#is she struggling against them and calling for help or has she resigned herself to her fate after so many decades?

[drowninginaseaoflemurs]

the only thing i can think about while watching the underworld scenes is that hazel’s trapped in asphodel right now

[spenceragnewfics]

can you please!!! do Spencer with a taller lady 🥺 thinking about how obsessed he would be with their long legs

I loved this idea and knew exactly what I wanted to do! I hope you enjoy!

SHORT KING AND HIS TALL QUEEN | Spencer Agnew x Tall!F!Reader

Summary: Y/N, a tall woman who has struggled with insecurities due to childhood bullying and societal judgments, had almost resigned herself to a life of loneliness. Her perspective began to change when she met Spencer at a party in LA. Despite their height difference, Spencer's genuine interest and love helped Y/N overcome her fears.

Word Count: 815

All her life, Y/N had felt some shame being a tall woman. As a young child she was bullied in school for being taller, that lead to her having a lot of insecurities as she got older. She never really dated in school because most guys either didn’t like that she was taller than them or they couldn’t get past her the assumptions put on her by her classmates.

While the bullying slowly came to a stop, the damage was done. Y/N felt as if she was a loveless monster because she was born to be a bit taller than some people. This feeling continued into college and even after she graduated, she had almost settled on a life of being single until she met Spencer.

She was visiting a friend in LA and was introduced to him by her friend at a party. She couldn’t miss the excited look on her frined’s face before they rushed off. “You must be Y/N, I’ve heard a lot about you from Beth.” He yelled over the music as he put his hand out. “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you, Spencer.” She said and shook his hand.

The two hung out the rest of the night. They talked, took shots, danced, and sang along together the whole night. The night slipped away, feeling like only mere minutes compared to the hours they hung out. Y/N was the one to leave first, needing to get home to take care of her dog. They exchanged numbers and it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship turned relationship.

At first, she was nervous about dating Spencer. He was much shorter than her but he didn’t seem to care, if anything, it seemed to make him more interested. It took her a bit to get used to the stares they would get in public, but she got over it and started to ignore them. Everything seemed to go fine, until she was in a Smosh video. 

Y/N is not an influencer, not by any means, but she does have an amazing sense of humor. Spencer really wanted her to in a vidoe because he thought her humor would mess well with some of the games cast and her opportunity came after Amanda called out last minute because of a family emergency.

The filming was smooth as she knew everyone, having come by the Smosh office plenty of times since her and Spencer started dating. She never even thought anything of the small jokes the cast would make during the vide about her and Spencer dating after they introduced her as his girlfriend at the start of the video.

That was a couple of weeks ago, now, she’s sat on her couch in shorts as she reads the comments on the video she was in and feels her heartbreak. Spencer is sitting next to her with her legs in his lap as he watches some random movie on the TV when he notices her change in body language.

“Babe, everything okay?” He asks, running a comforting hand up and down her legs. She doesn’t say anything, her eyes focused on the comments in front of her as her thumb continues to scroll.

Spencer leans over to see what she’s looking at then rolls his eyes before slipping her phone out of her hands. “Spence! I was ready-” He interrupts her by putting his lip against her’s. His hands find home on her hips as she wraps her arms around his neck. The kiss is full of love and passion, his lips moving against her in a slow and gentle motion to show his need of her.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on her’s, “Don’t read the comments on videos. If you do, then only pay attention to the good ones. The people who write hate comments are lonely assholes who have nothing better to do in life than hate on other people.” He says, squeezing her hips.

“That’s easy for you to say, Spence. All these people are saying, are things that just confirm what my bullies used to tell me.” She says, her eyes getting watery as her insecurities start to show. “Like I said, they’re assholes.” He says before kissinf her neck and slowly moving his lips down until he is kissing the exposed skin of her legs.

“I want you, because you’re an amazing girl. You love so hard and you are so fucking hot, like oh my god. These legs!” He practically moans as he continues to kiss up and down her legs. She smiles to herself, relishing in the feeling of his lips on her legs as she thinks over his words.

Why does she care what random people say? She has a loving boyfriend and friends who love her for her and that’s all she could ever want and need.

[rose-and-thorn-fanfics]

Kars x Fem! OC (Ivy Joestar)

Just because Ivy chose to follow her twin brother everywhere didn’t mean she approved of the messes he got into. So when he had faced off against Wamuu beneath the colosseum, she had struggled to contain her distress so as not to reveal her hiding place when he got blown off the ground with Divine Sandstorm. It was what happened after he escaped that had Ivy most shocked. Stuck hiding in the dark underground of the colosseum, she started to get tired of all things. Hours went by as she listened to the pillar men discussing some sort of red stone. She dared not sneak a peak at what they looked like despite how close they were. After a bit, she began to dose off. Until she heard a low and charismatic voice above where she was curled up.

“Tired, little one?” The voice said. Ivy startled awake, yelping. “You’re quite foolish to assume we hadn’t noticed you here the whole time….”

Ivy looked up with fear to see who spoke, past chiseled abs and tight pecs until they rested on a face shaped like a flawless statue of a god, blue eyeshadow and all. She scrambled backwards until her back met a column of stone.

“What do you think, Wamuu? This one emits great fear, showing she has some sort of intelligence.” The pillar man called over his shoulder as he knelt down, examining Ivy with great curiosity.

“She may just be a scared virgin, Kars.” The blond pillar man known as Wamuu said, joining the one he addressed as Kars in staring at Ivy Joestar.

Kars laughed wickedly. “Either way, she is suitable.” He said, reaching out and touching Ivy’s cheek with curiosity.

“I’m uhhhh…. Ivy. And you guys don’t have to talk like I’m not here,” she spoke up, a bit indignant.

Kars ignored this comment, stroking her body and sending shivers up her spine. Ivy hated to acknowledge it but Kars was very attractive. As if sensing her lustful thoughts Kars picked up Ivy effortlessly carrying her draped over his strong shoulders up the stairs to the above-ground level of the colosseum, beckoning the others to follow with his free hand.

Ivy didn’t struggle. She didn’t cry for help. She had witnessed the destruction the pillar men had caused and she knew it would only end terribly if she got other humans involved. ‘Besides… I mean, look at that fine ass…’ she thought absent minded. As she was slung face first over Kars’ shoulder she had a perfect view of—- ‘SHUT UP IVY.’ She scolded herself, silently cursing. “You’re probably his next meal.’

Kars had left the colosseum into the night air with Wamuu and the other pillar man known as Esidisi who he was having some sort of conversation with. He carried her through a few dark alleyways and into an abandoned hotel where he laid her down on a bed. He then left the room, locking the door behind him. Ivy sat up immediately, looking for a way to escape. But soon realized all the windows were barred with metal or boarded up with heavy slabs of wood she’d be too weak to pry off. Lying back down in resignation, Ivy’s mind wandered to think of potential reasons the pillar men hadn’t eaten her yet. Until the three of them reentered the room, Esidisi and Wamuu lying down on the other two beds. Kars sat at an old desk that had been left in the abandoned hotel, deep in thought.

“I can’t believe you two are tired already after sleeping for so many years…” Kars grumbled at his companions. “I personally feel energized.” He eyed Ivy who blushed, immediately avoiding his piercing red gaze.

Wamuu stretched, Esidisi sat up in bed, seemingly instantly overcoming their exhaustion to be useful to Kars. Ivy came to the conclusion that Kars must be the leader of the trio.

“What would you have us do, Lord Kars?” Wamuu asked, stifling a yawn. Kars glanced at them then back at Ivy.

“Ivy…” Kars said, the sensual timbre of his voice filling Ivy’s heart with weakness. “You must be that human Joseph’s sister that he mentioned when he thought he called out to was going to die. How touching that you followed him to your own doom. I suppose we could use you for dual purposes.” He mused. “Come here, undress for me.”

Ivy got up obediently, taking shaky steps towards Kars and unbuttoning her blouse. A tear trickled down her cheek as the space between them grew smaller.

“If we are to be the ultimate beings, we’ll need a woman to carry our offspring.” Kars said, meeting Ivy’s gaze steadily and caressing her now exposed breasts. “You’ll make a great concubine for my needs.” He leaned in humming softly. “Esidisi and Wamuu can find their own human pets.” His hands made their way down Ivy’s soft midriff to where her skirt clung on to her by a button. Kars licked his lips, temporarily exposing his fangs before ripping off the button of Ivy’s skirt and letting it fall to the floor.

Ivy felt so wrong in that moment that she started to think of running until Kars pinned her against the brick wall, biting her gently and whispering in a language she could only assume was ancient. She melted at his touch, or at least, her dignity melted away. Kars released his hard erect cock from its skimpy cloth covering. Moaning at the sight, she submitted to the purpose he had given her. Kars forcefully spread her legs, and massaged her clit with his long and talented fingers. She knew it wasn’t for her pleasure that he did this. He made that very clear with the way he sunk his fangs into her fleshy breasts. She stifled a cry of pain. Kars was simply preparing her as nothing more than a cock sleeve for his intimidatingly large length. He teased her a bit, mocking her as she whimpered pleas for mercy. Finally, he rammed his cock into the soft folds of Ivy’s pussy. She felt the wind get completely knocked out of her. Ivy couldn’t make a sound, her only option to avoid collapsing to the ground was to lean into Kars penetrative embrace, letting him support her body as her vision swam with rainbows of dizziness. Taking this as a cue to slide deeper inside his human toy, Kars grasped Ivy’s hipbones and thrust himself further into her warm and wet depths.

It seemed from that point on, Kars only went harder on the girl. Eventually he had to carry her to the open bed and lay her down on it so he could fuck her when her muscles gave out. Hours passed and load after load of his cum filled Ivy’s weakening body. Finally, Kars pulled out, satisfied with his handiwork. He shoved Ivy to the foot of the bed and fell asleep outstretched on the mattress. Ivy cried herself to sleep and slept harder than she ever had. She awoke to the feeling of her thighs skin being sliced into by a thin blade. She screamed in pain, unable to move as Kars pinned her down. He grinned down at her, enjoying her cries of agony as he carefully carved an ancient symbol into her. When he finished, Ivy glanced down, examining it and panting, dabbing at the bleeding with the bedsheets. She assumed it was Aztec for his name. Or some sort of mark to designate her as his property.

“It becomes her… don’t you think?” Kars stated proudly to Esidisi, gesturing at the damage done.

Esidisi nodded. “You should be honored to bare Kars’ mark, mortal.” He added.

Ivy began sobbing. This was more than she could take. She still felt immense pain in her whole body from sex with Kars, and this would render her hopes of escaping fruitless as she could barely stand without feeling the skin on her thigh stretch and cause her to howl. Kars licked the salty tears from her cheeks, pleasuring her with the occasional kiss. “Good girl.” He sighed, then got up, leaving the room and beckoning for his companions to follow. “It is night. Let us take advantage of the dark in our search…”

Thanks for reading! Reblog if you enjoyed it!

