his lips to your knuckles. The gesture is soft and intimate, even moreso with the knowledge that Jongho isn’t one to typically engage in such physical affection often, and you feel some warmth creep into your chest again.

“Will you stay even after that?” You ask through a breathless whisper, bracing your hands on Jongho’s firm shoulders and offering a teary smile. Jongho pushes up, and his head bumps haphazardly into your shoulder as he moves suddenly. It causes you to tip back a bit, nearly falling all the way off the chair, but he catches you before you can slip. It’s not a verbal answer, nor do you need it to be because you’d like to think you can understand what Jongho means in the movements without hearing him say it. “Thank you for being patient with me. All of you are so patient and gentle with me.”

“I think this is where Seonghwa would say something grossly sappy like ‘that’s part of being in love’,” Jongho murmurs before his forehead finds purchase against yours. You let your eyes flutter shut and rest in the gentle embrace. “Thank you for opening your heart to me.” You hum back, not bothering with words in favor of just drinking in Jongho’s presence. “The kettle is boiling away, you know.”

“Let me have this for just a few moments more.”

“Always,” Jongho sighs against you, but it’s not a tired or exasperated sound, merely content in the peaceful space the two of you have created. You’re content as well — okay for now, fine for now, but maybe even leaning more on doing well and feeling good. Not perfect, although you don’t think it needs to be perfect as long as you have the hopes of reaching safe shores.

...

a/n: this came at an opportune time i think? april 7th/8th is always difficult for me and i know many people can relate to that well and understand that feeling, and i kinda unintentionally reflected those feelings into this part of little things, but i hope maybe that you can find comfort in this and understand how important and valid your feelings are, no matter what ❤❤

#atzinc #kdiarynet #kwritersworldnet #jongho x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #depression tw #anxiety tw #ateez x reader #jongho fluff #jongho angst #ateez imagines #ateez drabbles #jongho imagines #jongho drabbles #fic; the little things

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wehatejulietsimms · 2 years ago

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Why does it matter?

Why does it matter if Juliet Simms aka Lilith Czar or her husband Andy Biersack aka Andy Black speak on issues? First look at BVB’s entire discography. Think of the themes and the lyrics. The primary focus is STANDING UP for what is right. CHILDREN often being the victims of society. CORRUPT systems of power. MENTAL anguish and abuse. Hmmm? So basically Andy has literally written SIX entire albums on those themes. That’s just the BVB albums. Then there is Andy Black. Which again has similar themes, as it leans more into not being “right” in your head. Death, losing someone you love suddenly and unexpectedly. Oh wait? Then Andy has also spoken and made a living off some relative themes to current events. He even has a song called Put The Gun Down. Has used “gun” repeatedly throughout his career from BVB to AB and beyond. He also appeared in a violent song with Ronnie Radke in 2013/2014. Where they literally shoot people towards the end of the song. Now Juliet Simms aka Lilith Czar. Especially since the “relaunch” of her career as Lilith. She has been making a living off selling you “anarchy”, rebellion, bravery and feminism. STANDING UP, not being AFRAID to SPEAK OUT in what she has called an unjust world. At least while she has something to promote. You can’t write a song like Anarchy and literally give speeches on stage about it, acting tough and then be SILENT the second life gets real. It is abhorrent to not even acknowledge mass death of CHILDREN in school. What is school but a place to find knowledge and STRENGTH? A place where DREAMS find their roots? Oh wait she has spent over a year talking about finding your DREAMS, building the life you want? Well what happens when you are a child, Lilith Czar and someone violently steals your dreams and life away from you? In a speed faster than sound travels. That is how fast one of those bullets travel. She commodified this idea of rebellion. “ I am Lilith Czar” and I’m not scared. I’m here to make the world better! Then when the world needs her? She is no where to be found. When other women needed here. It took a WEEK to respond and then only to save face with BRAVER women than her. There are endless artists who haven’t even written songs using the same themes these two have, who have done MORE and spoken out more than Juliet/ Lilith or Andy. When a person or company makes money off a concept or tries to sell a product to you based on “caring” about an issue and then doesn’t show up for those issues with the SAME vigor... you have every right to criticize them. You really do. Being a “person” or “just an artist” does not exempt you from showing up for your fellow HUMANITY. Doing what is right is never convenient nor is it also profitable, but it is needed just the same. These artists mentioned above have made their LIFES work about related topics and concepts. The very roof over their head comes from that work right? So they owe those TOPICS, concepts, movements and themes. ALOT. They took them and used them and said Hey I care and this is what I think!!! Rock/ Alternative artists should be held to a higher standard because they sell a message of a higher standard. One that society is often failing as a whole. When you do that and not just create songs about getting drunk, spending money, doing drugs and partying. It is fair for people to except you to LIVE by your OWN art. If you say your art is genuine and “from the heart. That you don’t write things you don’t believe? As BOTH of them of stated ENDLESSLY over the past decade. Then where are those beliefs when not convenient? Where is the artist when needed? Where is the truth when it’s now the time to speak it? Where is that “strength”? Where is that “fire”? “ Rebellion” “Anarchy” The “get back up when they push you down” The “ we’re coming for Kings and Queens” Mind set? Choose “EVIL” or “LIVE” Evil does so well in silence but can’t really live in the light..... Funny how that works. Why does it matter? Because life matters. People matter. Doing the right thing matters. Giving back to world that has given you a lot matters. Because every single day they make money on these issues and themes. That’s why it matters!!!!

