#i just need to see the sensible outfit in battle okay

[iturbide]

Ah, Bylass facts in this tumblr today,,, I agree with everything you said in regards to F!Byleth’s armor! (And also Corrin/Robin, but even then neither of them are as bad as F!Byleth! It’s… actually kinda ridiculously how big the difference is between Male and Female Byleth??)

Hopefully the next FE game with an avatar character won’t do the whole sexualizing the female avatar thing.

At least for me, it isn’t even that the character is sexualized! That can be part of a character’s Thing! Certain characters - like Dorothea, I personally thought altho ik not everyone agrees, which is fine! - even do it tastefully. It’s when you have a counterpart of the opposite gender and there’s a… Very clear discrepancy lol, that annoys me to not no end.

Oh, absolutely: Robin was fine up until the Grandmaster, Corrin was bad but not egregious since it was just one alteration (though it was a very sexualizing one), but Bylass is just a whole other issue because they changed practically everything about her attire compared to her Bylad.

And because I'm feeling pedantic I'm going to list them.

They have roughly seven aspects in common, and they're all fairly minor:

The boots

The one knee guard*

The dagger

The shoulder armor

The coat

The vambraces*

The medallion*

While the list of differences is somewhat shorter, when the execution is taken into account it gets insane:

Bylad has pants; Bylass has patterned fishnet leggings (in concert with the aforementioned knee guard, that amounts to having metal in direct contact with bare skin, which is bad)

Related to the above, Bylad also has a medieval tunic long enough to cover his upper legs; Bylass has the shortest of short shorts and no cover at all, giving her limited to absent protection since it's very clear where her clothing ends and she begins.

Bylad has armor around his waist and stomach where his medallion attaches; Bylass has her midriff exposed by her armor that only protects her sides and upper abdomen (also, the fact that her midriff is exposed skin makes it seem like her top isn't long enough, either -- again, metal in contact with bare skin is bad)

Bylad has basically a medieval tunic that ends above knee length; Bylass has a tight-fitted sleeveless top with a low neckline and a train below knee length (that is a tripping hazard and generally a terrible idea for combat attire)

Related to the above, Bylad's tunic has long sleeves extending to at least mid-forearm (it's impossible to gauge the exact length because of the armor) and gloves; Bylass has no sleeves at all and no gloves meaning her vambraces are on bare skin (which I've covered a few times already -- it's bad)

Bylad has an armored collar that protects his shoulders, throat, and the upper portions of his back and chest; Bylass has what appears to be a cloth collar where her medallion attaches that does not extend far enough down to protect her upper chest (and while for once I don't have to bring up the armor on bare skin, I have to bring up that you can still see skin below her collar and above the neckline of her shirt, so she has no protection whatsoever aside from the medallion that would rest around her sternum -- but it's unfixed, meaning it can swing around and therefore provides no reliable defense)

That's. That's a bad list there, especially since we know from the intro of the story that regardless of gender Byleth is a mercenary. Bylass' outfit would provide minimal to no protection in combat, meaning she's either the absolute best of the best who never gets hurt ever (and we know that's not true since she almost died in the Prologue trying to protect Edelgard from Kostas) or she doesn't fight much at all. Which means she's not really a mercenary. And that does a disservice to her character.

Because I think you're right: characters can be sexualized in such a way that doesn't feel gross, especially when it's specifically addressed. I agree with you that Dorothea is much more sexualized than any of the other female characters in the game, and it even starts in the Academy Phase: her uniform is stylistically in line with the Garreg Mach standard (the black, white, and gold colors, skirt, boots, etc), but she is the only named female student with such a low-cut blouse on display: all the other girls have either shirts with high necklines/collars or wear a closed jacket with a high collar -- but Dorothea specifically keeps her jacket open to show off her chest.

And the thing is that it makes sense for her character, since her own stated goal is that she's looking to find a rich husband so that she doesn't have to worry about going back to the streets. She knows that her body is an asset in this regard, since she's looking for security more than love, so she uses it to the absolute best of her ability. She's a singer in the Academy Phase, a mage in the War Phase, so she's not going to want or need lots of heavy armor, and her designs overall make sense (though I do call foul on the way her post-timeskip dress is cut in the back, that is nonsensically insane and also please stop making women wear metal in contact with skin, that armor bodice just looks so uncomfortable). So all of that in context is reasonable for her as a character.

The difference between Bylad and Bylass is not reasonable. Not when they have the same canonical history and profession. Not when they're both supposed to be adept fighters who have earned the moniker of Ashen Demon for themselves. What they did to Bylass is just gross to me and I will never stop being bitter about it.

[tarosin]

The great adventures of y/n tommy tubbo and jack - using tanks to battle

requested: yes/no

this is part 11 to the great adventures series

it was now 5 am you had been on facetime with ranboo since he started streaming at 10 pm neither of you was going to sleep anytime soon

“isn’t it like 5 am for you”

“trying to get rid of me then”

“no no no soon enough I’m going to be stuck with you pretty much 24/7”

“heh? aren’t you staying with tubbo when you come to the UK?”

you watched his face turn red thinking that he had said something that he wasn’t supposed to tell you it was only when he looked up to see you with your head tilted he realised you weren’t aware of what was going to happen in the following weeks

“I will tackle you in the middle of the airport if you don’t tell me what you tubbo and lani mean when you all make comments about me constantly being around yous”

“I cannot wait to see you try”

“I'm blocking you”

hours passed and it was now time for you to get ready to go meet the others you left your phone on your bed whilst you went to get ready by the time you returned ranboo had fallen asleep

“goodnight boo not long now till you’re in the UK, you’re asleep I’m talking to myself goodnight”

since your parents had to go to work they offered to drop you off on the way, the journey to meet the others was pretty uneventful you just spent the time talking about how streaming was going and future plans. that was until your parents mentioned ranboo was flying over soon

“your friend is flying over soon right?”

“ranboo oh yeah yeah he gets here on 26th as far as I’m aware i’m going to tackle him in the middle of the airport”

“great great you’re going with tubbo to meet him, do you know how long you’re going to be out”

“..no why? shouldn’t be too long”

“don’t worry about it darling we’re here now oh look here comes tubbo”

as soon as the car stopped you laughed as you noticed in the corner of your eye tubbo running towards the car you said your goodbyes as you got out of the car and was instantly pulled away by tubbo

“oh oh okay tubbo I think I can walk on my own bud”

tubbo completely ignored every word you had just said and continued leading the way to the others where you were met by Tommy shouting about tanks and jack pretending not to know Tommy.

the four of you went to get ready, a simple enough task or so you thought as when you looked up you noticed Tommy was putting the outfit on the wrong way around

“Are you sure it’s safe for Tommy to drive a tank..”

“help me then”

“no”

a few minutes later the four of you were now equipped with your rather baggy army uniform safe to say if it started to rain you'd have to deal with getting wet as if you put the hood up it would cover your eyes taking away your eyesight which is unsurprisingly important since you were about to drive a tank for the first time. as soon as you all thought you were ready to go to the tanks tubbo announced that although it’s a bad time he needs to go to the toilet

“he’s fucking waddling”

“y/n be nice to your best friend”

you stood laughing to yourself as Tommy was arguing with Jack about how he’s your best friend, not tubbo.

“believe it or not I’m their best friend”

“elaborate on that”

“no”

“i’d argue ranboos their best friend”

halfway through their ‘argument’ tubbo came back and rested his head on your shoulder making you jump

“you're so tiny”

“I beg your pardon tubso”

the worker came over taking you all to the tank you would be driving putting Tommy and jacks argument on hold, for the time being, you were honestly so excited to drive a tank but you were also nervous as you weren’t exactly a great driver

“y/n doesn’t have a license can I get out the tank when it’s their turn”

“you crashed your parents' car fuck off”

before you all got in you were informed that the tank wasn’t designed to take you on adventures so you were probably going to get injured

“great cant wait in you go Tommy”

Tommy got in first followed by you then tubbo and jack

“draw me like one of your beautiful tank girls”

“I failed GCSE art”

“HOW”

“that my friend is a story for another night”

now this tank wasn’t designed so three of you could look out from the top of the tank so you did what every sensible person would do in a tank…you sat on the floor next to tubbo whilst he annoyed jack by touching his face

“y/n you okay down there”

“having the time of my life”

you could hear Tommy revving the tank and from then you could just tell you were going to leave the tank covered in bruises. you sat talking to tubbo and jack who were talking louder than usual just so you could join in the conversation. not seeing what was happening made the tank ride interesting, to say the least. one minute you were messing with tubbos shoelaces the next minute you heard three boys yelling that there was a cow in the middle of the road. it was now tubbos turn to drive and rather than letting you stay with the others he dragged you with him

“you’re driving next may as well stay with me”

“Please don’t crash I will get injured”

“to be fair y/n I didn’t plan on it”

you sat near tubbo watching him drive the tank occasionally yelling words of encouragement at him for your own entertainment and totally not to your surprise he was actually doing a decent job, he didn’t crash, the tank was going quicker and the ride wasn’t as bumpy then tubbo stalled, you could hear Tommy and jack yelling at tubbo to do more killing. you laughed as tubbo would look at the worker then at you not knowing what to do

“Are you ready to drive y/n”

“I guess so”

you and tubbo swapped places and you began to drive like your good friend tubbo you were decent at driving as you managed to pick up some speed along with many comments from jack and Tommy about how bumpy the ride was alongside tubbo yelling at you that you were going to be responsible for the bruises on his arms and legs

“tubbo stop being dramatic it’s not my fault the road is bumpy”

“Y/N I'M NOT”

“Okay then you’re responsible for the bruises on my arms and legs because you decided to stall”

It was now jacks turn you sat next to tubbo where you and Tommy argued that you didn’t like how Minecraft split the caves and cliffs update into two parts

“IT SAID CAVES AND CLIFFS UPDATE AND IT DIDN'T ADD CAVES AND CLIFFS UPDATE”

“you're such a tory y/n agrees with me”

“NO I DON'T I WANTED TO EXPLORE PRETTY CAVES NOT GET CHUCKED OFF OF A CLIFF BY A GOAT”

the three of you continued arguing your points before jack interrupted you all

“we’re talking about the new Minecraft update…because it was you we weren’t really paying attention”

“I DROVE BETTER THAN ALL THREE OF YOU”

“but no you didn’t”

“YOU'RE A PRICK MANIFOLD”

before Jack could answer Tommy began ranting about the update again before being once again interrupted by jack telling him you were about to shoot things and then go up against a tank that was miles better than the one you were all in, the one thing they didn’t know is you would be going with the boss against them just so you could actually have a role in the mini battle rather than just sitting there. you stood shaking your head as Tommy and tubbo made jokes about the balls you were all given

“say it”

“I like balls”

“jack they’re talking about balls…again”

Tommy was first to shoot whilst you and tubbo stood telling jack that the two of you would be the reason you win the battle against the boss, jack went up next and you both were telling Tommy that you weren’t scared of the boss after the last bit of practice you all went back to reception with the worker where he announced the roles you were all going to have

“so my aimer loader and driver”

“Are we allowed to ram tanks”

“no”

jack was the first to realise you hadn’t received a role for the fight against the boss and spoke up about it making tubbo and Tommy realise you did in fact not receive a role

“wait what about y/n they didn’t receive a role”

the worker just nodded at the four of you confusing the hell out of the others while you stood looking around the room to avoid laughing, you didn’t want the others to know so said you’d be back later you just needed to go to the bathroom. rather than going to the bathroom you went off to meet the boss before the others and decided what role you were going to have.

after discussing what role you were going to have the pair of you went back to meet the worker to let him know you have a plan

“LOOK ITS THE BOSS”

“…and y/n”

“oh now we’re losing”

the worker went up to their table to create a plan, once you watched the worker walk away you made your way over to the table they moved to where Tommy was having a ‘date’ with a mannequin

“Woah am I interrupting something”

“I'm on a date y/n”

“y/n you really had to leave me with tubbo and Tommy”

you whispered that you were sorry so Tommy and tubbo couldn’t hear then turned your attention back towards Tommy’s date which wasn’t going very well as Tommy accidentally pulled the wig off of one of the mannequins only to find out that his ‘date’ was also wearing a wig.

it was now time for the battle clearly best friends think alike as you and tubbo both had the role of driver. you and the boss made a strong team and you surprisingly got along well with each other which made teamwork easy making you more of a challenge for Tommy’s team

“yooo this is amazing”

“you’re doing great y/n”

as soon as the boss made the final shot you cheered

“do you think we won then y/n”

“I'm not sure they did put up a good fight”

“come on let’s head back so you can be with your friends again”

the pair of you made it back after thanking him you ran to tubbo, who for some reason was on the floor, and tackled him into a hug before sitting next to him

“AH FUCK”

“HI TUBSO WHY ARE YOU IN THE MUD”

“BECAUSE WE WON”

“mhm sure”

“What role did you have y/n”

“driver”

“NO WAY ME TOO”

your celebration was short-lived as Tommy decided to chuck mud at the pair of you yelling catch when it was far too late to react, you both looked at each other nodded at chucked mud back at him and jack

“ayo we hit him”

after playing in the mud with tubbo for a while jack called you both over to hear the scores and find out who won

“Why do you both have smiley faces on your face”

“y/n used mud to draw a smiley face on my cheek so I got revenge”

in the end, Tommy's team got 10 and began celebrating that they had won

“the boss and y/n got 11”

“LETS GOOOOO”

after bragging about your win you and tubbo ran off throwing mud at each other and Tommy whilst Tommy and jack bickered about who made them lose a few moments later you and tubbo looked up to see Tommy running past you both

“I don't think he's taking the news well”

you all made your way back to the car park Tommy and jack left together tubbo stayed with you waiting for your parents to pick you up on their way back home.

“you could just stay the night at mine..we could stream for a little while I’m sure you’ve left something that you can wear for the night and tomorrow and to be fair you stay at mine all the time”

“yeah I probably do I’ll call them on the way back to yours”

“come on let’s go home”

taglist:

@bearytime @milkydisaster @dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @uselesssapphickitten @l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @augustine-is-joy @c1loudee

[skiitter]

A prompt, my dear. Hermione and Draco + “who hurt you?”

Draco Malfoy was a lot of things, the majority of which were less than desirable to any sensible person, but one thing he was not was late. His punctuality was a point of pride, in a sea of arrogance no doubt, but Hermione had come to appreciate it over the course of their working relationship. It was something she could rely on, something immovable in an otherwise dangerously murky situation. He may needle her ceaselessly and leave her to do the lions share of the paperwork, but he was always there when he was expected, an effortless air of smugness clinging to him like bad cologne.

This Sunday, however; this unremarkable, overcast Sunday in late September he was late. It was the day after her 24th birthday as well as their final meeting. The report had been ostensibly completed, the field work essentially finished, and the conclusion inevitably drawn. After the better part of a year dedicating 1/3rd of every weekend to spending most of the day with Malfoy, Hermione's Sundays were about to become her own once more; a prospect she was not all that excited about.

Everytime the chirp of the bell above the door announced a new arrival, she would glance over, expecting to see a shock of platinum hair above a signature sneer and everytime, she was disappointed.

"Another tea, miss?" The waitress asked, her expression a perfect blend of professionalism and pity.

"No, no thank you." Hermione spared another look out the window, searching for him among the crowd. "Actually, I think I'm done here. Could I get the check?"

Bundled up against the autumn chill, Hermione paid and left the Cafe' and it's memories behind. It wasn't quite noon yet, and the streets were slowly filling with the townspeople emerging to go about their days. She smiled at a few passersby but was otherwise lost in her own thoughts as she made her way to the Apparition point.

Maybe Malfoy had just decided their final meeting wasn't all that important. To be fair it was more of a formality than anything else. His decision to not show would have no negative consequence on anything other than her feelings. Feelings, of course, that she was deliberately not thinking about.

As she rounded the corner, absorbed in her denial, she didn't see him until it was too late. With an audible "oof" she ran straight into Malfoy, colliding chest to chest. She immediately bounced off but he caught her arm before she could hit the sidewalk.

"What--Malfoy?"

"Graceful as always, Granger." He let her go and she stared, wide eyed and confused, at the state of his face.

"Merlin! Your face it's--"

"Your manners leave so very much to be desired." He looked cross but it was hard to tell beneath the bruising. An ugly, mottled patch of purple marred the left side of his face, stark and violent against his pale skin. It was fresh, the edges red with the recent impact, and it appeared to have just narrowly missed his eye.

"Malfoy," she reached her hand out, ghosting her fingertips over the bruise. "What happened?"

He sneered at her and jerked away. "Keep your obligatory Gryffindor concern to yourself, Granger."

"It's not an obligation!"

"Says the war hero."

"Will you--ugh!" She huffed and dragged him back around the corner, off of the sidewalk and into an alley. "What happened?" She repeated.

"Nothing."

"Malfoy."

He looked around, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with her. "I made a wrong turn at Diagon Alley, is all."

"A wrong turn?" The incredulity in her voice was palpable. "To where? A boxing ring?"

"Just drop it, Granger."

"I will not just drop it. Look--look at your face!" She closed the space between them. "Malfoy, please. What happened?"

He sighed and the rigidity of his shoulders softened. "I forgot, okay? I went to Flourish and Blotts to get you your bloody birthday gift and when I left, I ran into some adoring fans."

"What--"

"Our former school chums don't take kindly to my presence in Diagon Alley and, after our last little spat, I'd forgotten the warning they'd left me with." Malfoy's jaw tensed and he squinted up into the clouded sunlight. "They took it upon themselves to remind me."

Hermione balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "Who?"

"It doesn't matter, Granger."

"Who?" She took a steadying breath. "Who hurt you?"

"I don't know. I vaguely recognized them from Hogwarts. It's fine."

It wasn't fine. It was categorically not fine. Malfoy was hardly the first of their class that had been on the wrong side of the war to be attacked. Harry had spent a significant amount of time trying to dispel such violent grudges and, to the best of her knowledge, it had been handled. Clearly, she was mistaken.

"We need to report this to the Ministry. Harry needs--"

"Absolutely fucking not." Malfoy gave her an indignant look. "The last person that needs to hear about this is Saint Potter."

"Malfoy, Harry's job is dealing with--"

"No, Granger. I said no."

"So what? Those nasty little insects just get to get away with it? No. I refuse. We didn't go to bloody war--"

"I was on the wrong side of that war, remember? So, yeah, we did go to war for this exact scenario to exist." He could see the lack of effect his words were having written across her face. "Granger. Please. I don't want this to become another of your crusades."

She reeled as if she'd been slapped. "Crusades?! Malfoy, it's about the injustice of it! You don't deserve to be attacked in the streets for something you did nearly ten years ago!"

"The court of public opinion begs to differ."

"Oh they'll beg alright," she snapped. At her genuine anger, his features softened and Malfoy gave her an unreadable look before looking away.

"You're such a fucking Gryffindor." He said it with an air of affection, though, and it helped to ground her back in the now.

"Thank you." Once more she placed her hand upon his bruised cheek and, to her surprise, he leaned into the touch. Her breathe caught in her lungs and she swallowed. "We--we should take care of that."

"It's just a simple spell. I'll handle it."

"No," she insisted and stepped away from him. "I will. It's the least I can do."

"This is hardly your fault."

"You went to Diagon Alley for me, remember?" She looked him up and down. "Speaking of..."

"I've been attacked and you're worrying over your stupid gift?" His tone was lighter than it had been since she'd ran into him.

"Of course I am. It's not everyday the evil Draco Malfoy buys you a gift." Hermione nodded to the Apparition point behind them. "Let's go."

"What about the Cafe? You can't honestly expect me to deny our Waitress her weekly opportunity to oogle at me." He gestured to his outfit: an expensive and perfectly tailored muggle suit that Hermione had forced him to buy after he showed up to their first meeting in robes.

"I've already been. It'd been weird to go back now. Besides, I think the bruise will overshadow your fancy slacks."

"Women like a man with scars."

She snorted. "It's hardly a battle scar, you git." when he gave her a pleading look, she rolled her eyes and looked around, to make sure they were alone. Satisfied with the lack of muggles, Hermione drew her wand and tapped it gently to his cheek. The static heat of magic bloomed between them and the ugly purple faded away, leaving his pale cheek unblemished once more. "There."

In the process of her healing, Malfoy had stepped completely into her personal space and the look he was giving her was heavy, deliberate.

"This isn't over, Malfoy. I'll find out who did this, with or without your help. They don't get to just attack you and get away with it."

"I'm hardly a weakling, Granger. I fought back."

"Good. It'll make them easier to identify."

"You're not going to let this go." It was not a question.

"No. I'm not."

"Why?"

"Because." She gave him a defiant look and he tipped her chin up with his hand. "You're my--"

"What? I'm your what?"

"Friend?"

"Is that all?" He was dangerous, but in a completely different way to the bully he'd been in their youth.

"That depends."

"On?"

"On what you got me for my birthday." She grinned and he laughed, pressing his forehead to hers a moment before pulling away and offering her his arm. She looped hers around it and let him steer them back in the direction of the Cafe.

After a lunch of finger sandwiches and tea, Malfoy finally handed her a perfectly wrapped gift that she immediately tore into. It was the latest book in a series on beasts that Rolf Scamander had been releasing, and it wasn't supposed to be out for another week.

"How did you get this?"

Malfoy shrugged, as if it was the least important thing in the world. "Money is an exceptionally good incentive."

"I love it. Thank you." She beamed at him and he cleared his throat as if it would distract her from the flush creeping up his neck.

"It's no big deal, Granger."

"To you maybe. It is to me. You know how I feel about birthday gifts." They both thought back to the spectacle she'd made of his back in June.