TUMBLR FANFIC TAG-LIST!

@sflame15-blog

@rottent33th

@armyangxls

@darkangel4405

@promiseokza

@6lostgirl6

@vamp-doll-diva

@queen-dk

@richardamboramylove55

@chaos-4baby

Comment rose to join and thorns to leave!!!!

[liminalpebble]

Violet: Chapter 19, Be Not Afraid

Masterlist link 

Chapter 19: Be Not Afraid

Violetta couldn't breathe. The tears had ceased but her respiration was still halting and shallow against the soft fabric of Will's sweater. Although she hated to relinquish his touch, she stepped back, attempting to gather more air into her stubbornly locked lungs.

He still held her hands and looked into her eyes. “Darling, breathe with me...slowly,” he encouraged her, and she tried to follow his lead.

“I'm...I'm dizzy.”

“It's alright, love...come....come sit down,” he instructed, bringing her to a soft velvet sofa. “Now,” he continued in a soothing, authoritative voice, “do you see the candelabra over there?”

“Uh....yes,” she said, puzzled.

“Count the candles for me.”

“What?”

“Trust me.”

“Umm...uno, due, tre, quattro, cinque, sei...six candles.”

Will beamed at her, nodding, eyes and cheeks lifting with his warm smile. “Good girl,” he praised.

She took a deeper breath and then asked, “What was that?”

“Ah...a new technique I've learned to help people calm themselves. It was quite effective with my parishioners in times of crisis.”

Despite her state, she still smirked, saying in a low voice, “But I suspect you never called them 'good girl'.”

“Eheh...” he chuckled, “No...no I didn't.”

In a moment the levity seeped away, and although they felt more calm, the undercurrent of dread chilled them, like cold stone on bare feet. At that moment, the Ambroses made their way into the library, also looking for Violetta, as Will had. Seeing her distressed state, and Will's concerned face they hurried to her.

“Violet! What the devil? What happened?” Charles exclaimed, as Katherine settled on the other side of the sofa with her to hold her hand.

“It's....uh...” She struggled to speak.

Will took up the slack. “It's rather 'who' happened to her.”

Katherine frowned and spat out, “Garrett?”

They nodded. Katherine hissed, “Oh that awful maggot of a man! Making our Violet cry.”

“Katherine!” Charles exclaimed in utter shock. He'd never heard his wife, in all the years of their marriage, speak so venomously of someone.

“Well it's true, Charles! You've seen it too...how he insults her. What has he done now, love?” She asked.

Violet stilled her breath and told them how Garrett was threatening to slander her into wedding him. (They didn't need to know that there might be a grain of truth in his account, so she kept that part of it decidedly to herself).

Violet began to speak, facing Katherine, and the quiet flat resignation in her voice needled the reverend's heart even more than her tears. “I don't know what do, Katherine. I really don't. Men have tried this kind of thing before and the family knew better, but with Garrett...I'm not so sure. For some incomprehensible reason they think highly of him. He's given me two weeks...and...and I just keep getting rejection letters for graduate programs and internships. God...I guess I better prepare myself for the convent.”

“Come now, child. That's obviously not what you want!” Charles chimed in.

Violetta looked up at to older man, surprised by his understanding of her.

“No...no it isn't.”

“Then it shall not be!” Charles said firmly. “Don't forget that we hold a good deal of sway with the mighty Vesperos as well. We can write on your behalf and dispel all this nonsense.”

“Do...do you think that would work?” Violet said cautiously.

“Why shouldn't it! We've known them a good deal longer.”

Katherine chimed it, “And this nonsense about giving her a two week ultimatum, as if she's a hostage!” She tutted in disgust, and said, “Violet, look at me. As long as you wish to, you have a home here, regardless of your courtship status, or academic plans, or working life. Whatever you choose. This is your home, and I won't hear any more about a lovely young lady like you being locked away in a convent with a bunch tedious religious types...no offense intended, Reverend,” she amended quickly.

Will chuckled heartily. “None taken. That's accurate in many cases.”

“Luckily, not in your case Reverend. Thank you for your kindness,” Violet said.

Charles spoke up. “See, my dear? We told you old Will here is nothing to be afraid of.”

Will smiled to them. “On the contrary...if anything, I was afraid of her. She was so clever in school that it terrified me. Shall we let bygones be bygones, Miss Vespero?” He winked as he said it so only she could see.”

She shook his hand. “With pleasure, Reverend Ransome. I owe a great deal to you for your kindness today.”

Will inclined his head in a chivalrous nod, “I am at your service.”

Charles looked around to the three of them sitting on the couch with an air of satisfaction. “Well my dear girl, it seems you have an army.”

---

At the behest of the Ambroses, Violet did her best to enjoy the rest of the evening and not trouble herself about Garrett. They swore they would send a letter first thing in the morning. Luckily, she was able to spend the rest of the afternoon in the sanctuary of the kitchen, busying her hands and mind with a hearty dinner for the gathered company. Violetta was stirring the sauce as she saw Will's tall frame ducking through the doorway.

“Reverend,” she greeted him with a little smile, wiping her hands on her apron.

Catching sight of Greta out of the corner of his eye, Will played along. “Just 'Will' is fine, Violetta. I've just come to offer a hand. Do you ladies need some help bringing things to the table?”

Greta chimed in in her charming cockney accent, “Awww...see that, Violet! You need to find a man like that who actually wants to help about the house. Do you have a son, Reverend?” she asked.

“Heh,” Will laughed and blushed, “Indeed I do, Miss, two in fact, both happily married and overseas.”

Greta tutted, “Oh well, good for them, but our loss, right Vi?”

“Yeah...” she said absentmindedly. “Uh...well. Let's see...you can taste this sauce. Tell me if it needs anything.”

As she lifted the spoon Will steadied her hand with his own while he sipped. He licked his soft thin lips as his Adam's apple bobbed with a swallow. Then grinning broadly, he declared, “Mmm. That's absolutely splendid! I wouldn't say it needs a thing.”

It took her a moment to speak. “Uhhh...good..good. In that case you can take these dishes to the table and we'll be out with the rest in a moment.”

He nodded politely, making intense eye contact. “My pleasure.”

This man and all of his small charms are going to be the death of me. She thought, smiling to herself with a flicker of joy despite her worry and fatigue.

----

After their supper, the mirthful company stood around playing parlor games. Jo sat at the large piano, hands dancing over the glossy keys with relish. Violet was happy to wash away the unpleasant memories of earlier that day with mulled wine, the sounds of song and laughter, and the glowing compliments on her cooking.

Before long, the group was standing circled around the piano singing Christmas carols. Standing beside her, crooning his in dulcet baritone, Will paused to raise an eyebrow at her. “Don't you enjoy singing, Miss Vespero?”

“Ha. I like to hear it. I refused to do it.”

“What a shame! I can be quite fun, you know.”

She smirked her red lips thinking, I could think of a few things to do with you that are much more fun.

“I'm afraid you can't convert me, Reverend. I won't sing. I am, however, a spectacular dancer,” she teased, then sipped at her punch.

“Really?” he said, with a wide grin, “That, I would love to see.”

“See? Wouldn't you dance with me?”

He got lost in the depth of her eyes for a moment as he turned to her, saying shyly, “I'm afraid I don't know the steps.”

“Well, for once, I could be the teacher.” She put forth the offer, laden with sly mischief.

“I would be an honored and obedient student,” he replied, holding her gaze.

When the carols ended, they turned their attention to where the others were pointing up and then chuckling and exchanging kisses.

Violetta looked up, seeking the source of the reaction. “What's going on?”

“Oh! Well...those sprigs hanging from the ceiling are mistletoe. It's tradition here to exchange a kiss if you find yourself standing with someone beneath it.”

At that moment they both looked up, a dawning realization flushing both of their faces. As the pointing and coaxing to kiss continued around the circle, Charles pointed to the two of them. “Ah, Will and Violet! Your turn!”

They both hesitated, regarding the smiling, flushed, tipsy faces turned to them expectantly.

“Uh, forgive me Charles, but isn't it a bit unseemly to kiss a priest.”

The gathered company chuckled at her observation.

Charles answered, “Oh dear girl, we're protestants. We're a bit more relaxed about that sort of thing.”

Will turned to her smirking, “...and it's 'reverend', Violetta, not 'priest'. How many times must I tell you?”

The gathered company started clapping and chanting “kiss, kiss, kiss!” until the two finally relented and pecked each other lightly and reluctantly on the cheek.

“There. That wasn't so bad, was it?” Charles asked with a chuckle as the revelry continued.

 -----

Violetta made her way to her rooms through the sleeping mansion, as usual, the last to bed in the evening. She liked the quiet of the night, but the hustle and shock of the day had worn her out too much to stay up for long. As she settled into her nightgown and her sheets she heard a nearly imperceptible knock and opened the door curiously.

Will swung in gracefully, taking care to quietly close the door behind him, before holding her close, kissing her delicious lips and freshly washed face and neck, tasting her sweet, clean skin.

“Will!” she gasped out in a whisper. “Are you mad? There's a house full of people!”

He met her eyes, earnest and solicitous, and spoke softly. “I know, darling. I just had to hold you. I had to make sure you're alright, and one silly peck under the mistletoe was certainly not enough. Let me hold you, just for a little while, please Bella” he implored, enclosing her in the secure ring of his arms.

Taglist: @coldnique @muddyorbs @goblingirlsarah @acidcasualties @jennyggggrrr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @icytrickster17 @pati52 @marcotheflychair @ladyofthestayingpower @gigglingtiggerv2 @alexakeyloveloki @letsg00000honey @bitchyexpertprincess @sweetsigyn  @talklokitome @dragonmurray @peaches1958

[intogenshin]

Why Alhaitham says Kaveh is his mirror

Alhaitham calls Kaveh his mirror because they’re based on the two outstanding traits of the same character from ayn rand’s rancid novel The Fountainhead.

Less like a homage and more like a challenge against the themes in the novel itself, though.

The Fountainhead’s protagonist, Howard Roark, is an intransigent young architect who battles against conventional standards and refuses to compromise with an architectural establishment unwilling to accept innovation.

This Kaveh in a nutshell.

Roark embodies what the author believed to be the ideal man, and his struggles reflect her belief that individualism is superior to collectivism.

Not quite Haitham but individualism is there.

The author of the novel is a rather controversial figure both in philosophy and politics. She’s the founder of objectivism and a capitalism worshiper that started preaching her beliefs right before the Cold War began to take form.

Nowadays you’ll only find libertarian incels who like her work.

(I wish I could be objective to her objectivism but those beliefs are what supported the USA’s imperialist foreign policies that destroyed my country in irreparable ways, so I can’t extend any kindness to her work)

But like I said, I don’t think Hoyo took her work seriously either. It’s more like addressing certain points from this novel and developing them in actually compelling ways, while also refuting some of them through Alhaitham and Kaveh.