#submission

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28whitepeonies · 2 years ago

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Your continued ignorance is really showing with the way you spew lies about Harry to make Louis seem like a good guy. Where have Harry disrespected or done something to affect his poc and black fans or black people in general?? But do you know who continues to show a pattern of racist behaviour and never once apologized for his actions?? Louis Tomlinson! He has said the n word, trashed urban music on radios for years, pretended not to hear his own sister say the n word on camera right in front of him, associated and continued to associate himself with racist and homophobic friends, was a racist and a homophobic bully since childhood, continues to have only white men on his band and crew, not a single poc or black artist or a women on his playlists except Amy Winehouse. Meanwhile we have Harry donating endlessly to charities like EveryTown which works to prevent gun violence and so many other charities which help minor ethnic communities. Not to mention all the poc/black opening acts he has on tour with him. Your bias towards Louis is showing with how you so easily trash Harry to give Louis some pedestal he never deserves. Accept the reality. Louis Tomlinson is a racist man. No amount of you deluding yourself will change that. And for God's sake stop lying about Harry cause you are looking like an ignorant clown now. You may delete this ask, but it is the simple truth.

Wow this is a lot of words on 99% of issues I’ve already responded to but I see we are back to selectively listing bad things famous people do.

We have a bit of a different view of charity donations and what they symbolise - I think donating to charities on these kind of issues signifies very little, it’s not a radical statement is it? But money does always help - sometimes it helps some more than others and sometimes if I’m really cynical when it’s so public it’s really mutually beneficial.

I’m sorry that I’ve given the impression I have Louis on a pedestal - I think my words are being taken out of context a little though. Louis is at the end of the day, just a man. I have as much interest in him as I could have about any man, and about the same interest I have in Harry, and as a woman who has a fair about of anger at men in general, the idea that I’m putting Louis on a pedestal is amusing. On top of that, he’s a rich millionaire man, me saying I have to acknowledge that sometimes I want him to be more radical than he is isn’t me saying much. I do find him the most relatable member of One Direction, and in turn have a bit of a soft spot for him, but I don’t have to think of everyone equally you know? My thoughts on all of this are just that! And any discussion of both Harry and Louis was started by an ask that anons have continued, but which I am now getting tired of since there seems to be a bit of difficulty in not being a dickhead while disagreeing with me.

I do think it’s amusing that all these anons in my inbox want to tell me how wonderful Harry is and how terrible Louis is though, while they tell me that I’m biased.