"I did fight for my life while I was out getting it." He grinned but the smile faded at the sharp look she gave him. "I'm joking, of course. Just a little fisticuffs, nothing serious."

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I really am. You didn't have to go all the way to Diagon Alley for this."

"Sure I did."

"Just submitting your half of the report would be gift enough."

"Lucky for you I've done both. Besides, I'm sick of using that bloody report as an excuse to be around you." Hermione blinked, unable to process the weight of what he'd said. At the shock on her face, he shrugged again. "Come on, Granger. You can't possibly think I care about work this much."

"I--you--what?"

He leaned forward and captured her chin in his hand. "My fierce, naive little lion. You're horribly dense." Malfoy gave her a soft kiss on the forehead and pulled away. "Let's go before the Waitress gets jealous."

"But. What."

"I've rendered the great Hermione Granger speechless. I am truly magnificent." His laugh brought her to her senses and she launched herself across the table to kiss him.

"Sod the waitress."

She did, in the end, figure out who hurt him and in true Hermione Granger fashion, made them rue the day they laid hands upon someone she loves.

[geekgirles]

Full Disclosure

“I’m sorry for the way I used to act towards you when we were fourteen,” she admitted before softly adding, “especially when you and Danny were beginning to connect.”

Or

In which Sam and Valerie clear the air between them.

Word count: 5176

READ ON AO3

Before we go in, I just wanted to say that I hope I did the characters justice. Really, it’s all I ask because I’m still fairly recent in the fandom (as in, actively participating rather than fangirling on my own) and I’d hate to make a travesty of characters that mean so much to me. Oh, and this one-shot can take place in whatever timeline you want: you hate PP with a passion? Don’t worry, it didn’t happen. You actually think it’s a good finale? That works too. There shouldn’t be anything that indicates this story takes place in anywhere in particular other than Amity Park, so... All you need to know is that Valerie knows.

Please, enjoy!!

As an intense throb manifested itself in her right side, eliciting an involuntary groan to escape her throat, Sam was more frustrated at herself than aching from the hit. It had been two years already since Danny had the accident that gave him his powers, consequently beginning the constant battles against ghosts that made their teenaged life significantly harder, and, as they came to appreciate their lifestyle, significantly more interesting, too. Once Danny gained his ghost powers, she and Tucker took it to themselves to make sure their friend was always supported and aided when fighting his ghostly adversaries.

And with that came the injuries. 

They certainly didn’t get hurt as often or as gravely as Danny, since he was usually the one facing the mischievous spirits head-on, but they still had to get used to their own fair share of beatings. The teachers were understandably surprised when they effortlessly completed their first aid training in Health class. 

All in all, Sam was used to getting hurt. 

Which made the fact that Valerie had landed such a perfect kick that it literally left her breathless all the more humiliating.

Valerie Gray, a.k.a. the Red Huntress. Danny Phantom’s longtime pursuer and Danny Fenton’s one time girlfriend. The once popular girl was now their trustworthy ally. And, as much as Sam hated to admit it, she was thoroughly kicking her butt. Perhaps she should have expected as much from a ninth degree black belt. 

“Had enough, Manson?” Valerie taunted with a raised eyebrow. 

Getting up slowly, Sam sent her a smirk alongside a challenging, determined look. “Never.” And with that she leaped on the ghost huntress, using her momentum to connect a punch to her face. But Valerie was faster, blocking the Goth girl’s attack with her forearm before sliding her leg under Sam’s to make her lose her balance. Seeing what her opponent was up to, the violet-eyed girl quickly got out of her way, widening the space between the two to give herself some time to think up a new strategy. 

Smirking at Sam’s maneuver, Valerie appraised her with pride. “Not bad, Sam,” she said before changing her stance, ready to pounce, “but the extra space won’t save you from this.” Leaping into the air, the Red Huntress didn’t waste a moment to knock Sam to the floor with a roundhouse kick boosted by her movements. 

Even if the Goth blocked the attack by keeping her palms up in front of her face, the sheer force behind it was still enough to knock her down. That was gonna bruise in the morning, she was sure of it. Glancing up she noticed Valerie looking down at her with a smug look on her face and her hands on her hips. Sam barely resisted the urge to scowl darkly at her. Panting, she conceded, “Alright, alright. Maybe now I’ve had enough.” 

Chuckling at Sam’s proud nature, the green-eyed girl bent down slightly to offer her friend a hand and lift her up from the floor. Once Sam was at her eye-level, she looked down on her watch, now serving as a chronometre. “Five minutes. That’s a full round! Congratulations, Sam. So far, you’re the one who’s lasted the most against me.” She applauded her, but her face betrayed her. She was about to burst out laughing. 

Snorting, the Goth girl elbowed her slightly on the arm. “Knock it off! Even if I lost, I still managed to land a few hits myself.”

“Yeah...Trust me, you don’t have to remind me.” Valerie complained with a pointed look as she rubbed her lower back. Early on in the match, Sam kneed her there. Thank goodness she wasn’t tasked with unloading the Nasty Burger’s products that week. “I’m serious, though. Danny without his powers lasts a minute and a half, tops. And Tucker...well, let’s just say that taking one hit without passing out is already a victory when it comes to him.” 

“Yeah, he and Danny really should do more exercise.” The two girls laughed at that. These past two years Danny’s skill when using his powers had skyrocketed. Enemies that used to give him a hard time were now more of a headache. He didn’t even have to pay attention to the fight to get rid of the Ghost Box. Now, as Danny Fenton… He’d gotten taller, that was for sure. But he still had the nasty habit of relying on his powers a little too much, which didn’t do his P.E marks any favours. And Tucker was still far more interested in whatever his PDA had to offer than the wonders of physical exercise. 

In truth, everyone had changed during that time, if only a little. 

Sam was still as Goth and ultra-recyclo-vegetarian as always. Her raven hair was slightly longer, now reaching her shoulders, but she still wore it mostly loose and framing her face, except for the one strand she kept in a high ponytail. Her fashion sense hadn’t changed much either. She wore a black crop top with Danny’s logo on it instead of the old purple ovalーthe town began selling merchandise of its hero to attract, and basically rob, tourists. Since she created the logo herself, she made her own outfits and nobody was none the wiser. She also stuck with plaid skirts, but this time she favoured a purple and black one instead of her old black and green. But her combat boots, accessories, and make-up were sacred. Everybody knew impending doom was near if Sam ever changed even the tiniest detail in her appearance when it came to that. 

She was still outspoken and an avid defender of animal rights, individuality, and most importantly, of Danny Phantom. Even though most people celebrated the boy and thanked him for his services, there were still some who criticised him and believed Amity Park was better off before him. Needless to say, Sam was always at the front of the line in any protest to defend Amity Park’s greatest protector. The fact that he was not only one of her best friends but also her boyfriend may have something to do with it. But even if they weren’t together, Sam knew Danny. She’d always known him. She would always defend him from those who couldn’t even begin to grasp just how noble, responsible, and compassionate he was.

The corners of her mouth curled up slightly when she remembered she’d just been sparring with what once was one of Danny Phantom’s greatest detractors. 

In a way, Valerie had probably changed the most out of everyone she knew while simultaneously not changing anything at all. 

In terms of appearance, just like Sam, she’d only modified her look slightly. She cut her long, dark brown curls so they now barely reached her shoulders instead of cascading down her back. According to her, long hair just got in the way with her suit. She originally wanted to get an undercut, but her dad almost had a cow so they compromised with short hair for now and leaving the undercut for when she was a little older. The huntress still favoured spaghetti-strapped yellow t-shirts, but now she completed her outfit with dark blue jeans or shorts (depending on the temperature) and white sneakers. She also dropped the headband due to her hair, but she kept the earrings. 

The most obvious change, though, was that she was now an ally rather than an enemy after Danny Phantom’s head. Sam feared for the worst when Valerie found out her ex boyfriend was the very same ghost she’d vowed to destroy (could she really say she and Danny were exes, though? Sure, they went on a few dates and they genuinely liked each other, but Valerie pseudo-broke up with him right when he was about to ask her to make things official... Ugh, the wonders of the teenaged heart... Always bound to give her a headache. This is why she preferred her Goth indifference...most of the time). As much as they wanted to trust Valerie was going to be sensible about it, her track record wasn’t the best, forcing them to keep an eye out in case she decided to send her more positive opinion of Danny Fenton to Hell and shoot him with her ecto-bazooka. 

Thankfully, one day Valerie just sat down with them at lunch, and when Danny tentatively asked her if they were okay, she just smiled and said, “We’re okay.” So they ate lunch in peace...until the Lunch Lady showed up and they had to send her back to the Ghost Zone. At least that time the Red Huntress was there to help them out. Ever since then, the girl sometimes fought alongside them, but for the most part she did her own thing. 

And that was something about Valerie that hadn’t changed; her hatred of ghosts. Valerie was still hellbent on getting rid of all the spirits that haunted Amity Park, with half-ghosts being the sole exception ーexcept for Vlad, Valerie held a huge grudge against him for having used her as his pawn; not like the team could complain, they all hated Vlad, after all. And that made her ruthless, determined, brutal… More than once Danny had tried talking her out of her grudge against the paranormal, explaining to her that, albeit not as numerous as the troublemaking ghosts, there were still some that just wanted to be left alone. But Valerie would not budge. She believed all ghosts lacked the humanity and self-control necessary to resist whatever crazy obsession that tied them to our world and would eventually attack. 

To Valerie, ghosts were ticking bombs. 

Seeing as, so far, most ghosts they faced were malicious or seriously causing trouble, Tucker suggested they just let her be, but the moment she actually targeted an innocent ghost (say, Wulf), then they would have to get serious with her. 

All in all, Valerie was their friend. A friend who had agreed to help her train so Danny wouldn’t have to worry so much about her safety when they were out fighting spectres. Not like he really needed to worry, she could take care of herself, but the more prepared they were, the better. And Valerie was helping her with that, and yet, the air still hadn’t been completely cleared between them. 

As much as Sam would’ve loved cutting to the chase, a part of her still wasn’t prepared to address the elephant in the room. “Not gonna lie, Valerie, I wiー” she stopped mid-sentence. The last thing they needed was to have Desirée roaming free around Amity Park just because she hadn’t been careful with her words. Clearing her throat, she went on. “I mean, I would do anything for your fighting skills. You must have every ghost shaking in their boots...or whatever they have to shake in.”

As Sam sat down on the floor of her family’s private gym, which Valerie still couldn’t get used to being in, the green-eyed girl made her way to the other side of the room far away from  the training tatami, where a middle-sized fridge was located. Pulling the door open, she grabbed two water bottles before going back to Sam. “Yeah, what can I say? I am pretty awesome.”

“And don’t forget modest.” Sam replied sarcastically. 

“Girl, when you’re as good as me, you don’t need to pretend to be modest.” She joked as she handed Sam her own water bottle, which she accepted gratefully, before sitting down on the floor next to her. “Believe it or not, though, I became a ninth degree black belt long before I started hunting ghosts.” She looked at the floor, a pensive look on her face, “...we couldn’t have afforded the classes otherwise.”

Sam did her best to suppress the urge to do a spit-take at her words. Valerie almost never brought her financial situation up. The most she used to do was remember Danny why she hated him back when she still was after him, but the topic was dropped altogether once the secret was out. Looking around her ridiculously lavish house, Sam felt like facepalming herself. How could she have been so insensitive as to remind Valerie of the life she lost?! 

“Valerie...I-I’m sorry. I should’ve told you to meet up at the park to train, but I…”

“Sam, don’t.” The huntress cut her off with a stern tone. “Don’t apologise. You have nothing to apologise for.”

“But it was insensitive of me toー” Again, she was interrupted by Valerie, who silenced her by raising her palm up in front of her.

“Please, let me talk. You don’t have to apologise for anything because you’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll admit, it’s a bit paradoxical finding out that while I was mourning my losses you’d been hiding the fact that you’re stinking rich all along. But I’m not offended by it. Actually, I think I understand.”

“You do?” The Goth girl asked in disbelief, her eyes wide open. 

The African-American girl just shrugged. “I think so. I didn’t realise it until my so-called friends kicked me out of the group, but having money attracts a lot of fakes and shallow people. People who’ll only be there when it’s convenient for them and who’ll throw you away like a used tissue the moment you have nothing else to offer. I know that better than anyone…” When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she looked up to see Sam smiling kindly at her, doing her best to get out of her comfort zone and offer her some comfort. She returned the smile. “Bottom line: you want real friends, so you never talk about your money ‘cause you don’t want to attract the wrong people. I get it.”

“You really do.”

“And I guess I’m also flattered.”

Sam blinked slowly at her. “Wow, Valerie. It usually takes a lot to take me by surpriseーwith the ghost fighting and allーand yet, here we are!” 

The huntress just chuckled softly in response. “What I mean is that I understand that it takes you a lot to let people inーand quite literally tooーbut you still invited me. That means you must trust me, if only a bit.”

Sam couldn’t help but blush at her earnest words. It was true, wasn’t it? She trusted Valerie. She would have never invited her to her house if she didn’t. And, now that she thought about it, Valerie had to trust her too if she was willing to show her vulnerable side to her. Somehow, the thought made her smile. Knowing she would have to bring up uncomfortable topics soon, the violet-eyed girl decided to alleviate some of the tension first. “Well, I’m glad you could at least get your black belt first! Otherwise we would be in for a major asskicking from some ghosts.”

That comment actually made Valerie laugh. “Oh, hush, you flatterer! Or I’ll tell Danny his girlfriend has been hitting on me.” She could only snort when Sam gasped in fake shock. “Seriously, though. I personally would love to be as genre savvy as you are. I mean, you always know what to do or have some obscure knowledge about whatever we’re facing. From the Fright Knight’s legend to how to train your dragon ghost.”

Sam merely shrugged with a lazy grin on her face, “What can I say? Obscure knowledge sort of comes with being a Goth.”

The two girls started snickering after that. As their laughter died down, Valerie noticed Sam’s smile fading from the corner of her eye, concerning her. “Sam? Is everything okay?”

“Valerie...I’m sorry.” 

That took her by surprise. After a few seconds of shock, the Red Huntress rolled her eyes good-naturedly before gently nudging her friend with her shoulder. “C’mon, Sam. I told you already. You don’t have to feel sorry for inviting meー.”

This time it was Sam who cut her off. She shook her head. “No. No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m sorry for the way I used to act towards you when we were fourteen,” she admitted before softly adding, “especially when you and Danny were beginning to connect.”

One would think that a semi-professional ghost huntress would have seen it all, and honestly, so did Valerie, but she was genuinely shocked at Sam’s apology. The shock didn't last long, though. “Are you seriously apologising for that? Sam, that was two years ago!”

Of all the things she could be apologising for...She just had to pick that one, didn’t she?

Sam groaned, frustrated and clenching her gym shorts with her hands. “I know it’s been two years, but that doesn’t change that I wasn’t the most pleasant person in the world to you for reasons that weren’t...completely pure.”

“So what?” Valerie insisted. “Neither was I for the longest time! You and Tucker were right when you called me out during Pariah Dark’s attack; how could I expect to be treated like one of the group when I used to be such a brat to you? You still eventually forgave me.” She pointed out.

“You don’t understand…” Sam whined as she rubbed her face with her hands. “While it’s true that part of my animosity towards you came from how you used to treat us, and another good chunk came from your eagerness to vaporise one of my best friends,” the Red Huntress actually had the decency to blush embarrassedly at that, “I really, really disliked you because I was...well, I was jealous. Plain and simple.” 

There. She’d said it. After years gritting her teeth and burning with envy whenever Danny and Tucker (mostly because of Danny, obviously) drooled over Paulina or any other pretty girl, she had finally admitted she was mostly jealous instead of simply not understanding what the fuss was about. Hanging out with girls more often, namely Valerie and Jazz, instead of only spending her time with the guys had really helped broaden her horizons. Especially when it came to her opinion on other girls. She was proud to say she was finally moving on from her “not like other girls��� phase. 

Even if Danny’s crush on Paulina had driven her nuts more than once, it was his budding romance with Valerie that truly pushed all her buttons and caused her deepest insecurities to rear their ugly head. Even if dating her was dangerous, Danny still wanted to be with her! He was willing to throw caution to the wind if it meant they could be a couple. And he was so protective of her when Technus attacked… As much as Sam hated to admit it, as much as she wished (to Hell with Desirée) she could ignore it all and just focus on protecting Danny from being hunted by his new girlfriend, that hurt.

That hurt a lot. 

Albeit annoying, Danny’s crush on Paulina was safe. Paulina only liked Danny Phantom. Danny couldn’t really get closer to her as his alter-ego without putting her in danger, and Danny would never put an innocent person in danger. And just like that, Paulina became unattainable. But Valerie…

Valerie liked Danny Fenton. She and Danny often just wanted to have a normal life, away from ghosts and burdens that no 14-year-old kid should shoulder. Even if the Red Huntress wanted to kill Danny Phantom, Valerie genuinely liked Danny Fenton. Despite the danger, she was closer than Paulina. And despite their close bond, she was closer to Danny than Sam herself. Because Valerie wasn’t afraid to admit her feelings, unlike her. 

In fact, hadn’t Valerie put her job before her love life, Sam knew without an ounce of a doubt that she and Danny would still be together. Because she had been too afraid to tell Danny how much he meant to her sooner. 

Yes, she had been jealous of Valerie. 

She had been jealous of the attention she received from Danny. She had been jealous of the fact that they went out on several dates and nothing could embarrass them or ruin their little moment. She was jealous because it would’ve meant things would change. 

But most importantly, she was jealous of Valerie’s guts. 

And she finally confessed it.

...which made what Valerie said next all the more jaw-dropping. 

“Yeah, I know.”

Her jaw hanging low and eyes as wide as saucers, Sam slowly turned her head to look the huntress dead in the eye. “You know?” She asked, completely flabbergasted. 

Valerie snorted. She actually snorted at her question! And while Sam was looking at her with the most comically astonished expression on the face of the planet, Valerie just regarded her with a coy smile. “No offence, Sam, but it was kinda hard to miss. I think only Danny wasn’t aware of it.”

Sam had nothing to say in response to that. 

“Besides, didn’t I tell you before I even started going out with Danny? When you like someone, if you don’t make a move, somebody else will. What did you think I was referring to other than your feelings, chess?”

“That...is true.” The Goth admitted quietly. 

Seeing her usually outspoken friend acting so despondent all of a sudden didn’t sit well with the green-eyed teenager. She sighed, “Look, Sam. I understand that you were...difficult because you were jealous. I can’t deny I once or twice acted petty towards you because I was jealous, myself. But even if I hadn’t decided to just stay friends with Danny, I don’t think we would’ve worked out in the end.”

Not for the first time that day, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last time either, Valerie had taken her completely aback. Furrowing her brow in confusion, Sam insisted, “What are you talking about? You two are the best ghost hunters in Amity Park, you guys would have been the ultimate power couple!”

Leaning back on her elbows, the Red Huntress sent the Goth a smirk, “Ah, but you’re forgetting I would’ve had to know Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were one and the same first. And I…”, for the first time since their sparring lesson began, Valerie found herself hesitating, “I don’t know how I would’ve taken that.

“Sure, I really, really liked Danny, but I had spent far longer hating his ghost half. Ever since the Cujo-related incidents I blamed him for the turn my life had taken. And even when I was growing fond of Danny Fenton, his actions as Danny Phantom still drove me nuts! I mean, he literally unmasked me right before my dad! He forbade me from ghost hunting until I got that upgrade in my suit. Could I really put all that aside in favour of having a relationship with him?

“That’s why it took me so long to face you guys once I learned the truth; I was trying to make peace with it all. I figured I could learn to forgive Danny, maybe even trust him with my life...but never with my heart again. There were too many imbalances between us for me to be comfortable in a relationship with him...and you guys are honestly better together anyways.” She winked at the ultra-recyclo-vegetarian.

“You really think so?” Sam could feel the heat making its way to her cheeks the moment Valerie nodded at her question. “I-I mean!”, ugh, how she hated stuttering!, “Danny’s always been super important to me...obviously! And we’ve always done our best to be there for each other and have each other’s backs, but there are times when I can’t help but wonder if perhaps we’re just making a mistake and we were better off as friends…” She finished with a defeated sigh. 

At the sensation of an arm wrapped around her shoulders, she turned to look at Valerie. “Sam, trust me. This is no mistake. You’re one of the very few people who understand there’s no difference between Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom; they’re both Danny and you’ve always known that and done your best to show him just that. And unlike Paulina or me, even if you hadn’t known his secret from the beginning, I’m willing to bet my right arm that you would’ve accepted both sides of him equally either way.”

At her words, Sam could only smile warmly, “You really think so?”

Valerie returned her smile. “I know so.”

Still replaying Valerie’s words and organising her own thoughts in her head, Sam turned to face her, one hand resting on her lap and the other on Valerie’s shoulder, “For what it’s worth, I still think that after a, very understandable, initial bump in your relationship, you two could’ve made a great couple too. I meant what I said when I told you that, if Danny liked you, then we would only have to make room for you at our table. I can’t think of any girl I would be willing to do that for but you, Val.”

Valerie almost gasped at Sam’s words, but she recovered rather quickly, “Thank you, Sam. That means a lot coming from you.” Resting her own hand on top of the one on her shoulder, she winked mischievously at her, “And don’t worry; I don’t go around stealing my friends’ boyfriends.”

The Goth girl snorted at that. “Glad to hear that.”

They remained like that for a moment, just enjoying the comfortable silence that had settled between them and their secret understanding. They were friends. They had similarities and differences. But that would never change the respect each felt for the other. 

Finally, getting up from the floor and dusting herself off, Valerie broke the silence, “Come on, there’s still many moves I haven’t used to kick your butt.” 