Rand believed individualism to be the only means to achieve true freedom against concepts like collectivism, which she describes as sacrificing one’s own freedom to prioritize that of others. Unsurprisingly, she was also very anti Socialism.

She held the usual belief that Communism/Socialism was precisely about taking away a person’s individuality like a regular US person living in a bubble of propaganda, which is reflected on the novel’s plot of mob mentality.

Ellsworth M. Toohey, who writes a popular architecture column in the Banner, is an outspoken socialist who shapes public opinion through his column and a circle of influential associates. Toohey sets out to destroy Roark through a smear campaign.

Genshin addresses this through Alhaitham’s story quest, The Illusions of the Mob, making a far more interesting, compelling and smarter case based on this theme with the concept of the Hivemind, or the “collective consciousness” as they call it.

The novel revolves around its mary-suish character’s misunderstood genius, who falls victim of the smear campaign.

Everyone turns against him, even the woman he‘s in a situationship with, who gives up her own personal will and joins the mob against him out of resignation.

Dominique decides that since she cannot have the world she wants, in which men like Roark are recognized for their greatness, she will live entirely in the world she has, which shuns Roark and praises Keating. She marries Keating and turns herself over to him, doing and saying whatever he wants, and actively persuading potential clients to hire him instead of Roark.

There’s other characters who betray Roark (and their own principles) to follow the mob bc of outside pressure, which parallels the plot of Illusions of the Mob, where Siraj recruits multiple people who feel isolated to join his Hivemind - with the goal of getting rid of Alhaitham.

Rand’s argument stems from her anti socialist views, but it does make a point about “collectivism” hindering personal freedom and taking away individual identity.

But as Alhaitham himself puts it tho, this concept of collective was flawed from the start. It’s not real collectivism.

Collectivism has already been addressed by Genshin’s narrative at this point through Nilou’s character and the Grand Bazaar, where the community functions by helping each other when they’re in need.

(I have this post that goes it)

So by contrast the collective consciousness is not what Genshin accepts as a legitimate example of collectivism.

Even Alhaitham praises the Grand Bazaar at the end of the archon quest:

Ultimately though, I think the biggest own against Rand’s novel is the confrontation at the end of the quest between Siraj and Haitham.

Siraj seeks power and recognition for himself, but unlike the antagonist in the novel he doesn’t hide this fact. His subordinates knew all along he wanted to become a sage, and they weren’t coerced nor fooled into joining, Siraj just took advantage of their situation.

He had nothing to do with the problems those scholars were facing, and his Hivemind offered them what the environment at the Akademiya did not. The scholars willingly chose this alternative.

Toohey is Roark’s antagonist. He is Rand’s personification of evil —the most active and self aware villain in any of her novels.

Toohey is a socialist, and represents the spirit of collectivism more generally. He styles himself as representative of the will of the masses, but his actual desire is for power over others. He controls individual victims by destroying their sense of self-worth, and seeks broader power (over “the world”, as he declares to Keating in a moment of candor) by promoting the ideas of ethical altruism and a rigorous egalitarianism that treats all people and achievements as equally valuable.

Siraj believes Haitham to be a equal though, someone who has been ostracized by society due to their non conventional ideas, much like Roark in the novel (who btw dynamites a building from a project he was working on bc it didn’t follow his creative vision)

Alhaitham doesn’t care about neither recognition nor acceptance, his freedom comes from placing no value on outsider’s perspectives about him and staying true to himself.

However, this is not a statement of superiority. We get to meet characters like Ilyas who had other constraints besides just being emotionally vulnerable, having a family to support and a career that demands connections. Haitham’s is not an accessible path to everyone.

But, as the Acting Grand Sage, he does take care of the issue to make the working conditions of the Akademiya less suitable for this kind of mob mentality problems. Although the tradition of labeling people as genius and isolating them does persist I guess.

Alhaitham also has his own views challenged during the archon quest, where he finds a collective/team where he does fit (despite the disputes): the desert gang.

It is precisely because their emotions and principles collided that they were able to put together a plan, and why they were able to fool the Akasha so it would stop predicting Cyno’s moves.

Alhaitham is not a character used as an argument against collectivism or having social connections.

He goes on to befriend Cyno, Dehya and Nilou with no problem. The archon quest comes across as a rather significant character development for him.

Now, on to Kaveh:

For Rand and libertarian incels, altruism is about sacrificing yourself for others. And that’s quite the statement, since altruism is just about attending other people’s needs, but that’s precisely what Kaveh’s character is about.

He’s not just an altruistic person, he voluntarily sacrifices himself in order to help others.

And Hoyo makes a point of it being something that affects his life negatively while also acknowledging he’s just going too far in the pursuit of this principle.

Yet Kaveh isn’t just a once dimensional antithesis to Haitham’s individuality. Like Roark in the novel, he embodies the pursuit of artistic innovation and the struggle against established values. Just, y’kno, not in a stupid way like Fountainhead.

As a field that combines art, technology, and business, it allowed [the author] to illustrate her primary themes in multiple areas. Rand later wrote that architects provide “both art and a basic need of man’s survival”. In a speech to a chapter of the American Institute of Architects, Rand drew a connection between architecture and individualism, saying time periods that had improvements in architecture were also those that had more freedom for the individual.

Roark’s modernist approach to architecture is contrasted with that of most of the architects in the novel. In the opening chapter, the dean of the architecture school tells Roark that the best architecture must copy the past rather than innovate and improve. Roark repeatedly loses jobs with architectural firms and commissions from clients because he is unwilling to copy conventional architectural styles. In contrast, Keating’s mimicry of convention brings him top honors in school and an immediate job offer. The same conflict between innovation and tradition is reflected in the career of Roark’s mentor.

In Rand’s views, this is more about praising capitalism, but in Genshin the Akademiya functions as capitalism itself does so Kaveh’s rather fighting the suppression of arts in the professional field against the prioritization of capitalist interests.

Anyway. Yeah. Haitham and Kaveh portray the two main themes depicted thru the protagonist in Rand’s novel, engaging with her philosophical ideas but discrediting her flawed point of view to offer a more interesting and compelling analysis of personal freedom & artistic innovation.

(Of course you can interpret kavetham with a romantic lens or frame thei relationship as romantic on the basis of that line but it most definitely was motivated by this narrative)

[misty-caligula]

More disorganised s2e7 thoughts part 2

Continuing with the strong theme of “These women are all the same, deep down” having Misty making jokes to Shauna about how easily she kills and unintentionally offending her as she struggles with her strong desire not to kill the goat, next to Shauna calling Misty a serial killer and her whole spiral about it, contrasted with teen!Misty’s complete breakdown about the baby, Kristen and Coach, desperate not to have more blood on her hands, vs Shauna handling her grief through beating Lott to pieces, therapy through getting blood on her hands. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a show do something quite like this before, especially with a character like Misty. Not quite a redemption arc, not quite a forgiveness, just... an empathy arc.

---

Shauna confirming that her unwillingness to connect to Callie comes down to a fear of losing her, a struggle to invest in people who may be taken away again, like Jackie, like the baby. Was pretty sure this was the case, especially after s2e6′s line ‘You try not to love them but of course you do.” Poor woman’s heart has been broken too much, and she just can’t handle it happening again, even at the cost of her own happiness and the love of her own family.

---

Misty’s so used to manipulating people, so used to getting what she needs with violence and threats. From the first minutes with Coach she’s pushing him away when she wants to be closer, her ruses and traps are obvious and toxic. She sees him try to kill himself and uses every tactic she can think of to stop him, and nothing works.

(sidenote: EVERYONE sees Misty as a vicious heartless killer, from adult!Shauna to the girls in the wilderness who assume she killed Kristen, to Coach who genuinely thinks that she can just push him off the ledge. No wonder so many in the fandom seem to as well.)

But what actually stops Coach, what pulls him back is a genuine display of her heart, a moment of that true connection that she so struggles to make. She actually opens herself up and even in his intensely stressed out state he can’t bring himself to hurt her like that. SO curious to see how their dynamic changes. Also incredibly surprised to see him survive the episode.

---

While they were at the compound hanging out and Misty tries to ask a question about the first summer and gets immediately shut down as being inherently inappropriate. Then Nat follows up with her own question, same topic, and is taken seriously. Sometimes I wonder how much Misty really can’t read the room, and how much it is just that the others are biased against her particularly and her way of communicating.

---

Tai just CAN’T stop being the one in charge, she immediately tries to solve Van’s unsolvable problem with some expert she knows, because of course HER doctor’s going to be better than anyone Van’s seen, is going to be a miracle worker, because she wants it to be that way. And the way that Van immediately shuts her down like, she’s mad but not at all surprised, she’s just exhausted and so used to it. There’s no point in pointing it out to Tai because it won’t help, and there’s no point arguing, she’s resigned and she doesn’t have time to waste on gordian knots anymore.

---

When Lott’s trying to get them to leave to protect them, Nat says “come on, Lottie, we’re ALL here.”

There are 8 council members. Did all 8 make it back? Is there someone they think is dead, but isn’t? Am I reading too much into this?? Who knows...

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 3.5/5

Book Blurb: In this clever and swoonworthy YA debut from the New York Times bestselling author of The Love Hypothesis, life’s moving pieces bring rival chess players together in a match for the heart.

Mallory Greenleaf is done with chess. Every move counts nowadays; after the sport led to the destruction of her family four years earlier, Mallory’s focus is on her mom, her sisters, and the dead-end job that keeps the lights on. That is, until she begrudgingly agrees to play in one last charity tournament and inadvertently wipes the board with notorious “Kingkiller” Nolan Sawyer: current world champion and reigning Bad Boy of chess.

Nolan’s loss to an unknown rook-ie shocks everyone. What’s even more confusing? His desire to cross pawns again. What kind of gambit is Nolan playing? The smart move would be to walk away. Resign. Game over. But Mallory’s victory opens the door to sorely needed cash-prizes and despite everything, she can’t help feeling drawn to the enigmatic strategist....