But do feel free to pull up a pew and have a seat, perhaps on this:

#I have one more anon I’ll likely answer #on something remotely related to this #and then im done #unless something new and groundbreaking arrives

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kataraslove · 3 years ago

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katara: “do you hear that?”

aang: “sounds like it’s coming from over there...”

for kataang week day 3: post canon @kataang-week

newly wedded aang and katara (now sporting a cute little bob) were travelling across the world for their honeymoon. on their way to the kingdom of omashu, the two decided to stop and revisit the cave of two lovers. as aang and katara leaned in for a quick kiss by the entrance of the cave, they heard a blood-curling scream come from inside. immediately pulling away, the couple shared a suspicious look with each other before deciding to investigate.

katara cautiously grabbed her pouch as aang drew out a small flame to lead the way. however, the waterbender stopped her husband to remind him that the tunnels were filled with fluorescent crystals that glowed in the dark.

“oh yeah,” aang recalled. he looked down at the flame dwindling in his palm. “i’ll put it out when we get further in there. if we hear screaming again, we’ll be able to find out where it came from.”

“you can also use your earth bending this time around.”

aang nodded. “that i can.” the gentle lines of his face - reserved especially for his wife - quickly switched up to the avatar look, the signature look that he bore whenever there was danger and people in need of his help.

“let’s go.”

(continued under the cut, 2.4k words)

the broad sunlight of the summer day was reduced to a small crevice against their backs, as the two lovers made their way into the shadows of the labyrinth. their primary light source came from aang’s flame, which had grown brighter the farther they travelled. the avatar could not help but become a little bit mesmerized with the vivid red and orange hues that danced in his left palm, the warmth that occupied his hand having stretched out to his entire body. the flame synchronized so perfectly well with his heartbeat. fire is life, he recalled the words of the sun warrior chief. not just destruction.

aang nearly chuckled out loud. firebending came so naturally to him now - almost as natural as his airbending. to think that there was ever a time that he had outright hated the element and vowed to never learn it, even if it had meant jeopardizing his avatarhood.

however, a small voice crept to the back of his mind, uncomfortably reminding of the exact reason as to why he initially refused to learn the element at the age of twelve. it was the same reason that brought shame and guilt inside his gut - even eight years later - whenever the memory unexpectedly crossed his mind. what he had done to katara on that day, how he had refused to listen to jeong jeong’s advice and lost control of his fire, the image of her fresh burns - it was all there, forever smeared across his brain and heart as a painful reminder. no matter how many times katara had insisted that good had come from that day through the discovery of her healing abilities, aang could never wash away the trauma associated with that event.

he inhaled sharply. it won’t happen again. he wasn’t twelve anymore, and he had full control over all the elements now. fire was energy, he had learned, and life.

sparing a glance at katara, who had been awfully quiet since they got into the cave, he noticed that his wife was chewing anxiously on her lower lip. the trouble in her beautiful features was easily detectable by the bright flames within his hand. he moved closer to her, his shoulder gently bumping hers in an attempt to comfort her. “you okay?”

she met his eyes, and he could see the hint of fear reflected in them. “aang, i’m worried.”

“you have nothing to be worried about,” aang reassured her with a small smile. “whatever it is, or whoever it is, we can take ‘em.”

katara shook her head. “i’m not worried about the who. we’ve probably dealt with far worse than whatever is lingering in this cave. but i - aang, what if it’s bad?”

he frowned, confused. “what if what’s bad, then?”

she studied her hands carefully. her hands were the hands of a fighter, of a healer. the same hands who had resurrected an avatar back to life and saved a firelord from near death, while dismantling another firelord from the throne. he felt the sudden urge to draw her hands in his own, to hold her tight enough to ease away her fears.

“what if there’s a bunch of dead bodies stashed away in this tunnel, rotting away for days or even weeks?” she answered in alarm, eyes widening at the dark path ahead of them. “or, what if there’s a bunch of people lying around in pain, on the brink of death, and I don’t have enough water to save them all?”

his eyes turned to the road ahead. he saw nothing, except for earth and more earth. but he knew better than to dismiss those kind of fears.