Sam smirked at the challenge, “Oh, you’re so on!”

................

The Fentons’ Emergency Ops Centre had, ironically, become their safe haven. 

Whenever they wanted to enjoy some alone time before they had to part ways or a ghost attack took place, they would simply climb up the roof and enter through the door leading to it. Although Danny could just phase or fly them there if they were really pressed for time, which was their usual way of getting there because they were always pressed for time. 

The Ops Centre was really just an excuse to spend some time together, really.

It didn’t matter what they did. Sometimes they would make out because they were a couple and couples made out with each other, didn’t they? Especially when said couple consisted of two hormone-driven teenagers. Maybe if they’d been a pair of octogenarians, the fuss of the relationship would have been elsewhere. Like how incredible it was that they’d survived that long in the first place.

Other times they just talked about nothing and everything at the same time. Sort of like what they usually did, but without Tucker. Sam would often talk about the latest hideous monstrosity their parents had intended she wore ー”Oh, you’re laughing now! But trust me, Undergrowth had much better fashion sense than my parents!”ー, or how rapidly the poles were melting and nobody was doing anything about it, or how her latest poetry reading went ー“Kwan’s getting better, actually. This time he wrote about the new scabs he got during the last game”ー, and how they could defeat the villain of the week who was somehow harder to beat than the previous one because, really, they always got harder to beat. 

And Danny would recall his parents’ latest shenanigans, or Jazz’s newest psychological experiment with ghosts that she was sure was going to work because it was just flawless; or he’d warn her about the food in his house ー”I know you don’t eat meat anyways, but don’t open the fridge. The ecto-weenies are back and this time they’ve brought BBQ sauce.” He would also complain about the workload of homework Mr Lancer had assigned them; sometimes because he didn’t think he’d have the time to finish it all, and sometimes he just didn’t know where to start because what the Heck is irony anyway? Didn’t anyone realise that what they often called irony was actually more of a paradox? How could they be teaching something wrong in English class?! And, sometimes, in those rare moments where Danny finally realised, only to forget his lesson all over again the next day, that he could count on her, Tucker, Jazz, Val ーand his loved ones, damn it!ー and confide his deepest secrets, he would open up about how being Danny Phantom was taking its toll on him. How being famous was more often than not more suffocating than flattering. How he was getting tired that his enemies only ever came back, or became stronger, or multiplied. How he feared, no, how he felt it was never going to end until he was 100% dead and not just 50%... He even still had trouble understanding what truly happened to him the day of the accident. 

And maybe they just would never know. 

And then, there were days like today. Days where they would just stay in silence, watching Amity Park since the makeshift observatory his zany but genius parents had built all on their own. Because, sometimes, watching the sunset in silence with that special someone was just enough. 

While Danny leaned against the railing, Sam was sitting on top of it, enjoying the soft breeze blowing around her and caressing her skin. “Today I trained with Valerie.”

Perking up at the sound of her voice suddenly breaking the silence, Danny turned his head slightly in her direction. “Oh?” He let out, “How did it go?”

“I managed to last a full five minutes and land a few serious hits myself.” She stated proudly. 

The ghost boy whistled appreciatively, “Five full minutes! Now that’s impressive.” He sent her a sly look and a smirk, his admiration turning into amusement, “And how many hits did you cushion?”

Curling her lip in annoyance, Sam muttered, “The fact that I’m even sitting here is a miracle in itself.”

That had Danny snickering like crazy, before a sharp pain in his arm stopped him, ��Ow!” 

To his surprise, instead of a smug Sam as he expected, he found his girlfriend gingerly rubbing her arm, a pained expression on her face. “Okay,” she panted, “that was so not worth it.”

“Here, let me help.” Gently resting his fingers on her arm, he used his ice powers to send a chilly sensation across her limb, effectively alleviating the pain. “Anything else I should know about? Did the training turn into a battle to the death?”

“Actually, we talked things out and we finally buried the hatchet.” She said seriously.

Danny furrowed the brow in confusion. “Uh, Sam? I was kidding. And I thought you already did that when she found out the truth about my powers.”

Chuckling softly, Sam could only roll her eyes with a smile on her face as she leaned close to leave a tender kiss on his lips before whispering, “Clueless.”

[thepigeonsopinion]

So…

As I said, after my theory and salt rant on the spoilers and trailers for the episode “Crocoduel” (link down below)

I would probably say my thoughts on the episode after I was done watching the episode itself. So, here I am. :)

Also, I’m on a road trip with my family and some family friends, so I watched the episode and typed this up late (or early) night (or morning) so…:p

Anyways! Before I start saying my thoughts on the episode, let’s do a summary or a synopsis of the episode.

Warning: Spoilers for “Crocoduel”

The episode starts during Kitty Section Rehearsal. Everyone is having fun, while Kitty Section is playing. When Kitty Section finished their set and everyone was praising them Luka all of sudden mentions that Marinette hasn’t been to rehearsals in a while, which leads Luka to think that she’s avoiding him, which also leads to him starting to get depressed. Everyone tries to reassure him that she isn’t avoiding him, she’s just really busy (mainly Rose). It doesn’t work and Luka gets more depressed and leaves the group. The group then tries to make a plan to help Luka and Marinette by exploiting the twins b-day.They ask Juleka if she approves of the plan and she nods. Juleka then tells Luka about the party that they’re having on the boat. Luka gets excited to see Marinette and everyone at the party. After, Marinette finds about the party on the Liberty she’s able to piece together the groups plan and ask Juleka if she can somehow find a way for Luka not to be there at the party. Juleka tries to tell or ask Luka if he can’t attend the party, but she doesn’t have the heart to tell him. Then, all of sudden Jagged comes the through the porthole of the twins room. Jagged gives Luka the attention while Juleka is in the corner. Anarka burst into room to tell Jagged he is not allowed on the boat, which results in Jagged being invited to the twins b-day party. On the day of the party, while everyone is going down to the Liberty, Juleka starts to feel anxious about not being able to comply to everyone’s wishes. When Marinette goes to thank Juleka she sees Luka and starts to panic and leaves below deck. Luka takes this as a sign she doesn’t want to be his friend anymore and starts feeling depressed, which almost causes his akumatization Luckily, everyone is there to reassure and comfort him. Meanwhile, with Juleka and Marinette, Marinette asks her why Juleka wasn’t able to not invite Luka, which Juleka starts to feel guilty about it which almost causes her akumatization, but Marinette is there to comfort her. Cue, Jagged coming aboard the Liberty and greets Luka. They go downstairs so Jagged can give his present to Luka. Juleka starts to feel left out and Marinette calls him out. Jagged explain to them that it was a misunderstanding and tells them that the gift was for Juleka and the gift Luka gets is an old record of Jagged and Anarka’s is old music. Anarka sees this and tells him not give Luka that because it’s the reason they fell apart. Jagged disagrees with Anarka and they get into argument, which results in both of them being akumatized. Everyone evacuates the boat and watches the two akumas. The akumas instead of putting an onslaught on Paris they fight each other in a battle. But, when Ladybug appears and intervenes they both go after her. Meanwhile, Adrien is getting ready for a photoshoot (i assume idrk and idrc :)) and sees the commotion and transforms into Chat Noir. (ok guys yk the drill) Ladybug and Chat Noir fight against the akumas, then Ladybug has to use Lucky Charm. The charm leads her to get Juleka and give her the tiger miraculous, which debuts the super heroine Tigress Pourpre (or purple tiger as it said in the english sub :)). Meanwhile, the akumas bring their fight up to the sky and have a stare down before the two super heroines intervene. They get the akumatized object. Tigress uses her power “Collision” (which i still don’t know what it does other than it sends a power full force or punch). They capture the akuma and Ladybug does her Miraculous Ladybug and everything returns as the way it was before the akuma attack. Jagged and Anarka start arguing again until Juleka finally stands up and yells at them to talk instead of argue. They two are shocked, but comply and they make up. The party continues, Jagged and Juleka have their little moment, and Marinette and Luka have a talk about how Marinette avoiding Luka made him feel, which ends on them agreeing to be friends. End of episode.

Wow! That was a long, detailed, and unnecessary summary, but, oh well it’s too late now. :p

Now onto my thoughts on this whole episode :)

So, let’s start off from the beginning. I liked how the costumes were the exact same as the “Silencer” episode, EXACTLY the same :) (you can tell i’m being sarcastic) But, in all seriousness I wish the outfits were a bit different, but I get it, I still like the original costumes though. Luka being sad about Marinette really struck a sad chord in my heart (because I have a soft spot for Luka). And when Rose tried to cheer up Luka by saying she was just busy with water ponies and all that, some might find that stuff endearing and funny, but tbh I found that kinda unnecessary. Not to mention, the way Rose described Marinette’s favorite “water pony” “Pom Pony” it suspiciously sounded a lot like Adrien Freaking Sunshine Agreste. I mean “has a gold mane. that is just so good to brush! But he is super sensible” doesn’t that ring a bell of some kind, it’s kinda obvious with the gold mane, but then again I might be looking to far into that. Anyway, moving forward, I know Juleka is kinda like the outcast or the seventh wheel of the group, but like come on! It was clear that she didn’t think that the plan was great idea, but she just didn’t have the courage to say anything. Like, can’t anyone see that she seems uncomfortable. But, I guess that was a bit redeemed when they gave us a cute julerose moment. Moving forward, to when Alya was talking to Marinette, so the scene itself wasn’t that bad, but when Marinette went up and said and I quote “But…it’s going to be so weird! You know that Luka loves me and I love Adrien! And every time we see each other. he gets hurt because he knows I will never feel the same!”, “You know that Luka loves me and I love Adrien!” “I LoVe AdRiEN!?”. I swear to everything that is keeping me sane if I hear Marinette mention how much she LoVeS AdRiEn and how much she wishes he would notice her I’m going to lose it. I mean, all crushes are valid, but come on! Do we a need a reminder EVERY FREAKING EPISODE! Also, where are the Adrien pictures I swear they were there before, but idk. Also, for once I agree with Alya, she can’t keep avoiding Luka I mean look at this sad boy…

I don’t wanna see this boy frown I wanna see this boy happy and play happy chords on his guitar not sad ones :( Anyway, more into the episode, I feel so bad for Juleka. She really was everyone’s scapegoat this episode. Not to mention, how she felt left out and guilty at the same time. For one, not being as acknowledged as one should be on their b-day on both her family and friends. And then she also felt guilty for not complying to Marinette’s request and feeling bad if she did comply to Marinette’s request. Moving along with the episode, I know that Jagged being Luka and Juleka’s dad is a big “shocker” but come on Marinette you knew that Jagged was Luka’s dad you were there! It so easy to piece together that he’s also Juleka’s father too because, well they’re twins! But, I digress. Speaking of twins, everyone is aware that Luka and Juleka are twins, but (and yes I am bringing this back up) in the synopsis they only say “Juleka’s Birthday”, I would’ve played it off if no one knew that they were twins and it was supposed to be a big reveal where everyone found they were twins (even if Astruc spoiled it already) but no, everyone was aware that they were twins, so I don’t see why it they couldn’t have just added his name in or said the Twin’s Birthday. But, okay I guess they’re just lazy. So, where was I? Oh, right! So,Marinette goes below deck and Juleka follows and in which results in Marinette comforting her. And I feel like that this is the reassurance that Juleka needed, to know that everything was going to be ok because when you look at her face in that scene all her negative thoughts leave her and she feels liberated of some sorts. Fast forward to when the parents get akumatized, three words Couffaine Family Drama and that’s it, that’s legit all I got on that. Anyways! Onto when Ladybug intervened in the akuma fight, I still don’t get why they had to include the scene of Adrien getting ready for something, I kinda think that scene was a bit unnecessary. Like, even if that scene wasn’t included in the final cut of the episode I would’ve been fine, but okay we’ll just deal with the scene. Not to mention, they had to make Chat Noir appear right after Ladybug get hits by the canon ball, some people say coincidence, I say convenient. Now, let’s talk about the lady of the hour, the new super heroine, Tigress Pourpe! I LOVE HER! and I’m not joking. Even when Juleka met Roar, her kwami, I was like “YES!” because Roar actually is the one that helps Juleka get her confidence to help her in suit and out. Not to mention, the relationship between the two is really cute. Even, Juleka’s suit is beautiful and very detailed and you can see the confidence that the Juleka has in the suit. And I AM HERE FOR IT! I also love that Juleka’s super heroine identity is apart of her overall character arc because of how you can see that Juleka standing up to her parents is the first step for her to be able to overcome her anxieties and become more confident in herself. Also, the Jagged and Juleka moment was so cute. I kinda underestimated Jagged as father figure. You can really see that he is trying his best to spend time and provide for his kids and I love it. Now onto the final scene, first of all, I am so relieved that Luka didn’t say “You and Adrien are meant to be” because I swear if he did I would’ve been dead on the floor. Second of all, I freaking melted when Luka said “it hurt more not to see you”. You can tell how much Luka loves and cares about Marinette when he only needs to be her friend to be satisfied, he doesn’t have to be in a serious relationship with her he just needs to be her friend and be able to see her. Luka deserves so much more than what the show has given him.

And with that my rant and review on the episode “Crocoduel” is finished.

I know I probably left some things out, but if I have an epiphany I’ll probably just post it later. Now that this is finished I’ll probably also do a rant or review on the episode “Wishmaker” because I’m very hyped to see it and I know I’ll have a lot to say about it.

And with that I hope everyone has a great rest of their day (or night)! :)

And always remember…

But that’s just my opinion (・ε・)

[sunseteyes]

DREAM OF A LOYAL, BRAVE, AND TRUE HEART; E. KIRISHIMA

theme/s: mulan & cinderella inspired. a story of the loyalty of a warrior to their prince, and how it flourished into something more.

word count: 1,331 words

roze’s note: this was supposedly entitled The Slipper’s Reflection but it became longer lmao. i felt like i needed to add Loyal, Brave, and True because i am loving that song so far. enjoy reading and stay safe always~ also, what is a disney event by roze without angst? be prepared for this one. 

(f/n) = fake name

"that child is not mine, why do you kept insisting on making them live with us? with your children?"

those were the words of the woman whom you've thought is your mother—your real mother.

it had been years since then, keeping to yourself that you had known of the truth already.

you didn't know why you continued to stay in that household, even if your step mother and sisters had clearly expressed their huge dislike on you. however, your father was a different case. he genuinely loves you, even if you were born from another woman who has now passed away and gave you to his custody.

"why do you have to go? you are already ill. you can't go to war with this." you hid behind the wall, slightly glancing over the door that was left ajar, peaking inside.

"i have to. it's for the honor of this family."

"what honor? you've already disgraced us with that other child of yours!"

"that is why i'm atoning to my sins. this is my way of atoning them. please be good to (y/n). that child has no one else but us."

there were no more words left to hear but you heard more than enough in order to make a decision that would greatly benefit everyone.

the night that you escaped and ran away with your father's armor, you thought of all the memories in the home that you were about to leave from. it was then that you realized that most of them were not one of pleasantry that a normal person who doesn't have any inkling of want to stay could possibly handle. you were different. you wanted to be there for your father, just as much as he was there for you, to feed you, to give you a shelter.

the only thing he lacked upon was his sensibility to see how the other people in the house was treating you.

with one last look from the house you never called home, you journeyed towards a fate unknown.

"attention soldiers! the prince has arrived to greet you!"

your knees buckled at the command, your back straightening as your eyes landed upon the bunch of horses and riders that appeared, looking majestic in their color schemes, clothes and demeanor.

you glanced at them, one by one. you were deeply astonished more so when you had seen the man that held a heavy presence and definitely a much-befitting title.

"greetings, prince eijirou! it's a pleasure to have you here." your captain greets the said man as he stays rooted in, high on his horse. yet despite all of this, his eyes only displayed an inclination of pride suitable enough for his stature. from afar, you could only admire him and his presence.

"the pleasure is mine, captain iida." the red haired prince responds with a bright smile. and just then, he scans his eyes through your way. you barely had the time to comprehend what was happening when you made eye contact with him.

you look away, not letting your gaze linger out of an unknown reason. shame? guilt? after all, you were not supposed to be there anyway. you went there through your father's name.

and with an identity that you could barely call as yourself.

you avoided the prince's eyes ever since, afraid that he had caught onto your lie somehow. however, his visit soon ended and you were able to breathe freely since then.

the training in becoming a warrior for war was proven to be such a difficult task and you had learned it the hard way, your captain, iida, seems to be keeping an eye on you, probably sensing your lack of experience and even basic skills. you have thought of giving up, but the thought of going back to a household that only one could accept you was ebbing in your mind, making you change your mind rather as quick as the thought came to pass by.

the prince visits again, much to your surprise.

"what’s your name, soldier?” he questions you. you felt gazes from the other people despite being far away from everyone. yet you couldn’t really blame them. you have a royal talking to you—speaking to you directly. for everyone else, it’s an honor to be in your situation.

“(f/n)... your highness.” you glance down but blinked up once again when the reminder of your captain to always raise your chin up comes to mind.

you caught sight of his grin by then, his sharp teeth in full display, yet looking very gentle still.

“(f/n)....” he repeated by himself, seemingly lost in his thoughts for over a second.

“i’ll remember that name!” he grins again before taking off to another soldier. he must have been asking each and everyone, you could only guess.

somehow, his bright attitude relieved you of your thoughts of the incoming war you are about to face.

“(y/n),” you hear the yourself, saying a name that you could identify as yours, unlike the other that was not. “my name is (y/n).” you say to him the next time the prince decided to approach you when you were all by yourself.

his smile was like a sun that shines beneath the rain, or maybe the rainbow that comes after the storm.

“i’m honored to know your real name, (y/n).” he whispers, so that it wouldn’t be heard by the others.

yet it echoes in your mind, louder than it was said as you fought in the real battle. blood and sweat prickling your skin, the clashing of metals ringing in your ears, the musk of gunpowder and bodies either dead or alive.

actually, your whole body was going numb with how much exhaustion that you were feeling. but still somehow, it was the face of the prince that was on your mind, it was his voice that overpowers the sound of the guns and swords that was around you.

“why did you choose to be here?” prince eijirou questioned you one time, during one of his many visits in the camp. “you don’t... belong here, (y/n).”

you knew he didn’t say it in a mean way. that was why you smiled and looked up the sky, feeling the gentle breeze pass by your forms, as if peace were just around the corner.

“if i don’t belong here, where do you think i belong, your highness?”

you didn’t know if it was sweat or blood that dribbles down the side of your face. but either way, it doesn’t matter. your gaze was focused on the eyes of your opponent, colliding your sword with theirs.

“(y/n)... is it too late for me to stop you from going?”

you noticed the beauty of the red hues of his eyes, much alike the color of his hair that gave you a sense of how handsome he looked with how it resonates well with his outfit too.

“i have to do this, your highness.” you look away, gently landing your gaze on the horses by the stable and your fellow soldiers that trained with you for the last year.

“this is my way of redemption, you see. i’m not born in this world with any expectations. now that i’m here, i feel like i am doing the right thing, you know?”

when you looked at him, it seemed that he wanted to say something more.

but he didn’t.

“i really hope we’d see each other again, (y/n).”

“i hope so too, prince eijirou.”

“call me eijirou the next time we meet, okay?”

you smiled that time. “okay.”

you didn’t know that it was the very last thought you’d recall—last memory. you never really expected to have met someone that you’d look forward into seeing again, aside from your father.

you were glad, nevertheless. even if time was surely running out, you were happy it was him who you’ve last seen in your mind.

prince eijirou. maybe you could see him in another life instead.

[missjosie27]

Merry Christmas, My Love

Hey, everyone! It’s that time of year again and here is my gift that I wish to bestow. Merry Christmas, @lins-hogwarts-mystery I hope I did your MC justice.

A big thank you to @hphmsecretsanta2020 for organizing this again. I will always participate! Without further ado!

Clara Lin loved snow. The white powder of frozen ice crystals always held a special place in her heart since she was little playing in the fields of Oxford. At Hogwarts, Christmas time became that much more special. Even with the underlying horror cursed vaults, there was always time to celebrate the holidays in a merry fashion. This year in particular she and her friends agreed to stay behind and spend time together over the course of winter break.

And what better way to celebrate that than a snowball fight on Christmas Eve?

“I got you! HAHA-” WHAM!

Charlie Weasley’s momentary triumph was silenced by Tulip’s double decker snowball smashing him in the side of the face, causing everyone else to laugh.

Staying behind were also Rowan, Penny, Barnaby, and Tonks who were all participating in the battle of winter circa 1989. Even Merula had skipped out on going home and though she and Clara would never be best friends, the two were amicable enough to have a snowball fight without getting too intense...mostly. They were on different teams after all.

The contest played out within the training grounds, so there wasn’t much cover to be had as far as trees or underbrush but then again magic could make up for lack of natural cover. On one side was something akin to a medieval castle, complete with five foot high walls, a drawbridge, and a flag. The other was a giant circular wall, good for combating attacks from all sides but vulnerable to a possible sir attack. In any case, standing up even for the slightest moment was unwise as Charlie found out first hand.

“She’s got good aim,” he muttered rubbing his cheek while dodging another projectile.

Clara couldn’t help but giggle. Even the person with the best reflexes amongst their Gryffindor brethren could be sniped by the cleverest Ravenclaw.

“Bombs away!” Penny yelled out hucking up a snowball into the cloudy winds of nowhere.

“Best to aim a bit first,” Rowan chided kindly as she adjusted her glasses while gathering more snow in her vicinity for the purpose of more ammunition.

“Merula’s team is eating our lunch,” Charlie lamented. “We need a new strategy.”