As she rockets up the ranks, Mallory struggles to keep her family safely separated from the game that wrecked it in the first place. And as her love for the sport she so desperately wanted to hate begins to rekindle, Mallory quickly realizes that the games aren’t only on the board, the spotlight is brighter than she imagined, and the competition can be fierce (-ly attractive. And intelligent…and infuriating…)

Review:

When a random chess player beats the world champion chess player and runs away, the last thing she expect is for him to want to play against her again and be willing to do anything for just one more match with her... and maybe a chance to win her heart. Mallory Greenleaf is done with chess, or at least she gave it up after her father's death and has stayed away... she's more concerned with taking care of her mom and sisters and financially providing for them. When she agrees to play one last charity tournament she never expects to play against notorious "Kingkiller" Nolan Sawyer, the current world champion and reigning Bad Boy of chess... and beat him. Nobody expected Nolan to lose, and what's even more confusing is he wants another match with her, he wants to spend time with her, he just wants to be near her. Mallory wanted to end chess but now Nolan and every other person in the chess world wants her back in it. Mallory can't say no when money from the chess tournaments could help her family... yet the more time she spends with Nolan the more she finds herself doing the one thing she promised never to do: actually fall for someone. Yet when the truth of how far Nolan would go to get Mallory back in the chess world is revealed, will she stay around for another match or is the game already over? I loved Nolan so much, he's such a sweetheart and was an endearing love interest. Mallory on the other hand, I wanted to shake, seriously when *spoiler: Nolan pays for her fellowship, essentially pays her to play chess and covers all her costs and she gets pissed, girl that was the money you needed, the money you kept going on and on about that you wanted to help your family but you just turn it down out of spite??? seriously???*. Mallory got on my nerves, I'm going to be real honest, I understand her guilt and her need to want to support her family, but her anger and her jumping to conclusions and her PRIDE, was so annoying. When Oz calls her out on it later, I just wish someone else would have called her out on it sooner cuz dang, the book would have been so much better if she actually worked on it. It's an overall really sweet read and despite not playing chess myself, I found the plays and the tournaments to be interesting and the romance was really cute. I love Ali's books and this was a cute young adult one she wrote. Definitely give it a go if you like chess and want a unique romance read.

*Thanks Netgalley and PENGUIN GROUP Penguin Young Readers Group, G.P. Putnam's Sons Books for Young Readers for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[eddysocs]

Pray You Might — Chapter One (A Dire Decision)

Summary: Carol arrives at Briarcliff against her wishes. Left there with no way out, she knows she can’t fight her way back to her old life, so she resigns herself to her fate. For now.

Word Count: 1,068

Warnings: Period Typical Homophobia

Carol watched out the window as the trees seemed to fly by them as her brother drove. "Thank you," Carol said, out of the blue.

"Don't thank me," Daniel said, hoping he was able to mask the guilt in his voice.

"Why not? Without you, I'd be, oh hell, I don’t know where I’d be. I don’t even dare to think about it. You’re the only one that supported me through all this, Danny. I know I’ve caused the family some grief, but I think we're out of the woods now, wouldn’t you say?"

And out of the woods they were, physically speaking, as the trees thinned out and a massive and foreboding stone building was revealed in the clearing. She knew where they were, she realized with a shudder. It had been in all the newspapers and on television when this place opened up as a sanitarium two years ago. This was Briarcliff. And Daniel was slowing the car down.

"Daniel, what are we doing here," Carol asked, a panic rising up her throat, causing her voice to go up an octave.

"I’m sorry, Carol. I really am, but this all has to stop. After we found you with—" Daniel wouldn’t say it, she knew he wouldn’t. He’d stopped mid sentence as he turned in the driveway. "Anyways, after that, mom and dad, they couldn’t see you carry on that way anymore."

"And so they roped you into taking me here? Daniel, don’t you know how insane that is?" Had this been normal circumstances, the two would have shared a laugh at the unintentional pun, but not this time. Not in a situation this dire.

"Don’t— please don’t make this any harder than it has to be. It’s only for a few months. Then you can come home. You’ll be the old you again," he tried to assure, but Carol was anything but assured.

"'The old me', what’s that supposed to mean," she spat, no longer holding back any emotion. "The old me, as you so put it, was a repressed, timid little mouse of a girl. I find a modicum of independence and sexual liberation and you’re all ready to throw me in a nuthouse? One day you’ll see this for the cruelty it is, Daniel. You’ll regret the day you ever brought me here."

Daniel pulled the car to a stop at the door and got out. Carol was past reasoning with. Their parents knew the only way she’d get in the car was with her brother, and they’d been right, but he felt used. What if Carol was right? What if this wasn’t what she needed? Had they gotten it all wrong? Daniel stopped at the back of the car as he began to doubt himself. He almost got back in to drive off with Carol, until he heard her scream.

"No, get off of me! You will not take me out of this car! Daniel!" But Daniel was frozen as the orderlies dragged her out. He wanted to help her, tell the men to get their hands off his sister, but he couldn’t move.

Finally, Carol was wrestled free from the car. Daniel still watched on in horror as she struggled against the orderlies as they attempted to restrain her. "I’ll be back for you, Carol," Daniel was finally able to call out to her. She only screamed his name in response as she was taken inside. A tear rolled down Daniel's cheek as he walked around the car again to get in and drive off. "I’m sorry," he muttered to himself. "I’m so sorry."

As Carol adjusted her vision to the darkness inside of Briarcliff, she took in her surroundings. She was in a foyer with a grand staircase unlike any she’d ever seen before. "Staircase to Heaven, I call it. It is remarkable, isn’t it," a voice asked, though the question was rhetorical. Carol peeled her eyes away from the staircase, bringing her line of sight back down until she came face to face with the woman who’d spoken.

The woman before Carol had an air of authority about her. She wore a habit, her blonde hair neatly pinned back beneath the wimple. It was clear that she held a position of power within Briarcliff. "I'm Sister Jude," she introduced herself, her voice carrying a mixture of sternness and compassion. "Welcome to Briarcliff Manor. I trust you'll find our facility...enlightening."

Carol's heart pounded in her chest as she tried to gather her composure. She didn't know what to expect, but she knew she had to stay strong. "Thank you, Sister Jude," she replied, her voice slightly shaky, yet she wasn’t going to let her emotions rule her right now. "But I must insist, there's been a mistake. I shouldn't be here."

Sister Jude raised an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by Carol's protest. "Mistakes are not made at Briarcliff, my dear. We are here to provide care and rehabilitation for individuals with troubled minds. And from what I've been told, your mind is in need of some guidance."

Carol's eyes narrowed with defiance. "I am not insane, Sister. I may have made mistakes, trusted the wrong people, but I am not mentally ill."

Sister Jude's lips curled into a cold smile. "Oh, dear child, denial is a common defense mechanism, especially prior to treatment. Many of our patients arrive here believing they are perfectly sane. But rest assured, our methods will help reveal the truth to you."

Carol's heart sank as she realized the magnitude of her situation. It seemed futile to argue further. She took a deep breath, trying to steel herself for whatever lay ahead. "What...what happens now?"

Sister Jude's expression softened slightly, her eyes showing only a mere glimmer of sympathy. "Now— Carol is it? —we begin your evaluation and treatment. We will uncover the depths of your perversion and help you to confront your demons. But fear not, for the ultimate goal is healing and redemption."

Carol scoffed, hardly audible, as she glanced back at the grand staircase. A sense of dread washed over her. She had been thrown into a labyrinth of darkness, surrounded by who knows how many haunted souls within Briarcliff's walls. Was she to become one of them and lose all her sense of self until her family saw fit that she was 'cured'? Not if she had anything to say about it.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

-> Chapter Two

Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon, @baubeautyandthegeek, @foxesandmagic, @carmens-garden, @fawera, @themaradaniels, @that-demigirl, @iloveocs, @bossyladies, @b1rvt4, @getawaycardotmp3

Carol Summers: @lilmonsterbxtch, @hallospaceboyy, @hermosoharry, @iticaboopsyou, @bowiesdaughter

[sepublic]

           What fucking breaks me is the dawning realization on Marcy’s face when she’s stabbed… The growing horror, that she’s going to die. That she’s dead. That her life is over, in the literal sense- She DIED. She was murdered, and it’s all gone and finished. She’s finished…

           …This is a hopeless CHILD realizing, without a doubt or any take-backs or what-ifs, that she’s dead and all she can do is sob and apologize in despair, realizing it was all for naught, that everything she did to survive in this world, to survive in her life, was for nothing- That she’s DEAD now. This is no longer a fantasy, this is no longer a game, this is REAL LIFE with stakes and perils and consequences, where people actually get hurt… And she was one of them.

           No more games. No more fun. No more friends, or getting to feel the thrill of a new hyperfixation or game, no more exploration or new things. No sun on her face as she chills besides her best friends who made life worthwhile. All the big and small things, all of them, no more of it. So much left to do, and she never got a chance... So much unfinished or never even started to begin with, it’s regret at what could and should have been, mourning that.

           Marcy died, and she died thinking she brought this on herself. That all she did was make her friends hate her even more, that all of her efforts just worsened it all, and she should’ve just shut and accepted the cold hard reality. How nihilistic, cold, fatalistic, and outright cruel is that, this type of realization, for a kid to realize, and for that to be the ONLY thing she’s thinking of as she lets the pain flow through her and just… Gives up.

           Because she lost it all. The only two things keeping her alive, her only two friends… Gone; She worked so hard to not be alone, yet here she is. If all that effort can’t change reality, then… Why keep on going at that point? Marcy’s sorry, she really is… But what more point is there to living, now? Why try to keep living against his clearly mortal wound- The last time she struggled against the cold reality of things, it led to all this. So for once… Marcy is going to do the ‘right’ thing, and just give up, resign herself into despair, and let it take over… Just passively be swallowed into the cold, black void, because she doesn’t matter, never did, and never will. It was all a lie and a delusion and she was just another… Stupid… child.

           Marcy was too far in her delusions and need for a fantasy as her only way to cope… And now she’s gone too far to the other end, and lost any and all hope entirely, her dreams are shattered. Any belief in agency, in initiative, in things changing for the better. Because why believe when you can’t even think… Because who can hope when they’re nothing but dead? She died apologizing for who she is, for her life, for her existence, because she really was meaningless and stupid and unloved in the end, unimportant and disposable, and now she gets to see how expandable she is through her own death.

           Marcy has to go through the unimaginably traumatic and cruel experience of not just dying, but realizing it. Feeling it. Processing it and realizing exactly what it means and all of the dread and despair that comes with that. The shock could’ve worn off and forced Marcy to feel the literal agony of a burning sword through her body- It hurts so much and that’s another reason why she gives up, not just the physical but emotional pain, because at least when she’s dead it’s over. This wasn’t a quick and instant death, this was slow and painful for her; It was not enough to die, she was made to relish in the experience of death.

           …She’s so scared. Marcy desperately wants to call out, to cry out, for someone to help- But she thinks that’s impossible and that they never would reply. No coping mechanism will work this time; This is real life, and now, death. She just wanted it to last longer and it was all so short and unfair and taken from her... She thought she had a whole future ahead of her, she WANTED and was owed it! This is a kid and they’re terrified because they’re dead and they don’t know what to do, and the worst part is that asking for help wouldn’t make a difference; Because NOBODY knows what to do in that situation. She’s still alone, and will be forever.

           ...But at least it’s over. It may ALL be over, the fun, but at least Marcy ensured that the pain was over, too. If she was still alive, that wouldn’t be the case. The end of things was what Marcy dreaded, but it seems it was the end that gave her final solace- She never considered how Death would at least end her pain, unlike staying with her parents, who would end only her happiness at that.

           Because why be happy if it’s all ruined in the end anyway? Why be happy, why start or continue, if it’ll end? Why not just... end? End it all and get it over with, don’t get hurt if you never began to begin with. Good god what pushed a CHILD to this mindset?! What we’ve seen already explains a lot, but the possibility that there was even more... To see a kid break like that, the entire process of her heart tearing apart, having to turn to Death, the only thing she can count on at the end, as it’s always been. You can see the exact moment on her face when the illusion of it all just being a game is permanently shattered, what last vestiges of hope are torn away.