“that wouldn’t be your fault.” he responded gently. “we’ll do our best to help, to make sure that whoever is out there is safe and unharmed. but if they do happen to be harmed - or worse, dead - and we’ve tried everything that we could,” he shuttered out a breath at the imagery. “i don’t want you to blame yourself for whoever you can’t save, katara.”

“and i don’t want you to blame yourself, aang.” she placed a hand on his shoulder as they walked on. he tried to ignore the immediate sweep of panic churning in his stomach at her proximity to the fire. if he envisioned a future with both katara and firebending, he would have to get used to accepting that she would be around the times when he required the element.

“i know you feel a sense of responsibility, as the avatar, to ensure that the world is kept safe,” she continued on. her voice softened, a sad tone. “i know it upsets you when it isn’t.”

“wasn’t i the one consoling you just a second ago?” aang joked, deflecting.

“we’re consoling each other.” katara insisted with a small smile. the corners of her mouth dropped at her next statement: “i know you don’t like to talk about it, aang, the stress and pressure that you feel. but i also know how it keeps you up at night. why you choose to sometimes spend long periods of time meditating.”

just like that, she had flipped the switch on him in the way that only she knew how. katara was undoubtedly right. of course he had seen and experienced his fair amount of injustice and morbidity; they all had. but the guilt of not being able to do anything about it - to know that people all over the world were counting on him to end their suffering and plight and despair, while there were many days when all he could do was sit in lavish cushions arguing endlessly with politicians who could not relate to the earth kingdom boy who had nothing to eat, or to the water tribe girl who had lost her parents, or to the air nomad who was the sole survivor of an entire culture - ate away at his heart and mind at every minute of every hour. even now, when he was supposed to be enjoying his blissful vacation with his wife.

“aang.” he felt katara lightly pull his chin towards her, forcing him to look at her before his mind could wander down the same dangerous road that it had so many days and nights before. she stopped the two in their tracks, the light from his palm illuminating their darkened features.

the fire reflected back in the indigo of her eyes, embodying the energy and intensity and life that was katara, his best friend, his saviour. suddenly, he was transported back to a time during the war, when he had just been a fidgety twelve year-old boy staring up at his fourteen year-old best friend. his heart thumped furiously against his chest the closer he inched to her face. when their lips met, he felt electricity course through his veins and wondered if the warmth that pooled in his stomach was what love felt like.

as he caught her lips in his own again, this time at the age of twenty, he could confirm - a memoir to his twelve year old self - that the warmth was indeed love. but love was also so much more, he came to realize over the years. love was the cautious hands of a fourteen year-old girl spending weeks at his side, healing him from his coma, sobbing in despair and frustration when he would not wake up. love was the way that he had thrown his arms around her waist, and she around his neck, relief flooding each other’s veins at the knowledge that they were both alive and safe and together after his defeat of ozai and her defeat of azula. love was the way her hand fit so perfectly in his, palm pressed to palm and fingers intertwined, as the two watched the early formations of republic city from their home, vowing to leave a lasting legacy on a world where benders and non-benders of all types could live together in safety and harmony.

love was also the brief kiss in an abandoned cave that said a million more things than he could ever say in words.

when the two pulled back, he noted the way that her eyes twinkled up at him under the fluorescent light. the crystals shone overhead, leading them down a familiar path, just as how it had done when he was twelve. aang checked his left palm and realized that he had extinguished his flame during the kiss.

katara’s smile reached her eyes when she grabbed for his hand, pulling him along. “funny,” she said, bemused. “that thing you said when we were kids. guess it held up all these years, didn’t it?”

“what thing?”

“oh, you know,” she replied with a casual shrug, a mischievous glint forming in her eye. “you choosing to kiss me over dying - ”

he groaned. she was never going to let him live that one, was she?

“did i say that?” aang feigned innocence. “i can’t quite recall. maybe what my awkward twelve-year old self had meant to say, instead, was that the thought of not being able to kiss you is just so unbearable that i would rather have chosen death.”

“mmhmmm. sure you had.” a blush slowly crept up her cheeks, betraying her sarcastic tone. success.