“Ooo!! I can help!” squealed out the tiny voice of Clara’s little sister, Emily, otherwise known as ‘Em’. She was five years younger but often associated herself with her big sister’s friends and refused to not be included in the festivities. A first year Hufflepuff, she was eager to help but lacked imagination.

“Keep firing as many snowballs as you can,” Rowan assured her again in an understanding tone that placated the little girl. “I think I have an idea.”

The teams were equally divided- Clara, Charlie, Penny, and Rowan on side while Merula, Tulip, Tonks, and Barnaby were on the other. Em was considered young enough (and insignificant enough to the female Slytherin) that her presence was not decisive enough to affect the outcome. But any competition featuring Merula Snyde guaranteed to be intense. After all a rivalry did not subside just because the two girls had formally agreed to work together in finding the cursed vaults.

“What would that be? Now would actually be a good time,” Clara observed as more snowballs skimmed the top of their fort. Charlie had to chuck a few more of his own to prevent Tonks from getting any closer.

“Simple. We use a freezing charm to turn one of our snowballs into a giant ice ball. I’ll use a propulsion charm to send it forward. With any luck their castle should come crumbling down and victory ours!”

“What the heck? I’m in!” Penny said excitedly over the noise, her rosy cheeks becoming apparent in the winter weather which was fast becoming colder in the later afternoon. Pink contrasted her light blue outfit (she was also the only one still wearing a skirt). Charlie’s Quidditch reflexes served him well but even he couldn’t overcome the odds of beating four other teengers surrounded by a full blown fort.

“I thought we weren’t allowed to use magic. Wouldn’t that be cheating?” Em asked, naive to the fact that no one adhered to that rule during a wizard snowball fight.

“Em, they’re using magic already,” Clara said bluntly, her practical nature coming into play already. She adjusted her glasses (being practically blind without them) and peeked out over the top and sure enough, saw the evidence needed to prove her accusation.

“Merula...I knew it,” she breathed out, frost emanating from her lips. “A banishing charm.”

“So that’s why those snowballs keep coming in so hot,” Rowan said, rubbing a gloved hand underneath her chin.

“And Tonks is using her metamorphagus ability to turn her nose into a trunk!” Charlie added, tossing another snowball back the other way and ducking down. “Bloody, cheater.”

“Then I say we hold nothing back,” Clara suggested.

“Sure that won’t be a problem with Barnaby?” Penny teased.

“He’s six foot three and can eat three turkeys in one setting, he’ll be fine,” the Gryffindor girl responded with a small blush trying to ignore feeling the pang of guilt at the idea of pelting him with snowballs. But there was no time to waste and when it came to December battles amongst the powdery, ice cream hills of Hogwarts all bets were off.

“Let’s do this,” Rowan remarked. Taking out her wand and removing one of her gloves, she summoned one of the snowballs while the rest their magic to summon snow from the ground to steadily grow it to the size of a grapefruit, spinning like the back wheel of a car, glistening in the glowing pink light of the evening sky.

“Now it’s really time for bombs away,” Penny giggled fond of muggle sayings.

“Oh I’d say so,” Rowan grinned mischievously. “Once that thing blows open their fort wall, Clara you and Charlie charge forth and win the battle.”

“What should I do?” little Em asked, still eager to help.

“Just keep throwing snowballs with Penny and Rowan, okay?” Clara ordered. She was quite protective of her sister even in light hearted situations such as these. Besides, despite being the most practical of the group the sixteen year old carried a competitive streak of her own.

“Three...two...one...NOW!”

At Clara’s command, Rowan muttered the necessary incantation and sent the massive ice ball at top speed towards their adversaries. Such was the speed, it had no trouble bursting through their castle with such force that it did exactly as Rowan foretold.

“CHARGE!” Charlie howled above the din as he and Clara rushed forward dodging strikes issued by their opponents, weaving and somersaulting in and out before performing an attack of their own.

“Eat snow! Take this!” Clara laughed as she struck Tulip and then fired another shot at Merula which caught her straight in the face (she never tired of one upping the Slytherin girl). But when wheeling around to do the same to Barnaby she came upon a strange sight. Her boyfriend didn’t seem to have his heart in the friendly competition at all. On the contrary, handsome, chiseled features were flat and carried a degree of melancholy unusual especially on Christmas.

My love, what’s the matter?

But before Clara could drop her snowballs and inquire further, someone beat her to the punch as a powerful burst of white exploded in the face of the burly Slytherin.

“Yes!” Charlie Weasley yelled out triumphantly. But Clara was not out of danger just yet, in her hesitation a projectile just missed the back of her head and only because Barnaby moved her out of the way just in time.

“Merula!” he said crossly. “Come on, don’t cheat.”

“Speak for yourself,” the Slytherin witch said with equal disdain. “We said no magic and yet here we are.”

“You broke the rule first,” Charlie argued.

“Right like you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“Enough,” Clara cut across the cacophony of argument which was reaching a boiling point. “It’s getting dark. Let’s go back inside.”

Her insistence, as well as her leadership qualities over the group won over as the magically flying snowballs ceased and even Merula despite her snarling, gave in to logic though it was apparent from the look on her face she would have continued given the opportunity.

“Fine, Lin,” she said with a shrug that failed to hide its competitiveness.

Whistling over, Clara signaled to Rowan, Penny, and her sister that the fight was over but that was not the end of the drama. Looking back towards Barnaby, the sadness etched on his face had not dissipated in the slightest.

“Are you okay?” she asked kindly, mittened hands interjoing for a brief moment before Barnaby pulled away.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure don’t look fine.”

Barnaby was much better at hiding his emotions than a certain other Slytherin and gave a smile that would have seemed natural were it not for the previous circumstances.

“Don’t worry about me, Clara. We have a whole Christmas ahead of us. And pudding!” he added excitedly.

The childlike enthusiasm that normally enraptured her would have normally worked, but being the sensible Gryffindor she was (a rarity in the house of the brave) could tell this was not the entire story. Nevertheless, she did not press further...for now.

“Alright.”

She was given an affectionate kiss before the group trudged back to the castle as the light decreased and the day drew to a close. Even holding hands walking to the entrance felt oddly out of place.

“Good match, Clara Lin,” Tulip said with a wink. “See ya tomorrow for the feast.”

“Bye, Clara!” Penny waved cheerfully as she descended towards the basement and thereby the kitchens.

With the exception of her housemates and sister with whom she shared a common room, everyone waved a hearty goodbye but her boyfriend did not say anything other than giving a quick kiss on the forehead before lumbering off quickly behind Merula. How ironic it should be that the youngest among them should voice aloud her suspicions.

“Barnaby seemed sad,” Em mentioned as they approached the fat lady.

“Hm?” Clara asked, not expecting such a comment from her eleven year old sister.

“He kissed you but not the usual way,” came the innocent response. “Maybe he’s homesick.”

“Barnaby’s fine, I’m sure of it. If he says so, I believe him.”

“Do you believe everything I’ve told you.”

Clara rolled her eyes at her little sister.

“It’s different with siblings, Em. You’re just lucky mum told me to let you tag along.”

“I didn’t need to tag along to know your boyfriend didn’t wanna throw snowballs.”

At this conjecture, Rowan gave the password (Festum Maximus) but not before the remark caused Clara to pause for a brief second before continuing into the common room. She knew Barnaby and would be aware of any personal problem or grief he had within his psyche.

Right?

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

Clara briefly forgot about the snowball fight after sharing some hot cocoa with Charlie and then some brief but good natured gossip with Rowan. The two girls discussed all manner of things as they usually did- presents, family, relationships, and what they would wear to the feast the next day however fancy or casual. But soon the warm and coziness of their dormitory overtook them and without fuss or fanfare fell asleep into the soft snows into the night, falling down silently within the December darkness.

By morning, however, the same excitement came upon them both as light permeated through the stained glass windows. The snow had since ceased, but a fresh layer of powder brought more excitement to an otherwise extremely white Christmas. And presents were waiting.

“Race you down!” Rowan said with a laugh as she bounded out of her bed, blue robe flying behind her.

“No you don’t!” Clara shouted back.

It wasn’t long until they were opening presents of which there were many laying under the tree. Charlie was already one step ahead of them, a blue Weasley sweater with a large ‘W’ inscribed on the front courtesy of the kindly Mrs. Weasley whom Clara had acquainted with by now.

“Happy Christmas, Clara!” the redhead said cheerfully.

“Happy Christmas to you too, Charlie.”

“You two seem to have quite a few gifts. Don’t hold back on my account,” Charlie said with a good natured chuckle and waggle of the eyebrows.

Neither of the girls did. Trying to be sensitive to the fact that her best male friend (aside from her boyfriend) did not come from wealth, Clara and Rowan opened their presents slowly and with a degree of caution. The latter came from a naturally wealthy family due to the success of their tree farm while the former, not rich by any stretch of the imagination, still accrued enough gifts to acquire a sizeable load- treacle fudge from Hagrid, a Gryffindor Quidditch scarf from Charlie, a cookbook from Em (‘haha’ she thought sardonically given her lack of skill in making cuisine of any type), a red dress from Penny hand stitched, a new mug from Rowan, further sweets from Mrs. Weasley, and a book on Chinese Mandarin from her parents, no doubt to further education as a potential ambassador like they wanted. Annoying, but even so Clara knew her parents loved her all the same despite their flaws.

After an hour or so she thought that all of her presents had been opened until Rowan flipped her one last gift, missed originally from the large pile.

“It’s from Barnaby,” she explained.

Of course! How could I have forgotten?

Clara hoped he had enjoyed his gift down in the dungeons (Newt Scamander’s latest book on creatures) but had not yet detected his own token of gratitude. It was actually quite small- a little rectangular box no bigger than ten centimeters wrapped in red and green paper with sparkles topped with a golden bow. All in all the decoration by itself was impressive.

Opening up, her jaw almost dropped.

It was a moving photo of Clara and her family before Jacob disappeared. Everyone appeared radiantly happy but there was reason for it. Right away she discerned that this was the photo she’d given Barnaby three years at the end of their third year before parting ways. A wave of nostalgia hit her as she witnessed her parents smiling and waving, Jacob’s tepid nervousness at what he was about to face, his younger sister giving a gigantic hug, while little Emily sucked on a pacifier, blissfully content in doing so. The meaning was not lost on the sixth year Gryffindor: a time when her family had been happy and unspoiled by the loss of a child. The photo was framed in silver and carried a heartfelt note.

May your family always guide you even in the darkest of times.

-Love, Barnaby

Wiping her eyes, Clara looked up towards Rowan and Charlie who had also noticed the scene.

“This was so beautiful,” she spoke quietly.

“Aw, hun,” Rowan comforted sitting beside her, embracing the fireside. “You know he’d do anything for you.”

“I’m wondering...maybe Em wasn’t so crazy. What if he really was struggling with something and I ignored him?”

“You’ll see him at the feast,” Charlie reasoned, playing with a dragon toy Bill had given him from Gringotts. “And I’m sure he’ll love how much you appreciated the gift.”

Clara supposed that might be true but she couldn’t help but feel something was amiss. Either way, her cursebreaker instincts would be put to the test in finding out the truth. Barnaby never held back from her. He was always jolly and upbeat, why should this holiday season be any different?

I just hope I’m not too late….

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

The Hogwarts feast was as grand as it always was- twelve enormous fir trees decorated with an array of colorful ornaments decked the halls, wreaths, mistletoe, and holly hung from the ceiling in a wide array of patterns. Along the tables belonging to each house lay a smorgasbord of dishes- roast turkey, mashed potatoes, sprouts, chicken, green beans, pudding, treacle tart, and so much more. The kitchen pulled out all the stops and Professor Dumbledore sitting at the head of the staff table gave his stamp approval, his blue eyes twinkling with holiday joy.

“To the many few who opted to stay behind for our voluptuous feast I say- tuck in.”

Charlie roared with approval as he ravenously delved into the goodies with Clara and Rowan not far behind. It didn’t take long for the rest of the group to show up- Penny, Tulip, Tonks, etc. They were the only one among the sixth years that had stayed behind with a mere handful of younger students hanging around awkwardly by themselves. The teenage Gryffindor would have given more thought to them were it not for the fact that she was anticipating a certain someone.

“Have you seen, Barnaby?” she would ask every time a new guest sat down at the Gryffindor table (it didn’t matter who sat where at this point). No one knew. Her sister remained blissfully unaware of course by the time she arrived, bragging about how many presents received that year.

Though trying to enjoy the scrumptious feast at hand, Clara couldn’t but look up every so often or so for her boyfriend...which by Rowan’s calculations was every five minutes.

“You’re not even eating,” came her best friend’s admonishment. “Relax, he’ll be here.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“He can eat more than the rest of us combined. Why would he miss the opportunity?” Charlie reasoned.

“The feast is his favorite part of Christmas,” Penny said, reaching across and squeezing Clara’s hand.

Despite the kindly reassuring of her friends, it wasn’t until Clara caught a flash of green that she truly began to seek out answers. Unfortunately, the green sweater did not belong to a burly man of about 190 centimeters but of a Slytherin girl recognized as her greatest rival (and pest at times). Merula joined their table without fanfare but right away everyone could tell there was something amiss. Far from being a ‘friendly’ person you could always count on a sarcastic or snarky remark from Merula Snyde. Not so this time around.

“Lin. I think you need to go see Barnaby,” she stated bluntly, getting straight to the point.

The table immediately ceased eating at this development, not that Clara had consumed much beforehand.

“What?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“Are you deaf, Lin? The bighead isn’t even interested in eating and that’s saying something…” she huffed in frustration knowing sensitivity wasn’t her strong suit and tried to deliver the news more amicably. “Just see him, okay? He doesn’t want to talk to anyone else.”

Were this their first year, the amount of trust in Merula would have been below that of a snake. But five years later, she would not have informed Clara of something that delicate were it not of serious importance. They were collaborative rivals after all...not bitter enemies. At least not anymore.

“Where is he?” came the simple question.

“In the courtyard freezing his arse off. Just...don’t let him do anything stupid. More than he already does.”

Clara wasted no time in getting up from the table. She didn’t even bother to look back at the reactions her friends may or may not have had. The hunch of the previous day had been right...but she’d fail to recognize it. For Merlin’s sake even little Em could tell. What was so deficient within herself that her own boyfriend stood out on Christmas alone in the cold?”

“Sis?” Em called out but it was no use. She was out of the Great Hall before anyone could say so much as ‘Doris Crockford.’

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

It didn’t take long for Clara to reach the desired destination. So frantic was her pace, there was barely time to button up her jacket, pull on her black knit gloves and hat, while also adjusting her hair into its usual long ponytail. But none of that mattered. Personal comfort could be foregone in the face of a significant other suffering needlessly. Numerous anxious thoughts raced through the brain upon the approach, seeing that he was dressed in a dark brown jacket, jeans, a blue and red hat with a puffball on top complete with calf level brown boots.

Something was wrong...something was wrong and I didn’t bother to ask. I just assumed. What if I made him upset? What if he wants to break up?

“Calm yourself, Clara,” she admonished herself. “Barnaby wouldn’t hold back anything from you.”

Despite that attempt at reassurance, it didn’t do much for her nerves. That being said, a Gryffindor did what was necessary in spite of fear. For better or worse, this Christmas conversation had to occur. For Merlin’s sake, even Merula knew when something was off. But the analytical mind wouldn’t let the issue go until she found out what plagued him so.

“Barnaby!” the cursebreaker said in a tone that fully betrayed her anxiety. “Merula told me you were out here. Is everything okay?”

“Did you like your present?”

The simple reply, a question to a question. In fact she was so taken aback by it, words failed her for a brief moment.

“I-uh….yes. Of course I did, but that’s not the reason I came out here.”

She took both his hands in hers, noting just how much taller he was in situations like these. It took quite the effort to kiss him but the primary concern lay with the heart- underneath the archway of the west aqueduct in the courtyard, twinkling white crystals winking in the late early morning sun. Both of their breaths resonated but only one had trouble looking the other in the eye.

“Was my present not what you wanted? I know you’re interested in being a Magizoolist but if there was something else I could get you instead…”

A finger pressed against her rosy, red lips.

“But did you like mine?”

The question, being repeated twice became a source of puzzlement now.

“Barnaby I already told you I loved it. It’s not often I get to see a picture of my family whole like that…” she paused, narrowing her eyes but not unkindly. “Why?”

“If you’re happy that’s all I care about on this special day.”

“But if you’re not, how can this day be special?” Clara countered. “Please...don’t keep me out. What’s wrong. Merula sees it and so can I.”

There could be so many explanations as to why her boyfriend was upset. But this wasn’t a cursed vault where a keen, undiluted mind could be put to the task in finding it. It didn’t require analytics, but empathy.

Barnaby stuffed mittened hands into the pockets of his jeans, turning his head to the side.

“I...I thought if you could realize how important your family is to you maybe it might help...with mine,” he breathed out.

“What do you-oh…” Clara said, letting out a soft sigh of realization. “Your dad.”

“Yes.”

“He yelled at you again in a letter.”

“No.”

“He disowned you?”

“No.”

“He said something-”

“Clara,” the sixteen year old Slytherin said sharply though the aim of his emotions was not directed towards her. “He didn’t send me anything this year. Nothing.”

It took a second for the Gryffindor to sink that in her brain.

“Nothing?”

“Our relationship has been bad for awhile. But at least he sent me presents. Heck, he liked that I was good at fighting and eating. I love both those things.”

“You’re more than just a fighter and an eater,” she soothed in a soft tone, rubbing his arm. “You know that.”

“I do,” he said, still not looking directly at her. “But with me constantly disobeying his wishes and taking my own path in life...it makes me realize my family has always been rubbish. Those presents were only under the three if I did what he said...and the wrapping paper was always lousy!” he added.

Clara had an inkling of what her boyfriend’s life was like but not much beyond a few short stories and traumatizing incidents he never liked to discuss. But to be cut off completely well that was news to her. And it wasn’t fair.

“Sweetie, listen,” she told him, wrapping her arms around his strong neck. “It’s not your fault.”

“But it is. If I had just…” his voice cut off now unable to say anything more beyond potential crying and Clara could see tears welling up in his eyes. “I-If I can’t have my family, you should at least appreciate how amazing yours is.”

“Shhh,” she said, rocking him in a tone she used whenever he became upset. Being a member of the frog choir and an excellent singer, it helped calm her boyfriend. And now was the perfect time.

Silent night, holy night

All is calm, all is bright

The muggle tune was one she knew growing up and read from one of her mother’s books at university. Given that it was Christmas time, the moment felt quite appropriate. Slowly, she grabbed his left hand and led him around the courtyard as if they were dancing, feet crunching in the snow in a soft ballad until they stopped below a string of mistletoe that hung in one of the archways.

Sleep in heavenly peace

Upon the ending of the song, she wiped the stream of tears from his cheeks.

“You always have a family in me,” Clara said, adjusting his scruffy, brown hair underneath his hat. “And you’re the greatest gift a girl could ask for.”

Slowly and with such tenderness that the loving couple melted into each other like a marshmallow into a cup of hot chocolate, they kissed.

“Merry Christmas, Barnaby Lee.”

The Slytherin grinned back, picking her up by her waist and swinging around and dipping her forward as if she were a princess. All tears were gone and regret washed away by the spirit of the season.

“Merry Christmas, Clara Lin.”