[storiesforallfandoms]

survivor ~ captain jack sparrow;pirates of the caribbean

word count: 2090

request?: yes!

“Hello, I have an idea for a story with Jack Sparrow so I thought I'd request, one where Jack rescues the reader from a sunken ship at the ocean, where she was apparently the only survivor. At first, she's very reserved and cautious around him, but as they get to know each other and she's more comfortable with him, Jack sees himself falling hard for her, he has quite a lot of trouble dealing with/confessing his feelings but in the end, they get together. Thanks :D”

description: in which he saves the only survivor of a sunken ship and helps her to open up to his crew

pairing: jack sparrow x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, ptsd, and survivor’s guilt

masterlist (one, two)

The sight of the broken ship was haunting to the usually chipper crew of the Black Pearl. They had heard the explosion before seeing the wreckage, but hoped they were wrong in thinking it was a shipwreck.

Jack watched from the wheel, trying to keep a straight face as his eyes searched the water for signs of bodies. If they could save at least one person, just one, he would call it a victory.

“Call if you see anything,” he announced to his crew. “Anything we could salvage.”

But the further they travelled into the wreckage, the more evident it became that they weren’t going to find anything - or anyone.

Jack sighed, an ache in his heart for his fellow pirates who had likely died in the shipwreck. His eyes lingered on the water a moment longer before he started to turn away from the wreckage.

“Jack!” Elizabeth exclaimed as the boat began to turn. “There’s a girl in the water!”

They pulled the floating body out of the water. Her skin was stone cold and was nearly translucent it was so pale. Jack knelt down next to her and lowered his ear to her mouth. He couldn’t hear her breathing, and her chest wasn’t moving to signify there was any life left in her body. He started pushing on her chest, breathing into her mouth and nose between the pressing against her chest.

“She’s gone Jack,” Will said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s take her somewhere to gibe her a proper burial.”

Jack sighed. He didn’t want to give up, but there seemed like no hope in his attempts. As he sat back on his knees, the girl suddenly spit up whatever water was in her lungs and started coughing as she tried to catch her breath.