“good thing that hasn’t happened yet, though. the not being able to kiss you anymore part.” he paused, adding as an afterthought: “the death part, too, if we’re being honest.”

“don’t speak so soon. what if there’s a serial killer in here?” she hushed him, looking around conspiratorially.

“you’d rather a serial killer kiss you instead of your own husband? ouch.”

she smacked his arm. “aang! i’m serious. with the recent bender supremacy uprisings going on in major cities of the earth kingdom, it’s not out of the realm of possibility. what’s stopping a bender supremacist from kidnapping a bunch of non-benders in omashu and dumping their bodies in this cave right now?”

“well, for starters, we would’ve heard by now if that were the case, wouldn’t we have? there’d be rumours, like with what happened with hama. so far, there hasn’t been any reports of mysterious non-bender disappearances in the cities where the uprisings are taking place. definitely not any in omashu.”

a dark look settled across katara’s face at the mention of the estranged bloodbender. “an earth bender supremacist could be dragging bodies from the city and burying them in the rubble of the tunnels. no one would even think to look because the legend says that the cave is cursed.”

aang scratched his head, suddenly very wary about his surroundings. his eyes scanned everywhere around him, from the plethora of crystals that provided them light on top to the solid stone that held the cave in place, trying to spot any semblance of a decomposing body. just as before, he couldn’t detect anything unusual.

while he knew that katara’s suspicions had merit to them, his mind still hesitated over the idea of a bender supremacist trapping people in caves. he would have heard something by now, if that were the case. besides, they were drawing all of these inferences from a scream that he wasn’t even sure came from a human. the high-pitched sound could have belonged to a species of wolfbats, for all they knew. and even if it were to emerge out of a person, who was to say that it was connected to the victim of a bender supremacist murderer? it could have been from a lost and hungry traveler stuck in the cave for days, unsure of their way out. or perhaps it was from someone whose foot was trapped under rubble, screaming out in sheer pain. maybe it even belonged to a villager being chased by an angry spirit.

he walked over to one of the walls, running his hand over the sharp rocks that pricked at his skin. or perhaps, he thought bitterly, gritting his teeth, it was his own refusal to accept that he was failing the world again that led him to dismiss such possibilities. given the political climate, it was entirely possible that bender supremacists were using their bending to hide bodies within the cave. he just wasn’t aware of any of it because it was all taking place underneath his nose, while he remained in blissful ignorance with the women he loved on what was supposed to be his vacation.

aang closed his eyes. he focused on the vibrations emitting from the ground, trying to detect if there was anything that could give him a clue, like a direction to the source of the scream. he was even searching for the large footsteps of badger moles or the fluttering wings of wolfbats. while he was no toph, his earthbending had vastly improved over the years to the point where he had gotten very good at perceiving the world around and underneath him through vibrations. but this time around, he was sensing absolutely nothing.

well, not entirely nothing. aang noted that some parts of the earth below his hand felt kind of fresh. and quite warm. it didn’t take an earth bender to realize that their texture and temperature were evidently different from the rocks comprising the rest of the cave. this new formation of rock - whatever it was - also felt very familiar to him, almost like he had dealt with this type before.

his eyes widened in recognition. it was rock that had hardened after the eruption of a volcano. and not just any ordinary eruption; a special kind of eruption that didn’t require any volcano whatsoever.

lavabending.

“hey, katara. would you be able to come over here? i think i found something.”

aang’s words were interrupted by the sudden howl of a blood-curling scream. this time, he had felt the vibrations perfectly through the earth, and spirits did they hurt. he winced in pain, his ears ringing, reflexively removing his hand off the ground.

the screaming did not seem to stop the longer the seconds passed. multiple more emitted from the path ahead in unison, echoing off the chambers of the cave. his heart pounded. there was no denying that the cries had unmistakably belonged to humans.

katara already had a stream of water out from her pouch. she had sprang into action, pointing in the precise direction that the noise was coming from.

“this way,” she shouted, running ahead.

be careful, he couldn’t help think as he trailed after her.

this art was adapted from the following comic panel in imbalance part 2:

#kataang week 2021 #kataang #kataangtag

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