[ughgclden]

a third one??

i’ve got a pretty relaxed day today, so coming and going with responses is easier, downtime more conducive to spending 10/15 minutes writing you another letter, and i apologise in advance for the length of this one

in regards to my friend, she is really sweet, but we seem to have found ourselves in that dynamic when i never know if she’s being gay (platonic) or being Gay (romantic) and i’m already fairly emotionally stunted. house and i are alike on that front /hj

it was nice to be hugged like that, greeted like that, though, a reminder that it’s possible there are some people who do look for me in crowded rooms, even if it’s more likely than not that i’m not there. (incidentally, consider this and every other letter my way of hugging you)

i think if i had to teach mainly basics i would struggle, since i tend to go quickly and get excited, sometimes forgetting brains work differently than mine when it comes to retaining and learning information. i can see your point about the emotional support teacher though, i think there would be a… certain demographic that would be drawn to me, if you catch my drift /hj

i had an english teacher like that, she once gave me extra points on an essay for referencing dead poets society, and even though i don’t have her anymore, i still put her down as a reference, and email her from time to time anyway, she helped me a ton.

i think bookstore bee would be lovely, and it reminds me of aziraphale, which fits with you quite well. plus the best bookshops always have the pretty ladies behind the counters.

as for the other thing, i don’t want to minimise it by saying “it’s okay,” although that is my first impulse, mainly because objectively, it’s not, and because i know if someone said anything like that to someone i cared about i would. definitely get myself into trouble dealing with the bastard with the audacity to hurt my friends. that and i have the same anger for people like that, with the caveat that they can get away with directing it to me. truthfully, i’m used to it, which isn’t ideal, i admit. growing up, i went to a. forced integrated school, bringing in kids from other districts to raise test scores, and as most things turn out to be, the bussed in “smart” kids were mainly white, and the kids who originally lived in the neighbourhood were all hispanic. so naturally, as a hispanic kid from a different district in the gifted program, both sides hated me. i’ve got more than ample experience and that’s what makes it terrible. but i digress

the highs always comes with the lows, but in the words of ben platt, “when you’re high, i’ll take the lows, you can ebb and i can flow,” and i’ll be here to complement you in any way i can for as long as you’ll let me do so.

presenting is definitely scary, i recently had a debate kid ask me, “what’s the point of speaking if you’re not proving anyone wrong?” when i said i wasn’t in debate, but in speech, the sister program. the truth is, the point is telling your truth, even through other peoples’ words. sometimes we can’t find the words, but have no problem finding the memories that make pieces impactful, and true.

i bet in knitted jumpers with a skirt and docs you look lovely, and like someone remus lupin would be good friends with. i gravitate somewhere between remus and sirius, the two gay sides of me constantly battling that one out, so i end up with some… interesting outfits. cruella de ville is a goal, quite honestly, although i suppose technically shes classified as a villain, but then again, i’m a mentally unwell unstraight individual, so villains hot.

bee, if there’s anything i strive to do, it’s make you feel important, because you are, at the very very least, to me. and thats not silly, because believe me the sentiment is shared, thank you for spending time on me, love. i cant say it enough.

you are important, to reiterate, you are good, and kind, and the world could use more people like you. i only hope those lucky enough to experience your physical presence are sensible enough to know what a privilege they have in knowing you.

all of my love, bee, and a million wishes for a good day, good night, sweet dreams, and restful sleep.

until we meet again,

(likely tomorrow)

yours,

✨

please never apologise for the length of these, star. i'd read a whole novel of anything you say

it should me apologising for how terribly late my response is - i'm never much good at writing when i'm tired, or doing anything when i'm tired really. i'm one of those people who completely shuts down, and i wasn't going to torture you with my drowsy ramblings. im however writing this now with a fresh cup of coffee, so let's hope that helps

not knowing the distinction between gay and Gay is the worst; i can sympathise slightly on that front. when i was still figuring shit out i never knew if i just really loved my friend or really Loved my friend - it was all platonic, i know that now, but it was certainly a time. i think i'd always find myself searching for you in a crowded room - you have the sort of energy that draws people to you

you'd certainly draw in that certain demographic, i know it. although i think being the lgbt kids support teacher would be the largest honour bestowed onto a person, and no one else would suit that more perfectly than you. that's so sweet oh my god - i'm not too sure if my teacher had ever watched it, as sadly she never referenced it :( but she was very much a keating for me

i'm glad you know it's certainly not okay and i'm so fucking sorry that there's some ignorant assholes out there who think their stupid close-minded ideas and thoughts are important and need to be voiced, and they're justified in saying that shit. i truly hope things aren't as bad as they once were and if i could, i'd hurt anyone who's ever said that stuff to you (i can't fight, but i'd give it my best shot)

i totally agree with you- not everything has to be to prove a point, or make someone see something the way you do. sometimes it's just to communicate, to tell tales of love and beauty, to tell your own stories and thoughts. sometimes it's nice to talk just for the sake of it.

i think a mix of remus and sirius is wonderful - i aspire to have the sort of energy that sirius black gives off but alas, i'm more of a remus (or even a peter.. but we don't talk about that..) and yes villains are SO HOT OH MY GOD!!! yes they are bad ppl but they are hot and sexy so they can do as they please <3

we could go back and forth about this all day - but thank you lovely. not only do these make me feel important and loved, but they also let me talk about the smaller things, the little things that sometimes seem irrelevant because the world spins a little too fast to focus on the mundane. but even with you, the mundane is something spectacular.

have a lovely day, i hope it's filled with little bits of magic and wonder and joy. all my love star <33

[celestialnocturnes]

a day in a woman’s life

trigger warning: sexual abuse

as if the vexing sound of the alarm clock separating you from the sweet peace of sleep wasn’t enough, you find yourself waking up to a disgusting pool of red stain on your bed. ah, the monthly visitor has come, you whisper disappointedly. the day’s off already off to a bad start and you can’t even get up because of your excruciating cramps.

you must have been used to battling with the monthly enemy that after a few seconds of struggle, you found yourself walking towards the bathroom now ready to start the day. as you undress yourself and stare at your reflection, your imperfections begin to make fun of you. those stretch marks, those hairy armpits, those belly fats, and oh god that obnoxious figure. times are different now. magazines tell you to embrace your flaws and love your body. say, was it supposed to be revolutionary? what if i don’t love my body, you ask? does that make me any less of a person, of a woman? the reflection doesn’t answer back. then again, they’re all just a bunch of hypocrites.

the bath seemed to freshen up your perspective, until you see that there’s only two pieces of sanitary napkin left on your drawer. make a mental note to stop by the convenience store to buy a pack, you said. it’s not much of an expense, but taking into consideration all the money you’ve spent for buying those sanitary napkins the moment you first bled until your menopause, that sums up to a lot. the government should follow scotland’s initiative of giving free period products to women, but hey what about the pink tax that contributes to their illicit profits? you scoff at the thought as you put on your underwear.

maybe i should switch to tampon? the thought enters your mind and maybe it is time to consider that. it’s funny, though. corporations would lecture us for minimizing our carbon footprints when they are bigger culprits than we are. oh well, that’s a complaint for another time.

the weather was scorching hot, so you opted for a light wear. the combination is as follows: shorts dark enough to mask possible leakages, a cropped top that boosted your confidence when you tried it on the cramped fitting room, and white sneakers that unfailingly match any outfit. if you were staying at home right now, your parents would definitely ridicule you for wearing that “slutty” outfit. good thing you’re staying on a dormitory, otherwise you’d hear your mom’s endless lectures on how the outside is brimming with lustful and dangerous men.

she wasn’t wrong, though.

as you were on your way to the jeepney terminal, men along the streets feasted on the sight of your legs. to shorten the agony, you quickened your pace and eventually turned it into a sprint. it was an exercise grounded on the wrong motivation, but at least you caught the jeep before it got full.

that ride wasn’t a safe haven, you realize.

it was the same thing again. oh what you would do to avoid their frightening gaze. i should’ve brought a shawl, or a jacket you said to yourself. but come on, it’s not sensible to bring those items on a weather like this. what do you expect, though? being a woman comes a seemingly infinite number of precautionary measures.

at last, you arrived on time for your class. your friend would gossip about her new crush and both of you would look at his pictures. he’s kind of cute. oh, when would you have a crush, you thought. good thing the prof arrived before you dwell on that pointless musing. it would be nice to see a charming face, though.

the day was going well so far, ignoring the occasional strikes of pain from your cramps. when classes are finally over, you join your friends who seem to be engrossed in a secret conversation. you ask them what was going on and the news terrified you. you’ve heard this sort of thing before, but it’s different when it occurs to someone you truly care about.

apparently, one of your friends has been harassed. she was keeping it for months and finally decided to speak up about it. he physically assaulted her and took advantage of her drunkenness. what’s even worse was that it was done by someone within the campus. the place that was supposed to hone safety for its stakeholders no longer felt like a safe zone. honestly, when will it ever get better?

you’re all curious about the sanction, but realistically speaking, will justice even be served? sooner or later, everyone will forget about this. he might be suspended, sure, but when he comes back, there’s no guarantee that things will magically turn alright. some would probably even dismiss what he’d done for flirting. girls are so overreacting they would say. it’s scary to think that things and comments like that are normal when they are so, so far from that.

heard about what happened. is there anything i can do? you text your friend. she replies that she’s okay and that she needs some time alone. understandable. you would do the same thing too if you were on her shoes.

to take your mind off that heart-crushing news, you decide to watch an episode of a popular sitcom, only to find a main character being “funny” for his countless sexist jokes and borderline creepy attempts to sleep with women. what a shallow take on personality.

you’re done for the day, what with your classes, your social interactions, that news, and your period being fully functional energy drainers. you take a quick dinner and go back to your dorm. once again, you ran as fast as you could the moment you got off the jeep. your mom would be happy to know that you got back to your dormitory on time, because it’s at nighttime when men outside get even worse. what a nightmare being the one to adjust for their indecency as persons.

just when you’re ready to change into comfortable clothes and study your lessons for tomorrow’s classes, you realize two things. you need to wash your stained underwear and bed sheet. plus, you forgot stopping by the convenience store. oh dear, so much for being a woman! 

-------

happy women’s history month to my fellow women out there! i can’t fathom the strength we hold, but it’s incredible to hold such power isn’t it? too bad we had to endure so many unnecessary things because of this society. i’ve wanted to write an entry on being a woman and inject some of my thoughts on it so i hope this does justice even though it seems like a full rant on having period. anw, let’s smash the patriarchy, one day at a time!

[idk-mlb-is-reals-cute44]

MLB Secret Santa Gift part 3!

For @clockworkgalaxies

~••~

The room was glowing with magic—but not in the cheerful, multicolored way that Luka’s lab did.

Bright pillars of purple light filled the room, and in them—people.

Staring. Emotionless. Unmoving.

Wearing the same purple clothes the attacks had been, at the engagement announcement.

And, there at the forefront of the room, was Mylene, uniform and stripped of all her Mylene-ness.

Except for one thing—a guitar pick, that Marinette knew Ivan had given her for their anniversary that year, was clutched in Mylene’s hand.

A noise broke Marinette from her horrified stupor—and not a noise that came from Luka or herself.

Someone was walking in the room, blocked from view from the countless pillars.

Someone was there.

Then Marinette let loose a terrified squeak.

“WHO’S THERE?” Someone bellowed, and then Marinette and Luka we’re running, running, running.

They paused only briefly, at the well, to say, “Did you see that?” as if making sure it hadn’t been some horrible hallucination, and then, “Yeah. I saw it.” and then they were running again.

They ran all the way to Luka’s lab, and slammed the door behind them.

They planted heavily as Nathaniel and Rose stared at them with shocked faces.

“What happened?” Nathaniel asked.

“Prisoner got loose,” Marinette lied, “The guards are dealing with it now.”

Luka, thankfully, went along with her story.

But as they were leaving, Luka leaned in an whisperd, “Meet me in the East Gardens after dinner.” Just for her.

Marinette nodded.

She walked back to the kitchen, on edge. Ivan was still in a fuss—even more so, since no one could find Mylene (they thought). Marinette couldn’t bring herself to comfort him.

She had to talk to Alya.

She was almost certain she recognized the voice of the man who’d been in that purple room.

~••~

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” Alya said, “There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“W-What?” Marinette asked, shocked.

“I have to go,” Alya said, “Right now. The king is requiring that I shadow the prince—everywhere.”

“B-But this—”

“I know,” Alya said, looking torn, “But what you’re asking me to believe... that the king is... is... well. My job is to protect the prince. Today’s attack made it very clear that he’s in great danger.”

“Do you not trust me?” Marinette asked, feeling betrayed.

“No, no!” Alya said, and then bit her lip, conflicted, “It’s just... why would the king attack his own son?”

Marinette was stumped—but only for a second.

“Adrien said that they weren’t after him,” Marinette said, “They were after something else... And the king hired you! Why did he hire you to do this, if not to protect the prince from his own schemes?”

“The king hired me years ago as a maid-undercover for precautionary reasons,” Alya explained, “And promoted me to princess-undercover only because the prince faced an attempt on his life two weeks ago.”

“W-what?” Marinette asked.

“An assassin,” Alya said, “Tried to strangle him in the village.”

“Okay,” Marinette said, “But you have to admit what I saw was important!”

“Why would the king being forming a secret army when he already has one of his own?” Alya asked.

Marinette faltered. It sounded silly when put like that... but she knew what she’d seen.

What she was suggesting was treason—on her part. And if she was right, well, the consequences for the king would be—would be what? Dethroning? Execution? And who would have the authority to carry out this punishment?

But Marinette couldn’t let it go—not when her friends, when innocent people, were being taken advantage of.

“Just because it doesn’t make sense doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous! We need to investigate!”

Alya sighed.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Alya said, “I believe you. I do. I’m just stressed, I didn’t mean to lash out like that. My job is to protect the prince. I can’t let anything distract me from that. But...”

“But?”

Alya pulled a knife from her bodice—intricately carved and completely unlike any other weapon Marinette had seen before.

“I have to do my job...” Alya said, grinning a little, “But you don’t have anything keeping you from investigating.”

“Wait, Alya, wha—”

“Take this,” Alya persisted, handing Marinette the knife, “Go into town and find the Miraculous Pub. Show this to the bartender and tell them you’re looking for Master Fu—and tell them I sent you. Master Fu can help you.”

“Alya, I can’t!” Marinette protested, “I’m just a maid! I’m not like you.”

“Marinette,” Alya said, and the sincerity in her voice was unfaltering, “I believe in you.”

“...Okay,” Marinette said. Then smiled in determination.

“Who’s Master Fu?”

Alya beamed.

“The man who trained me.”

~••~

Master Fu was... well. Master Fu was not as badass-looking as Marinette had been expecting.

He was tiny—shorter than her! He looked old enough to be someone’s grandpa. And he had a weird thing about turtle-themed interior design.

They were sitting in the back room of the pub, across a table from each other. Marinette had just laid out the whole thing for him—the attack, what she’d found in the dungeons—but instead of replying, he was sipping his tea and staring at her.

Marinette’s own cop say on the table, untouched.

Finally, the man said something.

“You said you heard voices leading you to the room?”

Marinette nodded.

Master Fu room another long sip of his tea.

Marinette felt like tearing her hair out.

Master Fu reached under the table and slowly, carefully placed a box on top of it.

“This,” he said, “Is a miraculous.”

“A what?” Marinette asked.

Fu said nothing, just gestures at the box, like, “go ahead.”

Marinette opened the box. Earrings.

“Wha-”

“Shhhh,” Fu said, “Just put them on.”

Marinette did, hesitantly.

As soon as she fastened them in place with the earring backings, she knew.

“Oh,” she said, eyes wide as she was suddenly filled with the knowledge of what the two small accessories could do.

“That,” Fu said, “Is your destiny.”

“How do you know?” Marinette asked.

“You heard the voices of the butterfly miraculous,” Fu said, “Which I suspect King Gabriel is using to... imprison all those people.”

“My god,” Marinette said.

Master Fu only safely nodded.

“Does Alya have one of these?”

Fu shook his head.

“It is not her destiny,” he said mysteriously, “...yet.”

King of vague, Marinette thought, But okay.

“Hello,” someone said, and Marinette almost started screaming.

A small fairy stood on the table.

“This is Tikki,” Fu said, “She will guide you on your quest.”

“Hello, Tikki.” Marinette smiled, even though she was still a little freaked out.

Marinette could feel it: this was the start of something great.

~••~

The gardens at night were ominous.

Correction: the gardens at night had been ominous, until Marinette found Luka in them.

She tried to ignore this shift, chanting Adrien, Adrien, Adrien in her head, but to no avail.

Unfortunately, something about Luka put her at ease. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to smile.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he joked, a steady grin on his face—although it seemed to grow when he spotted her.

“What a surprise,” Marinette joked back, “To find you here at this hour.”

“Indeed.” And his face then grew grim. “What was that?”

Marinette figited.

“I did a little... digging,” she admitted, “And I found out. But you need to promise me you won’t repeat anything I say to anyone else.”

Marinette felt Tikki pinch her in the side from where she was hiding in Marinette’s coat. But Marinette couldn’t do this alone—she needed an ally, preferable one with a knowledge of magic. Luka matched that perfectly (and it didn’t hurt that she trusted him, for wherever reason, despite having not even known him for more than a day).

“I promise,” Luka said, and the way his eyes glinted in the moonlight made her believe he would keep his word.

“Well...” Marinette looked left, and then right, to see if there was anyone else in the gardens. There was not, but even so she stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear everything she had learned that evening.

Master Fu had been clear: no one could know about the powers she now held. (Of course, Marinette had slightly amended it to “no one could know besides Luka,” for which she was certain she would get a talking-to from Tikki about later.) So it was with utmost secrecy that she detailed the recent revelations.

“Wow,” was all Luka could say in response.

“Can I rely on you?” Marinette asked, “To help me?”

She hoped she wasn’t being too bold.

“Of course,” Luka said. And then smiled.

Marinette smiled back.

~••~

Marinette had snuck out at midnight. The moon was full (although she could not see it from within the servant’s staircase) and the castle was sleeping.

Tikki had somehow merged with the earrings, granting her a spotted mask and vigilante outfit.

A fitted jacket was tucked into a vibrant red skirt (with slits to allow a further range of motion). She also had a black pair of sensible heals.

Exhilaration coarsed through her as she soundlessly opened the door to the dungeon, and crept to the hallway, hidden in the shadows.

She picked up the pace as soon as she was out of view of the guards, scurrying to find the purple room again.

The mission that night was not one of action, although Tikki had informed her of her sparkly luck powers and enhanced capabilities, perfect for battle.

That night, Marinette was counting—which sounded boring, yes, but Marinette had always been better at strategy than fighting. She figured she’d stick to her strong suits until she was forced not to.

The room was empty that night—no guards or kings or henchmen. Marinette thanked her lucky stars for that.

She set about to counting, keeping track of how many had been possessed as well as the unique object each had.

She faltered.

In the ranks of the purple soldiers were soldiers of the regular kind—soldiers that had served the king in protecting everyone from the purple attackers.

What were they doing here?

“Why would they call them back unless they got what they were after?”

The princes words echoed in her mind.

Had gaining the soldiers been the purpose of the attack?

She supposed it made sense—a battle was sure to cause emotions to run rampant.

But Alya was right. Why would the king be gathering an army when... he already had one? It made even less sense seeing the soldiers there.

Maybe... it wasn’t the king. Marinette had been basing this accusation on the sound of the voice of the man who’d called after her and Luka as they’d run.

She could’ve been wrong.

Maybe it wasn’t the king but just... some other man who sounded just like him.

In light of everything... that did make the most sense.

Marinette took a moment to silently swear to Mylene, I’m getting you out of here.

Then she raced back the way she’d come, to Alya’s room, feeling so much more confused than she had before.

One thing was for sure, though.

There were far too many of them to face on her own.

~••~

The next day came bright and cheerful. Not a cloud in the sky.

Marinette was exhausted.

In a terrible mood.

She wondered if she could fight the sun. (Perhaps Icarus has just been too much of a coward. Surely she could get at least one punch in?)

Staying up past one sneaking around the palace, and then until 2 worrying about what she’d seen sneaking around the palace, was not the best decision Marinette had made. Especially since that morning Alya was to dine privately with the royal family—and Marinette had been invited.

Great. Just great, Marinette thought as she wrestled with what seemed to be a million skirts and hopes and ribbons.

Dressing herself had been infinitely easier when she only had a maids uniform to worry about.

Alya, of course, had been up for hours (somehow) and was sitting at the vanity, doing her hair.

“How do I look?” Alya asked, laughing as Marinette lost in her duel against her own dress, falling to the floor with a loud oof.

“Beautiful, as always,” Marinette said, giving up and laughing too.

“Get up from the floor, let me help,” Alya said.

Marinette struggled to her feet (apparently her magical agility didn’t transfer over out of costume) and let Alya the her sash in a perfect bow.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Marinette sighed gratefully.

“I know,” Alya said, grinning.

“You’re awfully happy today,” Marinette teased, “Anything to do with that Nino fellow you were flirting with?”

Alya’s silence said everything.

“You didn’t!” Marinette laughed.

Alya winked.

“He’s not half bad at kissing,” she confided.

“Scoundrel,” Marinette said, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry I haven’t been around,” Alya said, “Last night Nino, Adrien, and I had to suffer through King Gabriel’s new safety protocol speech for the better part of the night.”

“It’s alright,” Marinette said, combing her fingers through her hair to try to get it to behave, “I met with Master Fu.”

“I forgot to ask! How’d it go?”

“It went....” Marinette hesitated, “Well. It’s a long story. And we have somewhere to be. I’ll tell you after.”

Marinette felt Tikki pat her ankle aprovingly. They were dining inside, so no coats. Tikki was instead taking refuge in her skirts. (Marinette has seen her a little pocket on the inside of them hem.)

“Alright!” Alya clapped, “Lets get to it! Off to breakfast!”

Marinette was forced into yet another pair of heels, and to her disappointment found they were not sensible at all. (Or perhaps her Ladybug powers also gave her the magical ability to manage in heels—which may be the most impressive thing the miraculous could do by far.)

Marinette found, upon entering the room, that she really ought to have protested more instead of being caught up in Alya’s good mood. She was to be seated directly across from Adrien (while Alya would be opposite to the king).

She didn’t know if she could manage to be in such close proximity to the prince for a whole meal without blurting our something embarrassing. She’d been half a table away and embarrassed herself, even, except this time the stakes were higher because he was in earshot.

“You’ll be fine,” Alya whispered, and then plastered on a bright smile and curtsied elegantly. “Your Highnesses.”

Marinette copied her, except for with much less elegance.

“Hello, Alya. Marinette,” Prince Adrien said, and the way he lingered on her name a bit longer (perhaps because there were more syllabus) made Marinette feel all sowing inside.

King Gabriel merely nodded.

He’s... stoic, Marinette thought, To put it nicely.

She (fortunately) did not say this aloud. (But she, unbeknownst to herself, made such a face while thinking so that Adrien had to stifle his laughter.)

They all sat at the table, and the silence was deafening.

“Weathers nice,” Marinette observed, and immediately wished she had not spoken because it meant everyone at the table was looking at her.

“It is,” Alya said, trying to save her, “Adrien, you play football, right? Isn’t this just perfect weather for sports?”

And suddenly all the focus was off her.

Thank the gods, Marinette thought, For best friends.

She squeezed Alya’s hand under the table thankfully. Alya subtly winked back at her.

“It is,” Adrien agreed, “Nino and I were going to play a game later.”

“Perhaps Marinette And I should stay inside then,” Alya laughed, “Wouldn’t want anyone to be knocked over, would we?”

Marinette and Adrien turned a little red and laughed awkwardly.

“Adrien,” the king said, and suddenly no other sound could be heard but his cold voice (no laughter, no birdsong, no nothing), “What’s this about you knocking people over?”

“N-nothing Father,” Adrien said, and made himself very small in a way that made Marinette’s heart ache.