“Get her something to warm her, and some dry clothes!” Jack told two of his crew members. He regarded the panicking girl with a gentle touch, pulling her attention to him. She was breathing heavily, her eyes darting between the crew members in fear before they rested on Jack. “You’re alright, you’re safe now. We’ll take care of you.”

~~~~~~

Their new passenger, unsurprisingly, kept to herself for a while after she was saved. They kept her above deck for the rest of the day in order to make sure she was okay, but once the night came, Jack insisted she have her own space so she didn’t feel smothered with everyone else’s presence.

The first night was hard. She woke up screaming from nightmares of the crash, waking everyone else on the ship with her. She refused to talk to anyone who came to comfort her, and even physically pushed them away. After that, she was left alone by everyone.

Except for Jack.

Jack would visit her regularly to bring her food, clothes, and other supplies. He would ask her how she was, ask about her past and the ship she had been travelling on. His attempts were null as she never responded, but he didn’t stop trying.

Eventually, he did get her to speak her first sentence, “My name is (Y/N).”

The more he went to her, the more (Y/N) began to open up to him. It was a slow start, and even when he could get her to start talking she didn’t discuss much about herself, but soon enough she would be excitedly waiting for Jack’s daily visit, and eventually she even started to go to him to see him.

On one day, (Y/N) was waiting in Jack’s cabin for him to return from an adventure he had gone on. She was starting to look much better than the day she had been saved from the wreckage, and even before that. Jack and his crew hadn’t seen what she was before, but if they had they definitely would’ve been happy with her progress, no matter how slow it was.

She jumped when the door to Jack’s cabin opened violently and the captain stumbled in. His clothes were torn and he was bloody on his arms and his face. He was obviously hurt, but the way he sauntered over to his desk could’ve fooled anyone.

“What happened?” (Y/N) asked, standing from Jack’s bed to approach him.

“We walked right into their trap,” Jack responded, opening his desk and pulling a bottle of rum from it. “We weren’t ready for it.”

“Is everyone else...” (Y/N) trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

“We didn’t lose anyone,” Jack finished, knowing where she was going. “Just some injuries. They’re all being taken care of.”

He collapsed onto his chair, groaning as pain coursed through him. (Y/N) approached him and took the bottle from his hand. She retrieved the bandages from the bottom drawer in his desk and started to treat the wound on his face. Through the winces of pain, he smiled up at her.

“You know your way through my desk pretty well,” he teased.

When she smiled back at him, it was as if the entire room brightened. “I’ve watched you enough times to know where your medical supplies are, and to know that you do not know how to properly clean and dress a wound.”

“I try not to waste the rum.”

(Y/N) gave him a playful look before pouring some more of the rum over his wound. He winced and sucked in a painful breath as she dabbed the blood with a cloth before applying a bandage to it. She reached for his tattered shirt to take it off, but she hesitated a moment. Jack looked up at her, seeing that she was trying to avoid looking at him, and took off his shirt for her.

She began to clean the wounds on his chest, which luckily weren’t deep. Jack watched her as she worked, noticing a bit of strain in her face. He had seen that look many times before, usually on other pirates that had seen too much in their lifetime. He had seen it on his own father and uncle’s faces before both of them left him to his own devices.

“You’ve done this before,” he noted, although he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

(Y/N) looked up at him, her eyes wide like they had been when she was first saved. Jack regretted speaking and was about to take back his words when (Y/N) spoke.

“I was the medic on the ship you saved me from,” she said. “Whenever the crew members were hurt, I would help them.”

It was the first time she had told anyone anything about her past, especially about the ship she used to be a part of. She could feel a lump growing in her throat as she remembered the men that she had once considered a family that she would never see again.

“How long were you travelling with them?” Jack asked.

She was absentmindedly wiping his chest now, the blood already cleaned from his wounds. “Since I was a young girl. I was the daughter of their former captain. When he got too old, he resigned to life on land, but I wanted to keep travelling. I was never very strong, nor fast, so actually being a pirate was out of the question. I was eventually taught how to care for their wounds and for their sick so I could stay on board as a medic.”

As she took the bandages to wrap up Jack’s wounds, flashes of the many men she had patched up flashed before her eyes. The familiar faces and familiar smiles that she still dreamed of every night, that eventually turned to nightmares.

She looked away from Jack as tears started falling down her eyes. Jack reached up to wipe a tear with his thumb, cradling her face gently.

“They didn’t deserve to die,” she said, shaking her head. “They were good men. They weren’t violent pirates, they didn’t rob or kill anyone innocent. They took from bad people, they helped those in need. They were the most selfless men I had ever met.”

“What happened the day of the shipwreck?”

(Y/N)’s face twisted with grief as she remembered that fateful day. It was something that would always be in her memory, no matter how hard she tried to forget it.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We thought it was just us for miles. I was below deck when the first cannonball hit the boat. I came up to try and help the best I could, but the next one hit so close to us that we became dazed. The next one...”

She trailed off, wincing at the memory of the loud explosion. When it had hit the boat, she was thrown into the water. Her men were around her, struggling to get free from the remaining intact parts of the ship. There was another explosion and everything went black. (Y/N) was so sure she was dead. Part of her wished the explosion had killed her, too.

“Probably one of the bad people that was ticked off,” Jack said, his voice soft and gentle. His wounds were dressed, but he made no effort to move to put his shirt back on. “I’m sorry you had to experience that.”

“I still have dreams about them,” (Y/N) told him. “About my crew, and about that day. I sometimes with I were one of the ones who went down with them. I wish I could’ve saved someone else besides me, or that I had joined them.”

Jack stood so that he was at eye level with her. (Y/N) couldn’t look up at him, but he gently tilted her head back so that she was.

“I’m glad we were able to save you,” he told her. “Even if this is the first time I’ve come to learn something about you, having you on this ship has made everything so much brighter. Our little visits and small conversations have made me so happy. I understand that feeling of guilt when you lose part of your crew and you couldn’t do anything to save them, although I can’t imagine the level of pain you are going through right now. But I’m glad you’re here.”

His words made her truly happy for the first time in weeks.

They looked into each other’s eyes for a long time. Jack brushed (Y/N)’s hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. He left a tingly feeling on the parts of her face that he touched. (Y/N) had never felt that before, and it made her stomach fill with butterflies and her heart flip with excitement.

Before they could stop themselves, Jack leaned in for a kiss and (Y/N) met him half way. He placed one of his hands on the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair as he kissed her deeply. She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Her body pressed against his in a way that almost made him fall backwards into the chair again.

Jack finally pulled away first, gazing down into her eyes again. “Was that too much?”

(Y/N) giggled. “No. I really enjoyed it actually.”

“Me too,” Jack admitted. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“I would have thought a self proclaimed ladies man like you would’ve just taken the opportunity to kiss me long ago.”

Jack chuckled at this. “I may be a ladies man, but I am still respectful. You were grieving, I wasn’t going to take advantage of that.”

(Y/N) smiled at him. She pulled out of his embrace and passed him a shirt that was completely intact. “I appreciate all you have done for me, Jack. If you will have me, I would love to stay on the ship and be your medic.”

Jack smiled at her as he slipped the shirt on. “I was planning on asking you to stay regardless of what role you would play. Although, if you would like, I could also offer you a second role while you stay here.”

“And what role would that be?”

Jack kissed her lips again. “I wonder.”

(Y/N) was beaming as she looked up at him. “I would love to stay here with you Jack. I want nothing more than to travel the world with you, or to even be wherever you are.”

“Then it is decided,” he said. “You will stay with me forever.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Forever.”

[gleamglowsgraveyard]

Ask for a sirius request and you shall receive. I've been thinking about this idea for a while (and your writing is perfect for it ily) but how about a ravenclaw reader who is friends with james or remus and they introduce them? The one in my head was remus going to her dorm for a sleepover and bringing sirius and just being like "isn't she neat :)" and sirius immediately falling in love 🥺 no pressure if you dont vibe with it 🥰 ily bunches

i went to ravenclaw tower and all i got was this lousy stained shirt

pairing: sirius/reader

word count: 3.9k

summary: james and remus play matchmaker for you and sirius

content: ravenclaw!reader, fluff, it gets awkward (some of this was hard to write... 😭😭), dialogue heavy, you and sirius are very back-and-forth-y and witty (you’ll see what i mean), i know the title is long but i thought it was funny and i can do what i want

this was such a fun request!! i hope you don’t mind i took some liberties because i just immediately imagined remus and james secretly trying to match the two of you up for a while!! also i turned the sleepover into a party at ravenclaw tower!! (also also i came up with some cute ravenclaw girl ocs just for this, they were supposed to be minor but ended up having their own sideplots because i get carried away with everything. but they were fun to write! i gave them backstories and everything so if anyone wants to know more about them just ask :)

warning: mentions of alcohol!!

“You should meet Sirius.”

“Black?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you know another Sirius?”

You stick your tongue out at him and Remus smiles.

“What is it with Sirius, huh?” you tell him, adding a few drops of rain water into the potion before handing Remus the spoon to stir. He takes it and immediately gets to work.

“You and James,” you continue, idly counting Remus’s counterclockwise stirs in your head. “Not a day goes by where you don’t tell me I have to meet Sirius.”

In truth, you’d seen Sirius a few times. And he’d seen you, but neither one of you had actually spoken more than a few words to the other. Especially not since sixth year. Sirius had dropped Potions and Astronomy as quick as he could - the only two classes you’d had left with him. And seeing as you were in different Houses, bumping into each other in the common room was off the table as well.

But you had Potions with Remus and Astronomy with James, and whenever they could, they would always mention how you just had to meet Sirius. You sometimes wondered if Sirius was always being told he had to meet you.

“I just think you’d get along,” Remus shrugs, halting his stirring before you can even tell him to do so.

You both work in tandem for a bit after that, dropping ingredients into your potion and stirring when needed. You liked partnering up with Remus for this exact reason. You’d both fall into a comfortable silence and develop a good rhythm - you just flowed well together.

Once the potion is nearly finished, Remus speaks up.

“What about tonight? Isn’t there a party at Ravenclaw?”

“Robin says not to call it a party.”

“Well, that’s what it is.”

“Yeah, but we can’t call it that. At least not out loud,” you insist, not wanting your dorm mate’s wrath to come back later and haunt you. “It’s a quiet get-together,” you correct him.

Remus scoffs, knowing damn well that Ravenclaw parties are anything but. “That, then. You can meet him there.”

You raise an eyebrow in complete disbelief. “You’re gonna get Sirius Black to come to a Ravenclaw party?”

“What happened to quiet get-together?”

Damn it.

You quickly spare a glance at Robin, but she’s all the way across the room, scolding her partner for something he did to their potion.

“Good luck with that,” you continue, pretending to ignore his quip.

“We’ll convince him!” Remus assures you, as if it’s the least of his worries.

“Okayyy...” you sing, entirely unconvinced.

You’ve never seen Sirius Black at a non-Gryffindor party. He has way too much House pride to ever be caught partying in another common room. You’re almost positive you’ve seen him root for Gryffindor at Quidditch matches even when the team isn’t playing.

“Okay? So you’ll meet him?” Remus presses.

You laugh. “Okay! I guess!” you tell him, resigned. “But you and James have been hyping him up for a while, so don’t be surprised if he doesn’t live up to my expectations and I end up hating him.” You shrug a shoulder as you turn down the fire under the cauldron.

Remus just grins. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

.

.

.

Despite your nonchalant attitude with Remus earlier today, you actually find yourself feeling a bit nervous.

“Hey, do you guys know Sirius?” you ask over your shoulder as you straighten your outfit in the mirror. “Black?” you add quickly.

“Did you just ask us if we know Sirius Black?” A shrill voice cuts through the air and you know immediately that it’s Robin.

You groan, “I know, I know, everyone knows-”

“Everyone knows him,” Robin talks over you, and then sprays a copious amount of hairspray into her already voluminous blonde locks.

You move out of her way so she can use the mirror and she gratefully takes the opportunity, stepping in front of you to fluff up her roots.

“Yeah, how do you not know him?” Bea calls from the bathroom, where April is helping her into her dress.

“I mean, I know him,” you say, flopping down on your bed. “But I don’t actually know him. You know?”

“He was April’s first kiss!” Bea taunts. She makes several kissy noises and then you hear her say ‘ow!’

“You’ve got to stop bringing that up,” you hear April scold, “It was second year!”

Bea giggles and then skips out of the bathroom, April trailing closely behind.

Bea has on a stunning yellow sundress with long, belled sleeves - going all out, as usual. The color compliments her dark skin beautifully, but you know she’s really only wearing it to lure in that Hufflepuff boy she’s had her eye on.

April has still yet to get dressed, always waiting until the very last minute, but her straight black hair has been flawlessly curled - presumably Robin’s work.

“So what is it? Why do you wanna know about Black?” April asks politely, leaning against your bedpost as Bea sits on her trunk to slip on her shoes.

“James and Remus... They’re gonna get him to come here.”

Bea nearly drops her shoe, and Robin spins around to face you.

“Here?” The two say at the same time.

“Is he really?” April asks mildly, voice much gentler than the other two.

You shrug and nod your head at the same time, giving them an uncertain look. “I think so? Maybe? If they can convince him.”

There’s a beat of silence and then the hissing sound of Robin’s can of hairspray fills the air once more as she frantically tries to get her hair to cooperate. At the very same time, Bea starts to rummage around her wardrobe, muttering to herself about how ‘I think I have a red dress in here somewhere...’