“Perhaps you should focus on your studies instead of... running around,” King Gabriel said, “After all, no great King was known for football.”

No one said anything.

Alya cleared her throat and said, “Whats for breakfast?”

And it was like all the oxygen that had been sucked out of the room slowly returned as King Gabriel explained the two courses of fruit and then salmon.

Marinette offered Adrien a reassuring small, which he returned.

Having breakfast with the king was suffocating. Imagine living with him. Marinette felt like Adrien could probably use a good, long hug.

While Alya distracted the king with conversation about fish (Thank the GODS for best friends) Marinette attempt to strike up a dialogue with the prince.

“Y-yesterday was crazy, r-right?” she said quietly to him, so soft it wouldn’t catch the king’s attention.

“I know,” Adrien said, “It was hectic.”

“I’m glad you’re a-alright,” Marinette said, a little shy, but it was worth it when Adrien’s smile returned full force.

“I’m glad you’re alright too, Marinette,” he said.

“Alya told me there was new security protocol?” Marinette said when she couldn’t come up with anything else.

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed, “It’s pretty much twenty four hour surveillance.”

“Oh,” Marinette winced, “That sounds awful. At least you’re safe?”

“Yeah...”

Then it was awkwardly quiet for a second.

“How’s being a lady in waiting treating you?” Adrien asked.

“Fine,” Marinette said, “I love fashion, so that’s nice. I’m terrible at hair, though.”

Adrien studies her for a moment with a smile, and then said, “I don’t know. You’re hair looks pretty beautiful to me.”

Marinette turned bright red. Brighter red than the strawberries in the fruit salad that was brought out at that moment, saving her from having to answer.

“This is delicious,” Alya said, “What even is this? Mutant cantaloupe?”

“We have it flown in from the south,” King Gabriel said stiffly.

Alya took theee bites at once.

“Mmmmmmm!”

Marinette didn’t feel sure-of-herself enough around the present company (read: King Gabriel) to be so openly delighted, but Alya was right: the food was outrageously good.

She took the opportunity to stuff her face so she didn’t have to ponder if Adrien had been flirting with her.

(Had he though? Had he? Had he?)

The fish was delicious as well, but Marinette hardly noticed because she was preoccupied sneaking looks at the prince.

He caught her looking, and her head shot down to stare at the fish, face burning.

(He smiled.)

By the time breakfast was over and Alya and Marinette excused themselves, Marinette was so full she thought she would burst, and her face was so red she thought she might melt.

“I saw the looks you were giving the princeeeeee!” Alya said in a singsong voice, “And I just want you to know he was giving them backkkkkk!”

“Shut up!” Marinette laughed, covering her tomato-red face, “I mean maybe he was. But we have more important things to discuss! So, Master Fu...”

~••~

Marinette was pacing. Waiting for it to get dark.

She wanted as few people as possible to see her—use the element of surprise to her advantage.

Still, she threatened to burst from inpatients.

She was going to try to break Mylene out. She didn’t know how she would do it, but she was confident she would figure it out.

Probably.

“You don’t have to wait out here, you know,” Tikki said, smiling, “Alya already knows everything. You can just step back into the room and... pace there.”

Although there was humor in her voice, Marinette couldn’t help feel guilty.

“I’m sorry I told her,” Marinette said, “And Luka. They’re the only people I’ll tell.”

“It’s okay,” Tikki sighed, “I’ve seen too many bugs worked into the ground because they didn’t have anyone to help them out of the hole they were digging. It’s alright—as long as you promise you wonr spill to anyone else.”

“I promise!” Marinette laughed, and felt a weight lift off her chest she hadn’t known was there. “Wait... bugs?”

“Oh, not real bugs!” Tikki assured, “That’s just what I call my miraculous wielders. After all, I am the fairy of the Ladybug miraculous.”

“Explains the polka dot theme,” Marinette said, thinking of her costume.

Tikki giggled.

Alya opened to door.

“I can hear your restlessness from all the way over here,” she said, “It’s dark enough. Go! Save the world.”

Marinette looked out the window. Sure enough, the sun had just set.

“Okay,” she said, “Spots on!”

Alya applauded when the glitzy transformation glitter settled, revealing Marinette, newly dressed in her vigilante outfit.

“Very fashionable,” she said, “Now, go git ‘em, girl!”

Marinette found the door to the servants staircase, and took the stairs two at a time—and bumped into someone.

“Who’s there?” They both asked.

Marinette felt the blood rush to her face—it was Prince Adrien!

“Sorry Your Highness!” she yelped, and then jumped over his head (she didn’t know she could do that) and practically flew down the stairs before he could get a good look at her.

Now.

The mission.

(She could wonder what the prince was doing in the servants staircase later.)

She snuck towards the room, and—

“M’lady.”

Marinette jumped three feet in the air and turned around.

A tall, blonde stranger, wearing a tail coat, cape, and top hat (a bit excessive, in Marinette’s opinion), was standing there.

“Who are you?” Marinette hissed.

“A certain master told me you were my partner,” the man winked, “I’m Chat Noir!”

Part 4 to come!

[mythlived]

When Josie was little and Patroclus had just arrived, she hid from him. Always. When her parents had told her they were taking him in, she was excited for the weeks leading up to his arrival and—as five-year-olds do—began to pick out things she owned that she thought he might like or pointed out things in stores that she wanted thought suited him. She drew him a “Welcome” card at school  (  which Pat still has, tucked safely in a picture frame so it won’t get damaged and where everyone can see the words “Welcome Patrus, Love Jo” scribbled in green crayon on purple construction paper  ),  she picked out a new outfit for herself for the “Welcome Party” she planned, and even went so far as to get Ares a puppy-party-hat. But when the day came and Pat showed up, she heard the door open, heard her parents talking to him while she sat beside her grandma, and then bolted. All she knew was that he sounded older than her and therefore scarier. She couldn’t handle it. She’d been bamboozled. She thought she was getting a little brother  (  their parents had told her otherwise more than once  )  and didn’t like that she’d been betrayed. She did not like this. . . this Patrus. So she hid in her room and refused to come out, no matter who asked. 

The first time she ever actually saw Patroclus was two days later, when she was hiding in the kitchen pantry and he opened it to get something for her mom, only to find her staring up at him, completely and utterly caught. She remembers he just grabbed what he was looking for after pausing for a moment and then shut the pantry door back like it had never happened. Like she wasn’t even there. She had been both pleased and also insulted. He had barely even acknowledged her. She was here first. Patrus needed to go. She told her dad as much when he was putting her to bed, but he’d simply frowned at her and told her she wasn’t being very nice like she’d promised—a low blow to one so small—but then asked why she didn’t like him. . . to which her response was that he was old and mean. When prompted to explain how he was mean, Josie told him: He ignored her  !  The audacity. But then her dad pointed out she’d been ignoring him this entire time, so he was probably just being polite and trying not to bother her. Clearly, Patrus had Mom and Dad wrapped around his finger already. It was time for war. 

So the following morning she arrived at breakfast and immediately told her mother that Patrus had spit in her cereal. To which her mother had sighed and pointed out that Patroclus  (  who was Patroclus  ?  )  wasn’t even awake yet. Josie told her that didn’t matter, because Patrus did it, not this Patro. . . Partoc. . . Pat-man. She didn’t understand why her mom just laughed. The traitor. So she tried again the following day: Patrus kicked me today. This time when they were all seated at dinner for the first time because all grandparents were over. She achieved some satisfaction from the way Grandma, Nan, and Pa reacted, looking at the boy with wide eyes and a little gasp from Nan. She also achieved some satisfaction from the horror written across Patrus’ face. He deserved that. But then she got in trouble for lying because Patrus had been grocery shopping with Dad that day while she and Mom had gone to the mall. . . which was a small kink in her plan. She had taken a nap since their mall trip and forgotten. 

What she didn’t expect was for the tables to turn on Week Three; for Patrus to launch his counterattack. It was when she heard a door close that she jumped off of her seat to go hide herself in the linens closet in the hallway.  (  It was her hiding spot for laundry days because it smelled nice with all the clean towels and sheets.  )  But when she opened the door, she froze because there he sat. Patrus was in her hiding spot. He knew. And yet, he looked startled, like he hadn’t expected her.  ❝  Can I help you  ?  ❞ And he said it like he shouldn’t be somewhere else. Anywhere else. She couldn’t figure out why he was there. Why he was sitting in her linen closet. On laundry day. So she asked,  ❝  What are you doing  ?  ❞

She felt strange when he looked at her like he didn’t understand what she’d just said. But it was his reply. . . his reply changed everything,  ❝  I’m hiding from you.  ❞  Horror, shock, disbelief, and betrayal all hit at once. She had won so many battles, but with just four words. . . just four words. . . she’d lost the war. So she did the only sensible thing and placed her hand on her forehead, swayed with the non-existent wind, and pretended to pass out in the floor. Perhaps her parents would find her and think Patrus had pushed her down and promptly get rid of him. 

She was tempted to peek her eyes open when she heard him shift some of the linens. But she didn’t have to because he spoke only a moment later,  ❝  Josie  ?  Are you okay  ?  ❞  He had no right to ask her such a thing when he was the one that had done this. How rude. A dragon wasn’t supposed to care about the knight they had vanquished. What was his problem  ?  Coming in here and trying to replace her only to ask if she was okay. Of course she wasn’t okay  !  Who knew he was stupid, too  ?  

❝  No. I’m dead.  ❞  She sighed dramatically and peeked one eye open to see that he’d left her linen closet and was sitting on the ground next to her, cross-legged and. . . was he smiling  ?!  She hated him  !  He was glad she was dead  !  What a monster  !  She promptly closed her eyes again; she couldn’t bear to see her replacement take such joy in her fall. She was ruined. It was over. . . 

Would her mom and dad get rid of her since they seemed to like Patrus better  ?  Maybe they would give her to Nan and Pa, since Nan believed that Patrus had kicked Josie. Surely that meant Nan liked her better  ?  

❝  Why are you crying  ?  ❞   Patrus’ voice was quiet, soft like she’d never heard it, like he was trying not to wake the dead. But too bad for him—she had awoken  !  . . . But only because she couldn’t stop sniffling and had to sit up. Unfortunately, this brought her face-to-face with him because he had his face leaned against his hand and his elbows on his knees. She swatted at him even though he wasn’t very close to her and he sat up, hopefully surprised. 

❝  Because I hate you.  ❞  And she sobbed, because she didn’t feel any better after saying it. In fact, watching the way his face scrunched up and how he frowned, she just felt worse. Maybe if she explained more she’d feel better and he’d stop making that face at her. . .  ❝  You’re scary and Mom and Dad like you better now.  ❞  

His face went from scrunched up to that startled look he’d given her earlier, like he hadn’t been expecting what she was going to say. Good. She liked this expression better anyway. It didn’t make her feel as bad.  ❝  They don’t like me better.  ❞   

❝  They do  !  ❞

❝  They don’t.  ❞

❝  They do  !  ❞

❝  They don’t. You know how I know  ?  ❞  He said it, all smug and with such finality that she paused in her crying, hiccuping as she stared up at him. She wouldn’t believe a word he said. She wouldn’t. In fact, she didn’t want to know how he knew. 

❝  . . . How  ?  ❞  She had betrayed herself  !  No  !  Was there no one she could trust  ?!  

❝  Because they talk about you a lot.  ❞  Simple. He said it like that was all the explanation it needed, like that had anything to do with it at all. But still. . . the way he said it and how he smiled at her. . . he couldn’t be lying. It had to be the truth. Was Patrus. . . actually not a dragon  ?  Perhaps he was a misunderstood ogre. No. She’d given in to the enemy too easily. . .

❝  They do  ?  ❞  

❝  Mhm. Your dad was telling me the other day that you’re very good at spelling and when I told him I could tell from the card you made me—  ❞  Josie gasped because she’d forgotten about the card—she’d shown weakness from the very beginning. . .  ❝  —he told me how proud he was of you.  ❞  

Josie froze, staring up at Patrus. So her parents didn’t like him better after all. . . they hadn’t told him how proud they were of him. Had she worried all this time for nothing  ?  She sniffled and watched as the older boy reached up to grab a washcloth from the linen closet before reaching out to her very slowly. He wiped the tears from her face and then very gently prompted her to blow her nose before rolling the washcloth up to avoid getting her nose-germs all over his hands. 

Something occurred to her, then. Did Patrus have anyone to tell him how proud of him they were  ?  Maybe that was why he was here in the first place. . . her parents had never actually told her why he was there.  ❝  Patrus  ?  ❞  

❝  Hm  ?  ❞

❝  Why are you here  ?  Where’s your mom and dad  ?  ❞  And she almost started to cry again when she watched the way his face fell and he flinched. She didn’t know why that reaction upset her so much, but she didn’t think that was a good question to ask. Maybe she should apologize or— 

❝  Well. . . they’re. . . I don’t have a mom or a dad  ?  ❞  He sounded unsure, but she was afraid to ask anymore questions. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings anymore. . . She’d done enough of that in the last few weeks, she thought. After all, he seemed like someone whose feelings were easily hurt. A kindred spirit, of sorts. 

Slowly, she stood up and wiped non-existent dirt off her pants before stepping toward Patrus and grabbing his face, pushing on his cheeks until he looked vaguely like a fish.  (  And he just let her do it  !  )   ❝  You can share mine. But you have to share. It’s bad not to share Mom and Dad, so you have to.  ❞

Patrus looked at her and then just nodded, but he also huffed out a laugh. She didn’t know why. This was serious business  !  What a funny guy. Or weird. And stupid. Oh boy, she had a lot of work to do. 

❝  Come on. Let’s go play. I’ll introduce you to my friends next door and the neighborhood cats and dogs.  ❞  She let go of his face only to grab his hand and tug him after her. 

❝  Wait, Josie, I have homework. . .  ❞  He sounded far too worried about work his school had sent home. Ridiculous. The neighborhood residents were much more important.

❝  No you don’t.  ❞

[kai-eastaughffe]

truth or dare; kai eastaughffe

The night already peaked by the time Kai’s turn was up. He had come down off the high off the lip sync battle---gracefully conceeded to Samuel, on the basis that one man sacrificing his dignity to Avril Lavigne should logically outweigh what essentially became a group dance-off with Lady Marmalade, and the excellence of that was in no way Kai’s doing---and he was slumped on the floor half-wasted already by the time he was poked in the ribs and forced back to attention.

He wasn’t looking forward to whatever people had planned for him. There’d already been a few curve balls, and he was, frankly, really worried about Salem, and Cleo. But, he couldn’t very well refuse after making most of the squad do whatever had popped into his head.

from cleo raja —

truth: what’s one thing you would change about everyone here?

dare: consume everything in the minibar, alcohol aside, in five minutes.

He could not afford the contents of the minibar at this point, even not including the alcohol. Nor did he want to. 

“Simple. We’d all have colour-coded or elemental or animal super powers, à la Power Rangers, or Sailor Moon.” He shrugged.

“We have never been, nor can we ever be, a proper friend group, since we don’t have a transformation sequence.” He downed the rest of his drink. Tonight was the first night he was really letting himself consume as much alcohol as he wanted---it seemed fitting. Then he continued, before anyone else could take over.

“See, Salem would be something dark and edgy like a black motif with ice and a panther, Leigh would be like a sassy lion and the colour orange. Danny would be yellow and something that flies, an eagle? TJ would be green with like, an alligator or a snake, Cleo would be red and maybe a badass scorpion or spider or a biker thing going on. Jenny might also be red---I feel like you’d rock the pink outfit, though, and maybe have some secret like you can control time and are the most powerful of us and no one knows it. Skylar would be purple and wind powers, something pretty like a butterfly but like---deceptive, her wingbeats make hurricanes, I dunno. Sam’d be blue, cause it’s like “leader-y”, but he’d have like... sweet water powers or maybe a wolf thing going on... I dunno. Dakota would be white, and his power would be...” Here he blanked. “To perfectly slice a bagel, or he’d turn into an airplane? I don’t know what your deal is these days, I dunno who you are, dude. Jules would be gold and control the sun, probably. Kelley would be silver---not because she’s second best though, silver ‘cause she’d turn into like a thousand knives, or just a fuckin’ tank.”

“And I’d be the, uhhh... Turquoise Ranger. There’s never a Turquoise anything. But it’s cool, ‘cause I’d also have a sloth patronus or whatever, and you guys would still have to bring me along anyway.” He folded his hands and surveyed the circle seriously.

“The defense rests.” Lawyer-talk, bonus points. He mimed sinking a basketball, for good measure.

from dakota harrison —

truth: who do you dislike most out of all of us?

dare: arm wrestle me.

It only took one glance at Kota’s arms before Kai scoffed. “Yeah, right. That’s happening---real suspense in who’d win, you clearly just want to look good. I’ll take truth... Who I dislike most...” He thought about it for a heartbeat, squinting around at the assembled group. Sure, there were some there he could take or leave, but no one he truly, deeply disliked more than... “Myself, obviously. Not that you’re not all terrible in your own special ways.” 

There was a deafening silence, and he glanced around. “What? Too edgy? It’s called a truth for a reason---” Someone helpfully pointed out that answering yourself was against the rules, and he grew slightly more irritated with all of them. But only for a second. “Fuck you guys, let me be the emo one for once.” He sighed. “Whatever, let’s just... give the people what they want.” He rolled up his right sleeve, and leaned forward to plant his arm in the middle of the circle before flashing Dakota a wide smile and saying, “Bring it, Beardface. And I mean it---you throw this out of pity or something and I will destroy you some other way when you least expect it.”

from jenny jordan —

truth: what was the cause of your weirdest boner?

dare: put five ice cubes down your pants and leave them there.

“Saying no to the ice dick, thanks, darlin’.” It was a little hard to look at her longer than a second without remembering what she’d said about his eyes and... all that. He still hadn’t quite recovered from the stuff people had said on their turns. Skylar thinking he had a good personality was... misguided, but okay... Salem’s was intentionally weird (as he’d requested, so that one was probably on him.) But Jenny’s confession had taken him utterly by surprise and he still wasn’t sure whether she’d been entirely serious, or if she’d had some other reason for praising him. 

He cleared his throat. “Weirdest boner? Mr. Fuller’s math class, apropos of trigonometry. Isosceles triangles just do it for me, I guess. Or, it was the hell that is puberty, and a light breeze could have the same effect, so.” He was answering a lot of truths, it turned out. Whether that would grow uncomfortable in the near future, he wasn’t sure, but at least for once it was a game of embarrassment for everyone, not just him.

from julian campbell —

truth: who in the room has hurt your feelings the most, and how?

dare: do your best impression of three people in the room - really commit to it.

Well, he knew he wasn’t gonna touch that truth with a ten foot pole. He’s not certain who he’d answer, anyway. Most of the incidents kind of blurred together, and the ones that really stung weren’t things he was willing to admit under any kind of torture. Which left him eyeing the other individuals for targets.

Of course, the more sensible thing would be to separate the impressions. But once he’d settled on them, a scene was already forming in his mind---and they had a brief stint taking Drama in high school to thank for that, he figured. “Alright, but I need props...” With an effort, he pushed himself up, then travelled around the room collecting what would be most effective---a pair of oversized sunglasses, a phone, a scarf, a pair of big headphones from his own bag tossed in the corner, and... yeah, that’d work. 

He then proceeded to enact a familiar situation to all of them, Jenny and Salem being catty at each other---sunglasses perched artfully on a dismissive smirk when it was her lines, scarf draped around his neck lazily for pretentiousness rather than representing any particular habit of Salem’s, but it worked, and Cleo in the headphones, snapping peevishly at the others as she looked at her phone at intervals.

By the end of five minutes his brain was stretched to capacity, he’d nearly strangled himself twice in headphone cords and the scarf, and the sunglasses were haphazardly pushed into his hair. “...in conclusion, you’re petty assholes who need to handle your issues better, and I don’t know why I love you,” he finished, breathlessly, before collapsing backwards on the floor.

from salem st. ives —

truth: did you cheat to get through law school?

dare: spend the rest of the game blind folded and wear ear plugs under headphones turned full blast (so that any other dares can get done to him and he’ll have no idea who did it).

He wrinkled his nose at the dare. “I would have to be horribly masochistic to be into that, I hope you know that. And I’m only like... maybe lightly masochistic most days, so you’ll just have to be treated to my full presence for the rest of the game.” It was hard to sweep a mocking bow while seated, but he tried to give one to Salem with minimal spillage of his drink.

“And I...” He paused, and covered it by sipping at the medley of alcohol in his cup---was it his? Had he just picked it up? It tasted like sour patch kids, and he was fairly sure he’d had something in the brownish family. “Is this someone else’s drink?” he asked, keeping the suspicion that maybe he was being pranked---extra bonus prank on Kai night, you know---a private one. “Anyway, it’s delicious, so thanks.” The potential prankster could have their laugh, his drink was delightful. “As I was saying, I did not cheat in law school.” It was, he told himself, the absolute truth. He’d never even been in law school---so how could he cheat? His smirk lost some of its pep when he remembered why that wasn’t exactly the triumph it should be. Someone, somewhere, had actually been in law school and not cheated---but it sure as hell wasn’t him. His mouth tasted bitter, and the stolen drink didn’t help any.

from samuel flores —

truth: do you still resent how the squad treated you in high school?

dare: prank call one of your coworkers.

And there it was. The kicker. ‘Cause he didn’t have coworkers to call---unless you counted Jeremy and Yolanda from the sandwich shop. Who would not take kindly to being disturbed---high priced lawyers might shrug that shit off as a laugh. Minimum wage dishwashers, or his manager, would not. And, believe it or not, he actually liked his coworkers. They thought he was good at his job---and he was, obviously, but they treated him like he was. He wasn’t going to subject them to the... Recapturing Lost Youth Squad. Yolanda had three kids, for fuck’s sake.

He swallowed the remains of his cup and studied the bottom. “I wouldn’t say I resent it,” he said, surprisingly calm and serious for the moment. “That makes it seem like I’m out for vengeance on everyone or hate you all. I don’t, at all. I just want... I dunno.” His voice dropped to a mumble. “Respect, maybe? Or... something...” And now, because of his stupid choice to pretend to be something he wasn’t, some of them actually did respect him, but it wasn’t even him, not really. They respected a complete and total fabrication. He’d almost gotten what he wanted, but it felt hollow and fake.

from skylar murphy —

truth: when was the closest you came to truly getting upset with the squad’s jokes on your behalf?

dare: spread a rumor about someone in the squad that really grinds your gears (i.e. whoever pokes fun at you too much from your perspective).

“Uhhh...” He tried to think, this time, of something specific. After a minute, he nodded. “I do remember one time...” Which in hindsight, might’ve been a precursor to things to come, but he hadn’t been too wise about that sort of thing until he started actively looking for them at his therapist’s bidding. “After we saw the Arcade Fire concert in junior year, and everyone had bought merch. Remember, it was like, a status thing? Wearing the shirts the next day if you’d been to the show? Teenagers are trash.” 

“Anyway, they were actually pretty tame as jokes go, just about the shirt and how I had finally made a decent fashion choice, combined with like... the occasional jab about how now I looked like all the other indie pricks at school.” It really had been totally run-of-the-mill day, all things told---except he’d actually loved that shirt, and the concert had been a good memory. And it’d only lasted a day, because of their idiotic taunts, and his skin being surprisingly thin that week. “Went home and burned the thing in the fireplace. Of course, our fireplace wasn’t equipped for synthetics or whatever was on the logo, I dunno... Anyway the house filled up with smoke and I had to evacuate the munchkins to the lawn,” he said, referring to his siblings. “And got in complete shit for it. Never told any of you, but I think that’s the most pissed I ever got.”

from tj powell —

truth: do you like leigh or salem better?

dare: run out into the hall, knock on somebody’s door, and ask to use their bathroom.

He toyed with his lower lip, looking directly at the dimly-aware Salem as he tried to decide. It should be an easy answer, but his drink had been spiked after all---with indecision and philosophizing, apparently, because it occurred to him that for all his resentment of Leigh becoming joined at the hip with Salem instead, there was something that wasn’t quite... It wasn’t jealousy, really, because he also liked Salem. Genuinely. If he’d been in her shoes, he’d have opted to hang out with Salem, too. So he didn’t really blame her, and that’s what made it complicated. Leigh was his oldest friend, probably. They understood each other, and she’d never cut him out---when she could have. They became a trio instead. He eventually realized he’d been silently musing and staring at Salem for quite some time, and shrugged. “Fuck it.” He got shakily to his feet and went out into the hall, made a show of being choosy about which hotel door he was going to disturb before selecting one at random and knocking.

And then knocking at another when the first didn’t answer. Finally, the door was jerked open. A tall man with a handlebar moustache to rival most cowboy movies loomed over him from the doorway. “What do you want.” He snapped.

Kai blinked. “Uh, I---I lost my room key---can I use your bathroom?”

The man stared at him---then down the hall, where he no doubt saw the heads of several onlookers. “No.” 

The door slammed inches from Kai’s nose and blew his hair back with the force of it. He was happy to retreat with his indignity and the thought of ‘I’m twenty eight fucking years old, what am I doing’ echoing shamefully in his head, until he realized he had an ace up his sleeve---or on his hand, rather. He grinned down the hall at his friends, took the bandage off his right palm from the failed blood oath with Cleo, and knocked again.

The door opened. “Fuck off---”

“Please,” he implored, clutching his bloody hand. “I just need to wash off the blood, and then I’ll go...”

The man’s eyes widened. “Shit! Yeah, come on---I know first aid. How’d you manage that, son?” 

Kai followed, face serious. Ten minutes later he came back to the room, freshly bandaged and more or less triumphant. 

[emeraldspiral]

Part 4 of my Thor rewatch thoughts:

The Jotenheim incident:

Heimdall says “You’re not dressed warmly enough”, but setting aside the fact that Loki and Thor can change their outfits into whatever they want, I always assumed they weren’t really affected by temperature since they don’t end up bundling up when they do go to Jotenheim, and can survive in the vacuum of space.

Did they pitch-shift Heimdall’s voice down? Why would they do that when Idris’s voice is already pretty deep?

Honestly, what even was up with Loki freezing in front of Heimdall? Was it part of his plan to make himself seem like Thor’s reluctant accomplice, or was he worried Heimdall had caught on to his plan?

Also, Heimdall doesn’t know for sure Loki can conceal himself from him until he goes to Jotenheim alone and Heimdall knows exactly where to look but doesn’t see him. But if Loki’s had this ability for a while, then surely Heimdall’s noticed that there have been times he tried to spot him and failed. So it’s not unreasonable for him to put two-and-two together and figure out that if Loki could sneak around behind his back, he might be able to conceal others from him as well. So I don’t think it’s fair to suggest, as I’ve seen others do, that Heimdall’s just always been prejudiced against Loki.

Really tho, the entire plot of this movie could’ve been averted if Heimdall had actually done his job. Imagine if the son of the South Korean president just waltzed up to the border and told the guards to open up the gate so he could punch Kim Jong Un in the face. Like, couldn’t they have had Loki do a Jedi Mind Trick or forge Odin’s signature on a fake permission slip or something to make Heimdall look like less of an irresponsible jackass?

The bifrost dome gives me deep body flashbacks to playing Riven in the 90s.

IMAGINE the conversation Heimdall would’ve had to have with Odin if his warning actually came to fruition. “Yeah, I knowingly transported your sons and their friends into enemy territory against your wishes and in violation of the tenuous truce you have with Laufey and they all died a horrible frozen death because I couldn’t bring them home without risking the security of Asgard. Hope Frigga’s baby-maker is still working because you’re gonna need a new heir ASAP to take care of Hela once your crusty-old ass kicks the bucket. You can handle delaying your Odinsleep and inevitable death another millennium-and-a-half until they’re old enough though, right?”

LMAO. One of the warriors says “We shouldn’t be here IMMEDIATELY upon landing. Like, doesn’t even wait for things to go sour. He got all the way down the bridge and through the trippy-space tunnel and then suddenly had second thoughts about 30 seconds too late.

“Your father is a murderer and a thief”. Wow, they were setting up that reveal since the beginning.

“You long for battle. You crave it. You're nothing but a boy trying to prove himself a man.” Okay, but Laufey’s not wrong tho.

Once again Thor, really not endearing yourself to me by telling Loki to shut up in just about the most disrespectful manner possible when he and Laufey are being completely reasonable.

I feel like I recall Laufey being pretty cold-blooded, and I guess he’d have to be to abandon Loki to die, but he’s honestly acting about as sensibly as Odin was before. He’s choosing to let Thor’s insolence slide to avoid war, rather than being eager to slay his enemy’s son even when it wouldn’t be the best thing for his people, as you’d expect a villain like him to do.

So here’s where it gets a little murky on what Loki was trying to accomplish. Like, he clearly set Thor up to go to Jotenheim and stir up trouble. But could he have predicted what happened after they arrived? Did he plan for Thor to start a fight and then chicken out and try to dissuade him when he realized they were outnumbered, or was he counting on being able to talk Thor down, thinking just the fact that they went to Jotenheim against Odin’s wishes would be enough to get him in trouble with their dad? At first I thought maybe the giant could’ve been an illusion Loki created to goad Thor into fighting. But no, that was a real giant, and Loki’s “damn” was a genuine reaction.

Also, Thor starting a goddamned war after Laufey very graciously offered to let him go scott-free because someone called him “Princess” is the epitome of not endearing me to this character. Neither does the line “At least make it a challenge for me!” Like, I thought it couldn’t get any worse than Superman beating the shit out of an ordinary human first thing after regaining his powers in Superman II, but Thor’s taking it to a whole other level. Like, he caves a guy’s face in with his hammer and says “That’s more like it!” Like, this isn’t a bar room brawl. People are dying and he’s loving it. He’s like a full-blown sadist. Also, Chris’s delivery of these lines sounds so much like “But I was going to Tosche station to pick up some power converters!”

Odin was absolutely right when he told Thor “You are unworthy of the loved ones you’ve betrayed”. Thor’s friends should hate his guts after this incident. He nearly got discount Westley from the Princess Bride and the rest of them killed. It makes no damn sense that they’re still all over his dick lamenting the unfairness of his punishment and trying to get him back when they have no evidence of Loki being up to anything.

Honestly, even if Loki felt bad about goading him into going to Jotenheim, Thor was still the one who chose to pick a fight instead of leaving peacefully. If I were Loki, I wouldn’t have even tried to speak up, cause Odin was saying nothing but the truth. I can’t tell if it’s a testament to Loki’s character that he loves his brother so much that even when he proves him entirely correct about not being ready for the throne (which was his whole plan all along) he still feels compelled to defend Thor, or if it’s a testament to how poor the writing is that they actually think Loki should feel bad and try to defend Thor, as if what Thor did wasn’t completely indefensible and he brought Odin’s reprimands upon himself. Loki may have provided the bait, but Thor didn’t have to take it.

I feel like 90% of the reason I, and everyone else, hate Odin is because of TDW, not this movie. Like, he seems level-headed enough with the wisdom he tries to bestow and he’s clearly distraught and on the verge of tears as he prepares to banish Thor. You can tell he’s disappointed and reluctant, but has to do his duty as king by giving Thor the punishment he absolutely deserves for his crimes. But in TDW he’s suddenly making a lot of bad decisions regarding how to deal with the Dark Elves and is absolutely stone cold toward Loki. He doesn’t show a hint of heartache over what his son has become or what he is duty-bound to do to him, and even seems to relish letting Loki know he’s essentially dead to him and he’s going to make the rest of his life as miserable as possible. I feel like this might’ve been done because they wanted Frigga to be the only one who hadn’t given up on Loki, so it’d be sadder when she died. But it had the side-effect of making it seem like Loki’s perception of being less-loved was a lot more valid than I think it was intended to be.

Thor has no way of knowing about the enchantment Odin put on the hammer because he wasn’t present for it, so how does he know later that the reason he can’t pick it up is because he isn’t “worthy” rather than just because he’s now mortal? Also, could anyone have picked up the hammer before, or was the enchantment always there and Odin just changed the conditions of what “worthy” was? Or could Thor have picked up the hammer before because he had his powers, but then couldn’t because he was stripped of them and reduced to mortal strength and only got the godly strength he need to be able to lift the hammer when the hammer deemed him worthy?

Also, how does making Thor mortal work exactly? Do Asgardians have some equivalent of the heart-shaped herb from Black Panther that gives them their superpowers or are they actually born that way and Odin can somehow suppress their super strength and other magical powers?

[nerdgatehobbit]

10/4/22 Ramblings

Time for an update!

I have started XWP’s third season, which continues to be a jumble of goofy and bleak.  It’s overall enjoyable, but there are times where the tonal shifts get a bit jarring.  Speaking of third seasons, so far I’ve really been enjoying Sun & Moon Ultra Legends; it’s hard to believe that I’m nearing the end of the Alola era of the anime.  It’ll be interesting to then go back to its inspiration, the Orange Islands.

... As January nears, I will likely end up theorizing about how/which Hisui sync pairs will show up in Pokémon Masters EX.  Listen, if Ash can show up, then so can they.  Plus it’ll be some time before any Paldea sync pairs appear.  And yes, there will be Paldea content once Scarlet & Violet come out.  I have not been joking about Pokémon being my comfort fandom since mid-2020 (Dinotopia got me through the spring).

I have figured out the Blu-Ray drive, so there will be plenty of Sailor Moon screencaps in the future.  Okay, yes, technically I have a few now but I kinda want to see if I get their Crystal counterparts before sharing them here.  More seriously, I did enjoy the first episode, especially as it does a lot of the set-up for later magical girl anime.  I still don’t know when exactly those reviews will start.

At this rate, I think I’ll just watch the season 1 retrospective for Arrow and post my thoughts on it on the pilot’s 10th anniversary.  It’s hard to believe that the Arrow-verse has been around for a full decade now.  I don’t want to risk burnout and/or lack of care in my posts by trying to review too much at once.

I’ll likely watch SGA’s “Suspicion” within a week, as its review is scheduled for the 16th, with screencaps to follow.  I’ll be skipping the rest of disc 2, though, so after that it’ll be “Home”.  However, the mid-season two-parter will be combined for my December post, so that’ll be fun!

... I keep forgetting to watch the rest of ALOK’s first season.  I really need to do that this month, because I don’t want to leave it hanging that drastically.  I’ve heard it gets better, and I do like the cast and the animation, but I do think the uncertainty of how many episodes they’d get caused the plot to flounder to a degree.  At least I’ve kept to my promise to myself not to start the Power Rangers mini re-watch before finishing ALOK’s first season.  Which is why there hasn’t been a burst of PR screencaps yet.

I did recently watch the 2008 Sense and Sensibility miniseries; I overall liked it but the pacing felt... off, somehow.  The outfits were nice enough, but I’m not sure if I’ll go back to get screencaps of them.  I still need to write up a blog post on it, though.

Obviously, I’ve been greatly enjoying DS9.  Now, once I’m done with the screencaps for the second & third episodes, I think I’ll have to start doing multiple posts a day so that the difference between which episode I’m posting about and which episode I most recently watched doesn’t get too large (I’m now up to “Battle Lines”).  I think I’ll do one episode’s worth of screencaps across roughly ten days (as some months run long) in general, possibly switching to one a week for February.  This obviously isn’t set in stone, but it might work out.

I did see & enjoy Hocus Pocus 2; I liked it, but I don’t have a lot else to say about it.  Possibly it’ll be different when I watch the T*Witches movies closer to Halloween.  Similarly, I’ve been watching & enjoying The Rings of Power and Andor, but at the very least I’ll wait for the whole season to be out before even considering writing up a post on either of them.

[nish-s-random-writing]

Growing Up (2/?)

Chapter 2! USUK!

(a/n): Thank you for all the notes ahhh! <3 Hope you enjoy this chapter! I was already writing it before I got chapter one up, so it’ll be fairly better edited than the following chapters~

ff.net link || Chapter 1

Whereas Alfred’s mark had delicate vines with blooming blue roses, Arthur’s arm was covered with the markings of an iron gauntlet, almost. Elegant metal-like workings, forming an intricate web of a blue gate, or perhaps a shield. Something akin to that, connected to a Spadian mark spread right over his knuckles—right where Alfred’s thumb first touched him when Arthur took his hand.

The Royal Guards had come to the orphanage all dressed in their gold and blue glory. Alfred had gawked then, much like the other children, and gawked when he saw the fancy-looking blue carriage they were to ride in. His mouth had been hanging open from when he was told he was a monarch, to having said goodbye to his friends, to sitting in cushions so soft he never thought possible in a carriage pulled by elegant white horses, to seeing the huge metal gates surrounding the palace he was soon to live in. And that was just the outside!

The gates parted in their slow, massive movement, and the exquisite courtyard of Spades was revealed to them. Grassy areas and stray bushes were sprinkled around marble and cobblestone walkways, spreading over the enormous grounds. The symbol of the spade was everywhere—on the carriage, the hedges, the gates, the guards’ uniforms, and on the coats given for Alfred and Arthur to wear.

And Arthur, right across from Alfred in his seat, was gawking in equal fashion although with more confusion and less awe.

“Arthur! Isn’t this so cool?” Alfred asked, beaming with excitement.

“Cool?” Arthur was incredulous. “Alfred, this is—”

Unfortunately, he never got to finish his sentence when the carriage jolted to a halt, tipping Alfred forward in his seat. The door do the side was pulled open to reveal a young man standing at the bottom of the stairs which led to the front door.

He was lean and tall, with dark eyes and long dark hair tied at his shoulder, a few stray strands curling around the side of his face. He regarded the two with a look of genuine surprise, before he coughed into his hand and fixed his expression into something more welcoming.

Alfred grinned at him. “Hi!”

“Hello,” said the man with a pleasant smile. “My name is Wang Yao, but you may call me Yao, as most people call me too. I am the Jack of Spades.”

“Woah!” Alfred breathed, jumping out of the carriage. “That’s so cool! You’re the Jack? That’s so awesome!”

“Wait, wait,” There was Arthur, taking a careful step out behind Alfred. “I-if you’re the jack, doesn’t that mean you serve under us? I mean, uh, as t-the king and queen.”

Yao nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

Alfred couldn’t understand why the older boy looked so worried. Maybe he was simply too overjoyed?

“Wait, no!” Arthur cried. “That can’t be, we’re just kids! We can’t be expected to run a bloody kingdom!”

Yao only smiled kindly, a look Alfred found similar to what Miss Amelia did whenever a child cried over something.

“Calm down, Arthur,” he said, kneeling down to their height and offering his hand. “You two won’t be expected to run the kingdom yet. You’ll be raised here, in the palace, and you will be under my protection. I would never let anything harm you two, and when you need me I’ll be there with a single call. Is that okay?”

Arthur didn’t answer at first. He stared at Yao with disbelief, hands curled together under his heavy blue cloak. “I-I don’t know,” he croaked.

“That’s alright. You will be okay.”

“Thanks, Yao!” Alfred piped. “I trust you already!”

Yao raised an eyebrow, but offered a chuckle toward the younger boy who now jumped in his place.

“Alright, alright,” the jack said in his calming voice. “Well, let’s see. Alfred, would you please give me your arm? Yes, the only with the mark of Spades. Ah, look here,” Yao pointed to the Spade which lay in the center of Alfred’s upturned hand, Arthur watching curiously from the side.

“There’s a hole there,” The older boy commented. Yao nodded in agreement.

“And see how the hole is in the shape of a Spade?” Indeed, it made the mark look like a slightly thicker cookie-cutter.

“Now, Arthur give me your arm. See, on your knuckles, your spade is filled completely. That means you’re the Queen, Arthur.”

Ooo000oooO

The palace was wonderful! Alfred was led down winding halls filled with pretty-looking furniture, gold and blue pieces of art, and, the best part, walls upon walls lined with ancient-looking armor shining and gleaming with weapons Alfred wanted so badly to touch, but Yao had told him not to and Arthur was looking at him weird.

They walked through the throne room—it was insanely huge! Two identical golden thrones stood in the middle of a raised marble podium, equal in height and structure. Alfred couldn’t believe he would be sitting with Arthur on those soon!

But as they walked passed he could help but sense the melancholic emptiness surrounding the thrones, curtains drawn over windows and drapes set over some paintings. It was like the room didn’t feel as lively as it should have been, and suddenly, neither was Yao.

They were tugged along by the Jack, further into the palace, and his mood immediately lightened as they left the room. Alfred gawked at tapestries and paintings, at weapons and armor, yanking at Yao’s clothing and asking about all the battle-scenes he saw.

And the man indulged him. He gave a name and a year to each tapestry without pausing, said who fought who when Alfred asked, and was rewardingly greeted with high-pitched exclamations of “woah! And “so cool!”

But when Alfred looked over his shoulder, he found Arthur trudging along with his cloak wrapped tightly around his shoulders. His eyes darted around the palace, lacking any sign of excitement or joy. He had interest, yes, but he seemed almost… afraid.

It was unusual and almost scary in itself, it wasn’t like confident, snarky Arthur at all! But Alfred decided he was still just nervous. It would pass, surely! He could get Arthur to play around the palace and have picnics out on the huge grounds—it would be great!

But for the moment Alfred quieted down and walked at the boy’s pace. Maybe he just needed some comfort.

Arthur fixed him with a scowl, taking a few paces back, but when Alfred was about to question him Yao snapped his fingers to their attention.

“Look here, you two. This is the palace library, where we house over sixteen-thousand books from all throughout the known world!” Yao stood them right in front of a set of massive open double-doors, where inside were shelves that spanned from floor to ceiling filled to the brim with books and ladders running along their lengths. Elegant glass tables filled the massive room, complete with plush seats and a royal blue rug encompassing the entire floor.

“Books?” Alfred mumbled, not entirely sure if he should be amazed by this, but next to him Arthur was staring with eyes wide as saucers.

“Wow,” he whispered.

“Come along now. You can visit these places after you clean up.”

Ooo000oooO

After Alfred had been spun around in a dizzyingly huge bathroom and dressed in a fresh white cotton shirt and black trousers, he was led into a bedroom comprising of two beds, facing each other at opposite ends of the room, along with shelves and dressers filled with all sorts of entertaining-looking things.

And then Arthur was there, dressed in quite the same outfit. But he was fuming, sitting on his bed with crossed arms and a glare to the floor.

“Now, you two just relax for the rest of the day,” said Yao. “Talk, sleep, whatever you please. If you need me, simply holler down the hall. If you want food, you can call for a maid and ask them to fetch you something. Please, make yourselves at home and don’t think too much, alright, Arthur?”

The older boy jumped, meeting Yao’s pointed look. He was confused, but nodded nonetheless.

“Alright, then!” Yao clapped. “I’ll take you around the grounds tomorrow, give you simple pointers, and arrange for your lessons and schedules in a few days.”

“Lessons?” Alfred questioned, wrinkling his nose.

“Yes, lessons. As the king and queen in training, you two have to be sensible and ready enough to lead the kingdom! I’ll see you for dinner.”

With that, the door was closed and Alfred was left alone in a massive room with one evidently upset Arthur.

“Hey, um, Arthur—”

“I can’t believe this,” The green eyed boy growled, glaring at the floor.