It’s clear they’re both doubling their efforts, hoping to catch Sirius’s eye.

You laugh a bit and then turn to look at April, whose eyes are stuck on Robin’s reflection. She has a solemn expression on her face, but quickly snaps out of her trance when she notices you watching her.

“So,” she starts, putting on a small smile, “You’ve really never met Sirius Black?” she asks, sitting down beside you and crossing her legs beneath her.

“No, but I hear you have,” you tease, and she rolls her eyes.

“Yes, the first and only boy I’ve ever kissed.” She rolls her eyes.

You hear Robin fumble with her can of hairspray but think nothing of it.

April continues, “Anyway, that was second year,” she waves it off. “I do have muggle studies with him.”

“What’s he like?” you find yourself asking.

April shrugs a shoulder. “He’s nice, I suppose. Funny. Asks the professor a lot of questions about motorbikes.”

You tilt your head. “Motorbikes? Why?”

“Who knows. I think you two would get along, though.”

“Why’s that?”

April observes you for a few beats and then laughs a bit. You expect her to say something more but she just gives you a slight nudge with her elbow and then walks off, most likely to go get dressed.

Well that was pointless. You didn’t really learn anything useful. But then again, you’re not sure what you expected out of a conversation with April, who tends to keep her talking to a minimum (She claims it makes her more mysterious) (And she’s right, too).

Oh well. Perhaps you could find a way to strike up a casual conversation about motorbikes with Sirius.

Yeah, right.

.

.

.

It’s a few hours into the party when the door opens up, letting in James and Remus. Trailing behind them, looking unnecessarily wary, is Sirius Black. He traipses around as if at any moment something in the common room is going to jump out and bite him, and you struggle to stifle a laugh.

You quickly wander off before any of them can spot you, fleeing towards where the drinks are. You figure that when they find you, you may as well be doing something instead of just lamely standing around. So you pick up the ladle and start to refill your cup.

April had transfigured her cauldron into one made of glass, and Robin had used it to concoct her famous sickly sweet, lavender colored drink that she’d aptly named ‘Robin’s Brew’. It was made up of a mixture of muggle and wizard liquors, as well as a myriad of different fruit juices. The taste itself was actually semi disgusting, but you get used to it after the initial few sips.

You ladle some more of the drink into your cup and then spin on your heel, ready to resume the search for your friends.

That is, until you crash face first against a broad chest, effectively spilling ‘Robin’s Brew’ all over whoever you just bumped into.

“Oh my gosh!” you blurt out, setting the now empty cup down. “I am so sorry, I-” Your words catch in your throat when you finally look up to see the person’s face.

So much for a good first impression.

Sirius waves you off, looking down at his now purple stained white shirt. “Don’t worry ab-” he stops in the middle of the word as he raises his gaze to look at you.

His lips are still slightly parted as if his voice had simply escaped him mid-sentence, and his expression is stunned and mesmerized all at once.

“I, um...” he tries again, but it’s as if he’s been put in some kind of trance just by looking at you.

“Oh, great! You’ve met!” A cheery voice cuts through the tension, and you both turn your head to find James beaming at the two of you.

Trailing behind James is Remus, who takes in the state of the two of you and grimaces.

“Met?” Sirius voices as he looks at James, sounding a bit dazed.

“Yeah, remember? Y/N!” James reminds him. “She’s great, right?” he grins, and you cringe.

“Oh, this is...?” Sirius slowly turns his head to look at you again. “Hey...” he says faux-smoothly, as if attempting to salvage your very first meeting.

“Hey...” you say back a bit awkwardly. “Um... Look, there’s towels in my dorm, we can all go?” you suggest, looking to the others for approval.

“Why don’t you two go?” Remus proposes instead, and you shoot him an alarmed look.

“Yeah!” James nearly shouts, looking at Remus as if he’s a genius. “Yeah, you’ll find us later!” he’s quick to agree, and they both start to walk away.

You let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, I don’t know if-” you start, not sure if comfortable enough to be alone with a man you just met after spilling your drink on him.

But Remus and James don’t wanna hear it.

“Alright! See you later!” James throws a finger gun at you as he walks backwards and then spins on his heel.

“But I-”

“Bye!” Remus calls, and then they both disappear into a small crowd of people.

You turn to face Sirius, whose shirt is still dripping and who’s watching you with rapt intrigue. He turns away the moment your eyes meet, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Soon enough you’re leading Sirius down the corridor that leads to your dormitory, trying desperately to remember whether or not you’d tidied up your area of the room.

The door swings open just as you arrive at it, and from out of it come April and Robin who seem to be having a serious looking discussion. They quickly stop talking as soon as they spot the two of you, and April is quick to storm off, leaving Robin behind.

“Oh, you’ll want to get rid of that,” Robin says with a wince, gesturing at Sirius’s shirt. “The stain actually gets darker the more you try to get it off... So...”

You give a heavy sigh. “Yeah, thanks Robin.”

She shrugs apologetically with both hands in the air and then starts to walk off. “Robin’s Brew! Patent pending!” she calls over her shoulder as she scurries off to catch up with April.

“What’s up with them?” Sirius mutters under his breath as you lead him inside.

“Well, aren’t you nosy?” you’re quick to reply.

You say it as a joke, but immediately wish you could take it back. What were you thinking?! You didn’t know Sirius enough to joke around with him like that! You didn’t know him at all! Hell, you’d just spilled your drink all over him, for all you know the guy hates you!

You spin around, ready to apologize, but then Sirius is laughing, and you nearly let out a massive sigh of relief.

“Uh-” your apology catches in your throat for a moment but you quickly recover. “Sorry, I-”

“No, it’s okay.” He shakes his head. “You’re right, nosy is my middle name,” he tells you with a shrug and a lopsided grin.

You find yourself smiling back. “Sirius Nosy Black, huh?”

He hums. “Rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, definitely.”

It’s silent for a moment as you both look at each other. Your thoughts leave you a bit as you get distracted by that strange way that he’s looking at you, but then you remember with a jolt that Sirius Black is in your dorm, shirt stained lavender and dripping ‘Robin’s Brew’ onto the floor.

“Um!” You scramble towards the bathroom and yank a random towel off the rack. “Here,” You toss it and Sirius catches it with one hand.

“You can, um...” You trail off but then realize you’re still standing in the doorway, effectively blocking his entrance. “Oh!” You quickly move out of the way, leaving a clear path for Sirius.

“Thanks,” he says with a slight laugh before disappearing into the bathroom.

Once the door closes you’re left alone, idly shuffling around, not really knowing what to do now.

This was horrible. All of this was horrible. You’re alone in your dorm with a man you’ve just met - sure he’s friends with Remus and James, but that doesn’t mean it’s not awkward!

You have to focus. You have to avoid any more tense silences. What would you say when he got out of the bathroom?

You suppose he did laugh at your quip earlier - he’d even added a little joke of his own. You’d gone back and forth a bit. It was easy to converse once you’d gotten started. But getting started was exactly the issue... You needed a good topic. Why can’t you think of a good topic?!

The door to the bathroom opens up and out walks Sirius, leather jacket now slung over his forearm and white shirt drier, but still equally stained.

You panic.

“Hey, do you like motorbikes?” You blurt out, and then have to resist the urge to hurl yourself out the window.

Sirius’s eyes widen and he opens and closes his mouth a few times, looking like a stunned fish, before saying “Motorbikes?”

You purse your lips. “Yeah, I was...” You shrug, trying to play off your very strange, very targeted question as just casual conversation. “I was just wondering... I dunno...” you say, leaning against one of your bedposts.

Sirius breaks out into a smile. “I have a motorbike.”

“Really! No way!” you exclaim, pretending to be shocked. Although you didn’t really know Sirius owned a motorbike, it wasn’t all that surprising considering what April had told you just a few hours ago.

Sirius’s eyes narrow slightly, looking at you as if he’s trying very hard to figure you out. “Yeah... I’m fixing it up right now...” he tells you, still grinning.

“Oh? Is it broken?”

He tilts his head back and forth a few times and then says “Not exactly.”

You cross your arms. “Then why are you fixing it up?” you challenge.

Sirius just rolls his eyes. “Well I’d argue that anything that can’t fly can definitely be improved.”

That startles a laugh out of you. “You’re gonna get your motorbike to fly?”

“Laugh it up now!” Sirius nods as you bring a hand to your lips, stifling your giggles. “No one’ll be laughing once I finish my flying motorbike!”

“Oh, I’d love to see it in action.”

“Sure, I’ll take you on a ride once it’s done,” he tells you, voice genuine.

That shuts you up. All of a sudden you find that you have no witty response. Apparently out of all the things that could have rendered you silent, the prospect of going on a ride on Sirius Black’s flying motorbike seems to have done the trick.

Sirius notices.

“I mean- If you want.” he quickly says, raising a hand. “I mean- Sorry. I know we just met, and I made you spill your drink, and I think I stained your towel with whatever that drink was - sorry about that too - but I-”

“Hey,” you cut him off, giving him a pointed but lighthearted look.

He gazes back expectantly.

“I’d love to,” you assure him, and he grins.

You don’t even remember what you were so nervous about. This was easy. Talking to Sirius was so easy once you got into a rhythm.

So you did.

You talked for a while, and when you got tired of standing you laid down on your bed, face down, head resting in your hands and legs kicking behind you as Sirius sat cross legged on your trunk in front of you. You talked about possible spells and modifications for Sirius’s motorbike, you bonded about all the times James and Remus had tried to get the two of you together, you even just talked about whatever nonsense came to your heads.

You were still talking (now both sitting on your bed) when the door creaked open, letting in April and Robin. April was asleep and Robin was carrying her bridal style. You notice they’re both barefoot, but Robin only has April’s shoes in hand - hers were probably somewhere in the common room.

“Oh, hey,” you say in a hushed tone, not wanting to wake April.

“Hey,” Robin responds, though she’s not quite as cautious with her volume as you.

Earlier today you’d have thought Robin would’ve freaked out the moment she saw Sirius, but if she cares about him being in the dorm, she doesn’t show it.

“She fell asleep on the couch. Thought I should leave her here,” the blonde explains as she pads over to April’s bed. She drops the shoes on the ground and then pauses to look at you. “Do you mind?” she questions, nodding her head towards the bed.

You quickly get up, striding over to April’s bed and pulling back the blankets.

“Thanks,” Robin murmurs as she gently sets the raven haired girl down.

You pull the covers up again and April stirs a bit but doesn’t wake up.

Robin finally acknowledges Sirius. “Hi,” she waves with a smile. Sirius smiles back. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, it’s fine. We were just talking,” you assure her, and she nods a bit before turning her attention back to April, gazing down at her with a slight furrow to her brow.

“Where’s Bea?” you voice, curious.

“Went off with her Hufflepuff, I expect.”

“Mm. Is the party over?”

“Quiet get-together.” Robin corrects you without a second thought and you laugh lightly, sitting back down on your bed beside Sirius. “And yeah. I’m gonna go try to clean up a bit,” she says, sounding like the prefect she is.

You watch as Robin hesitates over April for a bit, smoothing the blankets over, brushing stray hairs from the sleeping girl’s face. It’s as if she wants to take care of her but isn’t sure how. In the end, she gives you a smile, bids a polite ‘goodbye’ to Sirius, and then exits quietly.

“We never went and found James and Remus,” you turn to look at Sirius once the door closes and he grins.

“I don’t think they ever expected us to.”

“You’re probably right.”

April stirs again and you get up to close the curtains of her four-poster.

“I should go help Robin,” you tell Sirius, and he takes the cue quickly standing up.

“Right. Sorry I kept you up.“

“No, it was fun. Sorry I spilled my drink on you.”

“No, it was fun,” Sirius echoes, and you give him a slight shove.

The two of you walk across the room and out of the door in comfortable silence, and once you’re in the corridor you speak up.

“So, hypothetically,” you start.

“Uh-huh,” Sirius assents immediately.

“If you wanted to... I don’t know... Have breakfast with me tomorrow...”

“Oh?”

“How would you go about that?”

“Hypothetically?” Sirius raises an eyebrow, as if double checking.

“Of course,” you nod.

“Well in this completely made up scenario,” he starts, “I’d probably meet you here at seven and walk you down to the Great Hall.”

You fight a smile. “Well, great.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Hypothetically I’d definitely be ready by then.”

“Perfect.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

You’ve reached the door that leads out of the common room by now, and you open it up, leaning against the frame. The rest of the castle is dark as it’s well past midnight, and you can hear the quiet sounds of nearby portraits snoring. You’d be worried about him getting caught, but with all the pranks the Marauders have pulled throughout the years, you know for a fact that Sirius Black had plenty of experience sneaking about the castle after curfew.

You watch as he lights his wand with a quick ‘Lumos’ and starts to walk off, but then he hesitates.

“What?” you voice as he turns around, walking back towards you.

He stops right in front of you, looking at you very intensely, scrutinizing every inch of your face. For a brief moment you expect him to lean in and kiss you, but then he speaks.

“I know you brought up motorbikes on purpose. That girl April takes muggle studies with me, and she-”

You quickly shut the door in his face and press your back against it, eyes wide and smiling despite yourself.

You scurry off to help Robin and a few others clean up, spirits high with the promise of having breakfast with Sirius tomorrow morning.

And who knows, maybe by tomorrow he’ll forget all about the motorbike thing. At least, you hope he does.

(He doesn’t.)

.

.

Bonus, the next morning:

“There they are!” James exclaims as you and Sirius approach the table.

“Did he live up to your expectations?” Remus asks you pointedly as you sit down, and you poke your tongue out at him in response.

And then you shrug. “I’ve gotta say, right off the bat I wasn’t impressed.”

“You’re the one who spilled your drink all over me. My poor new shirt! Ruined!”

“Oh, boo hoo. Where will you ever find another plain, white T-shirt?”

“It had sentimental value!”

“And now it has a cute new design! So you’re welcome.”

“You want me to thank you for a stain?”

“It’s a fun souvenir from your first time in a non Gryffindor common room.”

“I should write on it. Big letters: ‘I went to Ravenclaw Tower and all I got was this lousy stained shirt.’”

“At least the stain is purple, it looked nice. Suits you.”

“Are you saying I look good in purple?”

“Sure.”