“You’re… upset that we’re king and queen?”

“No. I’m angry and in utter disbelief that you,” He fixed his glare on Alfred. “Are the bloody king.”

Alfred stared at him. He took a step back. Something about Arthur’s words, especially after he thought he’d made some sort of progress with him, sent a knife through the boy’s heart. “W-why?”

He didn’t understand. This was supposed to be great, wasn’t it? They were two lost boys who just needed a family, and now they were handed excessive wealth and power and a chance to change things for the better! They now had something of a family in Yao and each other, the power to help others like them and more. The power to make a significant change, and Arthur was mad about it?

“You don’t get it, Alfred. We’re handed this- this enormous responsibility! We’re supposed to grow up and dig this kingdom out of the ditch it’s in and you—you’re the king! Stupid, carefree, irresponsible, dumb Alfred who can only possibly be a nuisance—the boy who’s supposed to lead!” Arthur grit his teeth and stood, making the younger take another step back.

“This was a mistake. I’m not spending my time around you.”

So Alfred was left alone in the room, more than a little hurt.

Ooo000oooO

He found Arthur inside the library climbing one of the ladders to reach a particular spine he’d spotted up above.  

Yao was there too. He stood leaning against the doorframe with arms folded, watching Arthur with thoughtful eyes. Alfred made to stand by his side.

“I heard that, you know.”

“Huh?”

“Has Arthur always… disliked you?”

Alfred pursed his lips, unsure of what to say. “I…” He sighed. “He hated me from the start. He moved into the orphanage just a few days ago and, since then he was really mean.”

Yao hummed. Looking up at him, Alfred decided he liked Yao. He seemed confident, nice, full of helpful advice. He seemed like a wise old master ready to whip out a sword and fight with analytical grace at any given moment.

“Are you a samurai?”

Yao jumped, bristling suddenly. “O-oh, uh, no. You must be thinking of, uh, others. Other people. ”

“You look like one of those people from samurai places.”

“Exactly.” Yao gave him a tight smile. “Well, my place of origin is close to where the samurai are from, a-and people do mix us up. But they’re ancient, ah, haven’t been around for years. They started over at the Kingdom of Hearts, you know, in the east.”

“But you’re like a samurai,” said Alfred thoughtfully, thinking back on Miss Amelia’s history books and the drawings they held. “I think that’s pretty cool.”

Yao blinked. “Well, thank you, Alfred.” And then he furrowed his brows, going back into thought, before resurfacing and facing Alfred with a renewed smile of confidence.

“Do you dislike Arthur too?”

“No!” Alfred gasped. “I really want to be friends with him, but,” He deflated. “I guess he hates me.”

“Well, he has a reason, you know. People don’t act out against others without any reason. It could be something about his past, before he ended up at the orphanage—who knows. But the reason has stuck by him, so you’ll have to convince him otherwise.”

“Oh. How do I do that?”

“Well, take it slow. Make a good impression, but don’t push it too hard. Most of all, though, be yourself. Stay true.” Yao looked at him gently, but Alfred still frowned.

“He hates myself.”

“Ah, but he hasn’t seen your entire self yet. It will be alright, you’ll see.”

Oh Alfred hoped so, if he was to spend the rest of his life with the ‘stick in the mud’.

[writing-frenzy]

I feel this soul deep (now that I have one)

I’d like to thank @crowsketches for helping to inspire this; if I wasn’t bouncing ideas with you, I probably would have never had the inspiration to write this! From this AU Idea, I bring you angst!

Warning: descriptions of violence, pain, and suffering along with some mental instability. If you can’t handle that well, be careful!

No own Cuphead!

It’s interesting, how the simplest of things can knock down, mess up, and even destroy the best laid plans of monsters and fools alike. An unexpected gust, a misplaced word, a little hope have more power than most would ever expect.

In this story, it was a simple observation that caused all the chaos that would change everything in it.

(And yet, sometimes it all just boils down to luck in the end, giving everyone a chance at least once.)

Letting the last of his parchments in his hands enter the hellish fires before him, one Mugman couldn’t have been more pleased with himself then he was now. They beat The Devil himself after all, that should more than enough be a reason to feel just a little proud here! Almost made the punishing chores Elder Kettle would surely give them for this stunt seem just a little more insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

...They did after all have to get into their grandpa’s potions, which were not cheap, or easy to make at all, especially since Peashooter was usually very expensive, if not one of the most expensive ones... So resupplying the old potioneer’s ingredient stash, as well as assisting in making them would be the least the boys can do for their grandfather after he stuck his livelihood out for them. Still, that did not mean it would be in any shape or form fun; there was a reason the old kettle either ordered out or hired professionals to get the things he needed for his concoctions… At least the brothers could now defend themselves as they did it...

Heh heh, heeh, oh, it was going to royally suck.

Sighing, Mugman decided to look around, to get his mind off his chore filled future as well as curious about his surroundings, having never seen an actual throne room and all, even if it was a demons. Seeing said demon still dazed as all those little explosions twirled around them from their throne, and that Cuphead was still burning his contracts, what with him holding more, the blue mug moved a bit, just to take in the vast hall all around them.

It really was ridiculously lavish, gold, marble and what the mug was sure was silk everywhere, with a high ceiling to fit it all in, maybe also show just how small a person was. The younger brother could see how a demon like the Devil could probably like it, seeing as it this space was probably needed to fit their ego. Chancing another look over at the said being, a familiar item on their side table caught his attention.

Was that? Could it really?... Hesitant, as it would put him in proximity to the demon again, yet curious all the same (especially if he was right), Mugman tiptoed over to the rather large table, for him, the mug managed to sneak a peek at the papers that caught his attention, his eyes widening as he took them in.

‘They are! There are more soul contracts!’ was Mugman’s thoughts, taking in the many papers on the table, all laid out before him, along with a number of binders prime and ready to be used.

‘The Devil must have been confident he would win, already planning how he would sort everything here and now…’ Mugman frowned, even as he narrowed his dark eyes at the tables contents. ‘Well, let’s just show him the error in that arrogance of his!’ and with that, the young man grabbed the contracts on the table, a slight smirk on his face as he took them over to Cuphead.

“Hey bro, look what I found!” Mugman nearly chirped, getting his bro’s attention easily, making him look up, seeing just what he had found.

“Ha, nice one Mugman! Whoa!” Cuphead said, before exclaiming as the one he grabbed let out a lot of dust with the rough grabbing movement. “Looks like some of these are pretty old; probably have to be careful not to get tetanus or something” the older brother frowned, glaring at the offending parchment.

“I rather doubt we’ll get something like that; surely they make sure to properly care for items such as these.” Mugman said, even as he threw a few of the contracts into the fire, making sure they burned.

“The Casino is run by the Devil, and is over a literal hell mouth; I doubt they have the best health regulations around.” Cuphead answered, getting his brother to blink over at him as they finally threw their own contracts into the flame.

“...You know, if you had more sensible moments like these, I might stop being surprised every time you say something that actually makes sense.”

“Ha ha, I’ll have you know I’m sensible all the time.”

“You bet our souls to the devil.”

“I SAID I WAS SORRY!”

“Still never gonna let that go bro; neither will Elder Kettle.”

“...Shit…”

“My thoughts exactly.”

One King Dice, Manager of the Devil’s Casino and right hand man of the being, knew he probably deserved some sort of reward for not drinking even one drop of alcohol the whole day.

And boy, if there was a day to get roaring drunk, it would certainly be today.

“Yes, I would like the schedule the reconstruction of the Devil’s Casino at your most convenient timing. Yes, you will be payed- No, we will not pay upfront- No, you will not be paid that mu- I can easily wait for assistance from the mainland, don’t think we can’t… You will be payed a fifth of the payment upfront, which should be enough for building supplies, and not a damn coin more, do we understand each other… Good, glad you see things my way.” King Dice finished, having to force those words through gritted teeth, his eyes green from frustration and anger. Letting out an even breath, the man allowed himself to sit down on a nearby barstool, a gloved hand going to rub at the tension gathering right above his eyes of his die. Unfortunately, this also allowed darker thoughts to start circling.

‘Would a ‘lacky’ be able to do this? Would a good for nothing be able to pull this dump back together again, piece by piece? That bastard better be glad I owe him for saving my ass, otherwise-’ Gritting his teeth, eyes bright green now, the die winced as the tension in his head spiked, having to close his eyes for a bit in pain as he did.

He… needed a moment. Just… To stop thinking for a bit; a distraction would very much be appreciated right now.

“Everything okay Sir?” was said, thankfully getting the manager’s attention, making him look over to the familiar stack of poker chips that was his co-worker.

“Hmph, it will be eventually Bettigan; the construction company will be here in the week, so the casino should be fixed up as good as new pretty soon… How is Wheezy doing?” Dice asked, the green finally leaving his now dark eyes, showing just how tired they were as they stared at the other man.

“A bit touch and go there for a bit Sir, but your quick thinking saved him in the end; with just a bit of rest, he should be okay.” Chips answered, voice in a soft drawl as they looked at their boss in concern and no little respect.

“Please, all I did was push him into his ash pile where he belonged; I just didn’t want to have to deal with the audits he would no doubt leave behind for me to handle.” Dice huffed, scowling even as he heard Chips chuckle in reply, though making sure to look innocent all the same.

“Sure boss, I’ll be sure to tell him that.” the texan drawled, even as he gave the most fake innocent smile to pair with his look, making King shake his head.

Really, sometimes he wondered about his employees.

“Anyone else damaged?”

“The Tispy Troop, along with Pip and Dot got out the lightest in battle, though they are still kicking themselves over the lost. Hopus’s magic went a bit wild for minute, but that’s been calmed easy with some carrot juice.” Chips started, closing his eyes as he thought of his coworkers, “Phear and Mr. Chimes both got out alright too, though they're still smarting over their damaged equipment; won’t be cheap to replace…” Chips grimaced, Dice doing so as well as the bills just kept on piling up.

Luckily they had insurance, even if that was going to be a bitch to go through later, it would make the hit the casino took at least a little less.

“Mangosteen and Pirouletta, next to Wheezy, are the runners up on this shit list; Mango got sick real bad, damaged a rib, while Letta broke her leg and some burns. They should both be fine in a week though, so there’s that if anything.” Chips explained, face grim even as he delivered the hard news, getting a sigh from Dice.

Thank hell for magic; made everything so much easier when it wasn’t being an utter pain in his ass.

“Good to know… Though you did forget someone in your report Bettigan.” Dice said, narrowing his dark eyes on the stack of poker chips, which blinked up at him in confusion, before understanding lit up their eyes.

“No worries here boss; might have looked bad, but I’m used to pulling myself back together easily. Second nature now.” Chips assured, even as his boss’s eyes started going green.

“Be that as it may, you will have a check up at the infirmary before the day is done, am I clear?”

“I’ll be right behind ya boss.” was the reply he got in turn, make the die roll his eyes.

“I am fine, so need to get your chips out of place over it.”

“That would be easier to believe sir if you didn’t look like you would pass out at any moment.” was the blunt reply the texan gave, getting a glare for his cheek.

Unfortunately, he did have a point; matching black eyes and a missing tooth, combined with his cracked die and rather tattered outfit probably didn’t paint the best picture. Not to mention he honestly felt how he looked, sore and tattered in places he hadn’t known existed; Bettigan was right in his observation, King Dice was not at his best right now, and could probably use an aspirin or two.

Did not mean he wanted it pointed out though.

“Thank you for your opinion, it has been noted; now, if you’re well enough to blather about, you can surely help with the paperwork.” Dice said, motioning to the rather large stack he had going on at one of the few intact tables, one he had been interrupted from with the construction company’s callback.

That managed to elicit a nervous chuckle, “You know what, maybe I should go for just a quick check in, never hurts to have someone else double check you know.” they managed, even as they backed away warily.

“Be sure that you do-” a sharp feeling in his chest cut him off, a gloved hand reaching there, even as he suddenly gagged, feeling as if something was choking him, strangling from his neck to chest.

“Boss!” was all he managed to hear, only for darkness to steal away his senses all together after that.

King Dice frowned, feeling at a lost as he stared into the inky blackness all around him, not even able to see his own hand in front of him, though at least able to feel it, judging by the pressure on his face.

This… was rather disconcerting… The die just opened his mouth, wondering if his hearing was just as impaired as his sight, when an utterly profound, painful, near awful feeling came over him. He couldn’t even scream, the pain so much in his simple flesh and blood, taking over everything thought, every action, every single point of focus in this all encompassing darkness.

And yet, despite the agony he was going through, despite all the pain that brought a wet heat to his eyes, Dice could never remember feeling so complete as he was now. Like fixing a dislocated limb, it was as if one were jamming a missing piece he had been unaware this whole time into his very being. The process ever so painful, and yet so filling it left the proud man in tears.

Oh,but it didn’t just end there; with this completed feeling, images soon came to join with the pain, some going so fast he could barely comprehend the emotions with them.

(somanyfacessomanysmilesjustforhimsmilinglaughingteasingloving.)

Others though seemed to slow down, letting the man actually take them in, savor their emotions for just a bit before they too were just as gone from his grasp.

(A smiling woman, so full of love, her hugs just as warm as a mother’s should be, always open for one more.)

Gasping, King grabbed at his head, curling into himself as the barrage continued, the slow/fast pace of it all nearly impossibly for his mind to handle.

(astrangerwithhoneyedwordsandmouthcharmingpromisingseducing.)

Until suddenly, it wasn’t just in his head anymore, the tide seemingly curbed for now as a glow in the darkness shined out, easily getting his attention. Despite the lingering ache his body was in, King forced himself forward, even as each step towards it seemed to rip and tear at his very being when finally, he made it to where the glow originated from.

Before him, what was shining was a mirror, barely being able to call it as such because it looked like just merely a reflective sheet of glass. No, what made it so was when Dice looked into it, it was as if he was staring into an amusement park one, the sight inside giving the man a shock.

Tired, yet glowing yellow-gold eyes stared hard back into pained glowing greens, twin faces similar in looks, though one done in purple while the reflection was red.

For this moment in time, Dice could only just stare at this other version of himself, so many thoughts and feeling welling up in him even as he did, so many questions as well accompanied them. Just as he was about to voice his confusion, the die blinked when his reflection beat him to the punch, their lips moving, yet no sound coming out.

It was more than enough for the master manipulator though, lip reading just one of their many skills.

You need to remember.

“What?” Dice couldn’t help but ask, only to take a hasty step back when he heard a thunderous crack, the mirror before him filling with them, even as the reflection continued to stare on forlornly.

Remember what is important. Was all the the red pip die was able to managed, just as they shattered before his very eyes.

And yet, even as he stared on, those shining shards of mirror falling all around the horrified die, Dice did.

He was remembering.

Two people, a young die and a handsome man, dancing under a fun moon’s glow, candlelight surrounding them even as they moved all around.

“Do you love me?”

“I do.”

“More than anything?”

“Of course!”

“How much?”

“I love you, with all my heart and soul- wha?”

“Haha, I was hoping you would say that.

“I-I don’t, whats?”

“Amazing really, the most damning things said in love.”

A youth running, hurrying, fast as they can, getting away from that monsterdemondevil on their tail.

“Can’t let him, I-I can’t let him get them…”

‘Have protect them’

“My-hack-family.”

‘Can’t let that bastard get to them; not now, not ever.’

“Gotta warn... them.”

‘No matter what.’

The two figures are back together again, except there is no tenderness here with a devil revealed, as the young die at their feet screamed, pain all but consuming them from the magic taking place here tonight.

“You have cost me most powerful souls, welp. For that, I will not forgive… But we will have time to make sure you learn your lesson, won’t we?”

Glowing yellow eyes burned bright up at their tormentor, even as slowly, inching deeper and deeper, a hypnotic green started filling them, much like an infection, the pips gaining a purplish color to them on the die’s head.

“Heh, yeah; you’ll have plenty of time to learn your place.

“...” Dice stared, just taking it all in, gathering as much thought as he could managed together even as he felt himself falling, falling, falling ever so slowly downward, upward, side to side.

His entire life was a lie… His loyalty, his trust, himself… Just a sham, a fake… Not even his memories were spared...

The Devil tricked him out of his soul, messed with his mind, and lied to him his own life...

Stunned as he was, shocked by what he had seen, the die didn’t even realize he was awake until he felt something wet on his face.

Blinking, the casino king brought a gloved hand to his face, trying to find the source of the dripping he was feeling. It took him an embarrassingly good chunk of time to realize he was the source, the wetness on his face tears.

That… That was new. Or at least, King couldn’t remember the last time he actually cried.

-waswhenthedeviltorturedhim- wincing at the pain, King closed his eyes, hissing between clenched teeth.

Oh, he was going to be in for one hell of a time, the die could already tell… Question was, just how was he going to spend the experience? Could he really stay at the casino, with-

NO.

King let out a full body shudder, not even needing to finish the thought; that had been a stupid question honestly.

(Who knew just what he would do to his old boss, if he saw them now?)

Looking around, King felt a bit of relief seeing that he was in the infirmary, as not only could he get some pain medication here before he left, it was conveniently close to the Casino’s back door entrance. Lucky him, it seems.

Getting up, cringing slightly as how even this simple movement brought him pain, the injures from before still there along with the painful ache of getting his soul back, Dice made his way to the medical supplies. Easily finding the aspirin and downing two dry before deciding to pocket the bottle, they paused at the sight of bit of red from the corner of his eye. Blinking, Dice turned slightly, wondering if he was bleeding, only to stop in his tracks as he fully registered what he was seeing.

It was the red pip die he had seen in his ‘dream’, except much older and injured than before, though those tired yellow glowing eyes were still the same. Bringing up a hand, Dice touched the reflection, with it mirroring his action in return.

...So, this is what he looked like with a soul…

(How was he suppose to feel about this? Happy? Angry? He really didn’t know.)

Shaking his head and turning to leave, Dice was only stopped by a pointed cough in the corner of the room. Frown now firmly in place, they turned yet again, only to blink in surprise at the familiar sight of one of his coworkers, Wheezy, in bed.

And boy, did they look like they needed it; a bit burnt out, and smoking slightly on the darker side, the cigar had a few more cuts to his name, with a paleness that would only disappear in time. And yet, even pained, those yellowed-red eyes were still sharp, narrowed in on his boss as they frowned right back, concern and worry easy to see in the lines of his face and brow.

Blinking slightly, Dice wondered at that, not remembering them being particularly close, but then again, while King’s always had a good ability of reading people and using it to his advantage, the reasons behind why and how they could come about were always a mystery to him…

(Then again, those without souls weren’t the best with emotions, understandably.)

And yet, he looked at Wheezy, and could see that the man respected him, cared for maybe, from how long they have worked together and all, so the worry wasn’t misplaced… In fact, it was returned, Dice just as concerned about his co-workers own damage as he was with his own...

Guess having one’s soul back brought out the emotions in people…

(Wasn’t sure he liked that or not.)

“Leaving already King? Not even a goodbye kiss to remember you by?” Wheezy rumbled, eyes unblinking, keeping an even stare with the man standing, playing casual even as their whole body was run through with tension and pain.

“Like you could even handle one in your state; you’d probably keel over before anything could even start.” Dice replied back automatically, grimacing slightly at the rather weak retort. He could usually come up with something more cutting than that, but considering his mind’s state right now, he’ll give himself a pass on it.  

At that, the Cigar gave him an unreadable look, gone so fast the die didn’t even get a chance to try and decipher it. The other let out a breath, dark smoke coming out heavily with it, twirling in the air and leaving the smell of spices and tobacco over the sterile environment, before motioning over to something on his left with an uninjured hand.  

“True enough there, but at least I don’t forget the essentials when I’m leaving a place; lucky you have some helping hands looking out for you.” The Cigar said, which was what prompted Dice to look over, eyebrows rising in surprise.

Right on the table next to what had to have been his bed, the sheets and pillows all in disarray, was his black suitcase, his gloves and cards jumping all about, but then standing to attention when they noticed they had his. But what really got his notice was a simple paper atop his case, already filled out and just needing a signature to finish it.

It was a resignation letter, just one simple page and written beautifully full of backhanded compliments and dry subtext.

Dice choked, hand going to his mouth even as he could feel those damn tears start up again. Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, the former casino manager grabbed the pen on the table, writing his name down, surer in this then he was in anything else right now.

He knew it was best for him to leave; if nothing else, his mental health would need the time away… and yet, he still felt pained, the thought of leaving this hell.

(Amazing, the places one can grow fond of even as you hate them.)

“Dice.” was called, making the desired man look up, eyebrows raising as he saw Wheezy holding a paper of his own. “Make sure to keep in contact; if you get found in a ditch, who knows how that will impact the casino’s good name.”

“...Probably might just improve it, really.” Dice said dryly, a weak smile on his face, even as he went for the paper in the cigar’s hands, getting a laugh at his words.

Looks like he wasn’t as alone in this little misadventure; somehow, that made things look a little brighter at least..

Far away from the magic and chaos of Inkwell and a certain casino, a woman that could only be described as a goddess done up in reds, yellows, and black blinked, her wine colored eyes going to her glowing pendant on his chest. The shining sun that glowed in the garden she was in did not do anything to hide said glow, as the pendant shown red in the woman’s hands.

“My Lady Luck, is everything well?” a servant asked, even as they delivered a most lovely tea to the classy lady, only the best for such an elegant being.

“Oh, nothing to worry yourself; just a mother’s worry.” Lady Luck answered absentmindedly, the red jeweled die in her hands still giving off a light most ominous.

Whatever this would bode for in the future, the mother could only hope her child would make it through alright.

(She’s already lost him in spirit; she doesn’t want to lose him forever.)