“So you’re saying I look good?”

“I- I didn’t-” you stammer, and then groan.

“Ah-ha!” Sirius points a finger at you. “Outwitted by a Gryffindor! If only Rowena Ravenclaw could see you now.”

Across the table, Remus and James watch on in dismay.

“Are you already regretting getting them together or is it just me?” James voices.

In response Remus sighs, “Oh, it’s not just you.”

.

.

.

(hey ps for the sake of my sanity let’s just pretend there was no easy simple drying spell they could’ve used)

also: about robin & april

.

.

.

taglist <3 // @isxfisticated @l-adysansa @tomshollandz

[herinsectreflection]

Faith, Buffy, Dreams, and Secret Kisses

This is one of my favourite scenes in the series. Partially because it’s just my personal jam - I admit that I am Fuffy trash, and I have a real love for dream sequences. Buffy had great dream sequences, but this is where they take a step up. It’s a precursor to Restless in this regard and others. It feels weighty and meaningful, but also a little off and incongruent with itself, in that way that only dreams are. Lines are exchanged that don’t quite follow as direct responses to each other, clashing in interesting ways. It’s packed with foreshadowing, metaphor, and other juicy things. And beyond that, it’s a conclusion to Buffy’s entire arc this season about dealing with her shadow self, and it leads to what I think is the single most romantic moment in the series. I want to talk about this scene and unpack some of what I think it’s saying.

First of all, let’s talk about the setting. We’re in Faith’s apartment, bought for her by the Mayor. Essentially, the villain’s lair, where the two Big Bads plotted their evil plans against our hero. But it’s also a set where we saw most of the bonding and semi-familial love between Faith and the Mayor. A place of both evil and love. And for Buffy, a place of trauma. This is where she makes the decision and takes the action to kill another human. I don’t think she was unjustified in doing so, but it’s still an immensely traumatic act for her, and I think she loses a little part of herself when she does it. The location is very much a reflection of Faith, and Buffy’s relationship to her. I don’t think Buffy loves Faith romantically at this point, but I think she cares about her, and remains concerned about her, and I think it’s fair to call that a kind of love. Faith is also evil, a figure of betrayal but also temptation to the “dark side”. And she is also a figure of trauma, clear deep-seated trauma that she fails to resolve, and just gets worse over the course of the season. Buffy is essentially inside her own relationship to Faith, inside a stadium of sin, trauma, love, and shattered glass. Faith looks out of the broken window that they fought through, and we are reminded that their relationship too is broken, unrepaired, littered with the detritus of conflict. There’s no going back from this - even in dreams that window remains broken, and their relationship will always have this damage.

The props too are an interesting choice. TPN’s video on Graduation Day pointed out the painting of a giant snake with a man’s head on the wall. More conflicting feelings here - the Mayor is Faith’s closest connection to humanity and love right now, and also the reason for her betrayal of Buffy. Her redemption and damnation. We also see boxes of various things piled up - including the crossbow that Faith stole in Bad Girls. The image of packing up a room into boxes makes me think of moving away as a student. We must remember that Buffy is graduating today, on the verge of packing her life away and taking it somewhere else, and this reminds us of that.

The first thing of real substance we see is the cat, which jumps up on Faith’s bed. This is one of the aspects of this dream in direct conversation with Restless, where a cat symbolises the Slayer - a specifically feminine, solitary predator that stalks the night. In Restless, we cut to Miss Kitty stalking the camera from shots of the First slayer stalking Willow. Here though, the intercut images are between the cat and Faith, lying bruised and helpless in a hospital. The cat (and the Slayer) is, as far as Buffy is concerned, not a danger but a creature in need of help.

Buffy: "Who's going to look after him?" Faith: "It's a she. And aren't these things supposed to take care of themselves?"

They’re very clearly talking about their respective approaches to slaying, and to life in general. Buffy tries to encourage ties to humanity, telling Faith back in Revelations that she is on Faith’s side. Faith retorts that she alone is on her side, and she repeats that sentiment here. But Buffy is obviously proved right - Faith is lying almost dead because she rejected all help and care.

Buffy: "A higher power guiding us?" Faith: "I'm pretty sure that's not what I meant."

If the cat is the Slayer in this conversation, then the “higher power guiding us” could refer to the Watchers. It makes sense that Buffy delivers this line with a little wry smile, given that she’s just resigned herself from the Council. This allows a little bit of ambiguity in their debate - Buffy has taken on a little bit of Faith’s advice in emancipating herself and so making herself as the Slayer more self-reliant. The show agrees that that too is the right move. A little independence is good and healthy. What Faith means when she talks about “taking care of herself” is not self-reliance or independence, but emotional hardness and self-marooning to avoid hurt. This is something that Buffy will continue to struggle with for the rest of the series. Faith is kind of right when she states that the Slayer is alone and must take care of herself, and it’s up to Buffy to find a healthy way of dealing with that.

"Oh yeah. Miles to go - Little Miss Muffet counting down from 7-3-0.”

The scene shifts a little, and we get some foreshadowing for Dawn (Little Miss Muffet), and for Buffy’s death (730 days from now). This is done with the the lighting too, as Faith faces the camera, and the light of the dawn hits her face, in a shot extremely similar to the end of The Gift.

Interestingly, Faith is repeatedly used in this way. In This Year’s Girl, Faith talks about “little sis coming” as she and Buffy make the bed in her first dream. In Restless, that scene gets a callback (”Faith and I just made that bed”), in a scene that ends with the most anvilicious foreshadowing (”Be back before dawn”), as well as a callback to the 7-3-0 line (”Oh, that clock’s all wrong”). In Graduation Day, Faith refers to Buffy as being “dressed up in big sister’s clothes”, however to me Faith has always felt more as being the “little sister” in this relationship. She looks up to Buffy yet is also deeply jealous of her. She wants to be Buffy, to have her friends, her life, the love of her mother. She’s kind of a precursor to Dawn in this respect, so it makes sense that she’s a prophet for her coming.

Slayers having prophetic dreams is well-established, so it makes sense that a dream shared by two slayers would allow them to prophesise a little further ahead in time. Faith hints at this, remarking "Sorry, it's my head. A lot of new stuff.". You have to wonder what other “new stuff” Faith is becoming aware of. Perhaps a new perspective on everything Buffy’s been saying all season. Sharing a mind temporarily is often helpful in seeing another’s point of view. Faith does seem unusually thoughtful as she looks out of the broken window and remarks "They are never going to fix this, are they?".

This is perhaps my favourite line in the scene. It’s a slight mislead, as it comes right as we get a flash of the cat-as-Faith in the foreground. So we assume it’s a reference to her own injuries, which she is expected to never recover from.

But the Faith that’s talking isn’t looking at her own body. She’s looking at the broken window. The symbol for her broken relationship with Buffy. She has become us, the audience, looking at Buffy and Faith and saying “boy, those crazy kids really are never going to work it out, are they?”. It’s true for Faith, it’s true for Faith&Buffy, and it’s true for Buffy herself. When that knife entered Faith’s gut, all three were irrevocably changed forever. You can never put back the life you had before after it’s broken like that. All you can do is take what you can work with, and try to make something new.

Buffy: "What about you?" Faith: "Scar tissue. It fades. It all fades." Buffy confirms that the previous line was not about Faith specifically by asking “what about you”, in a lovely expression of concern. After everything, Buffy does still care about Faith. Faith’s reply of “scar tissue” is an obvious reference to the literal wound she is now carrying (emphasised by the shot of the knife that Buffy sees afterwards), but it’s interesting that she gestures to her face when she says this. It feels like a reference to her entire self. If we accept Faith as Buffy’s shadow self, then “scar tissue” is an accurate description of her. As Buffy herself says, Faith is who she could be if her life was worse (or, perhaps, who she would be if she allowed the tragedies of her life to rule her). She is the part of Buffy’s unconscious self that is revealed after receiving violence. She is the physical proof of trauma. The self that remains after pain. 

Buffy: “Is this your mind or mine?” Again, hitting that note of symbiosis; emphasising how inextricably tied these two characters are. The lines between their psyches are blurred to the point of no longer existing. This is such an intimate moment, almost sexual, with Buffy and Faith unable to tell where their own mind ends and another begins. Imagine the intimacy of that - entering another’s mental space and allowing them into yours, so wholly that they become one and the same. It becomes a mutual recognition of unity and shared pain, and an affirmation of the eternal divisions between them.

I love the ambiguity of the “human weakness” line too. One way we are invited to read it is that Faith is doing a heel-face turn, and intentionally giving Buffy the means to defeat the Mayor. But we’re not allowed anything that easy, to wash away Faith’s sins with a quick redemption before the climax. Faith has miles to go before she can achieve that. It’s just as likely that Faith is talking about herself, and the human weakness that led her down a dark path, or that Buffy is talking about Faith through the Faith in her head, or Buffy is just working it out on her own, etc, etc. This is the information that saves the world, and I like that it remains an unknown. A permanent “maybe”, just as Buffy and Faith’s relationship is. 

Buffy: "How are you going to fit all this stuff?" Faith: "Not gonna. It's yours." Buffy: "I can't use all of this!" Faith: "Just take what you need. You're ready?"

As the scene reaches its climax, we see the most obvious recitation of the season’s themes. S3 is about Buffy coming into conflict with her own shadow self, and here the show tells us how she does that - by taking what she needs. I mentioned earlier that we saw the crossbow from Bad Girls, from the “want/take/have” scene. Here, Faith is telling her the same thing, but in a more healthy way. She cannot just hedonistically consume everything like a crazed id-monster, but she also cannot deny herself things that she needs. 

Most importantly, the “stuff” they are referring to is Faith’s, but as Faith says, it’s also Buffy’s. Everything that Faith is, Buffy is too, because she is her shadow self. Buffy must recognise this, accept it, and incorporate the shadow self into her own identity. She cannot be consumed by the shadow self and simply become Faith, allowing her shadow to consume her conscious personality (”how are you going to fit all this stuff?”). Instead she must recognise her dark mirror, and take the healthy parts, and integrate them into herself as an individual (”take what you need”).

It is at this point of healing and merging between Buffy’s self and shadow self that Faith reaches out, almost touches her in an action that feels so tender, and Buffy becomes conscious. She literally becomes her conscious self by making peace with her dream (unconscious self). She stands up, and walks over to Faith’s bed. This is the moment that their relationship all season has been leading to. She leans over, and places a kiss on her forehead.

This kiss is everything. It’s an act of thanks, as Buffy realises Faith may have given her what she needs to save the day (at the cost of Faith’s one familial figure). It is an act of service, as Buffy literally gives Faith the kiss she asked for when they started to fight in Graduation Day. It could also be an act of forgiveness. We know from I Only Have Eyes For You that forgiveness, Buffy learns, is done not because somebody deserves it, but because they need it. Faith at this point probably does not deserve it, does not want forgiveness (she wants to be punished), nor can she recognise it in her current state, but Buffy gives it anyway, adding another layer of heartbreak. It is given not for any purpose, but for its own sake.

Above all though, this is an act of recognition. We must consider the previous forehead-kiss that these two shared, back in Enemies, and Faith’s words directly before: “What are you gonna do, B, kill me? You become me. You're not ready for that, yet.” And in Graduation Day, just after Buffy stabs her: “You did it. You killed me.” And her words in the dream, just a few seconds ago: “You're ready?"

Now I don’t think that Buffy stabbing Faith to save Angel is morally equivalent to Faith voluntarily killing people to help an evil guy become a big snake. I don’t think the show wants us to think that either. But the line is firmly blurred. Angel says in Consequences that the act of taking a life will change Faith irrevocably, and Faith agrees. She sees herself as tainted from that point on, and if Buffy took her life, she would be tainted too. And though it’s understandable and morally defensible, there’s no doubt that a part of Buffy - her innocence - dies on that balcony when she sticks that knife in. That act is forever. The choice to do violence is permanent. 

So when Faith says “you killed me”, she is saying “you have become me”. She identifies a common nature in them. And when Buffy kisses her, returning it in the exact same way as when Faith first said those words, she is saying “I know”. She recognises and responds to Faith’s mirror by holding up one of her own. She matches similarity with similarity. She is finally “ready” to assimilate her shadow self, and does it by telling her shadow self that she sees her, and that she was right. 

The beautiful part of all this is that it is silent. Faith would’ve been aware of their unification in the dreamscape, since it was happening in both of their heads, but she has no way of knowing about this. I wonder if Buffy would ever tell her. I doubt it. This is the core of the Faith/Buffy tragedy. This is why I find this relationship so compelling. Buffy performs this act of recognition and devotion entirely in secret. It is a stolen kiss and a private confession. A whisper made to a sleeping lover. A letter written, sealed, stamped, and set on fire. It is an act of love and tenderness made entirely for its own sake, without witness or reward. 

This is the single most romantic moment of the show for me. In this show that in many ways about how when nothing you do matters, all that matters is what you do, what could be more romantic than this gentle kiss that changes nothing against this aching hole of violence and betrayal between them, but exists anyway, just because Buffy felt it needed to be done. It’s a silent moment that nobody but Buffy and us are privy to. Neither Faith nor the rest of the world will ever know it happened, but I know I for one will never forget.

[riversofmars]

Interrupting my usual broadcast of DW fic to bring you another British gay mess: Please enjoy my first attempt at Caroline/Gillian! And as if I haven't got enough WIPs on, this is gonna be four parts, as it turns out! I don't know why I'm like this :D Anyway here we are due to popular demand!

Gillian takes Caroline up on her offer of moving in together and pooling their resources. A month has gone by and Caroline is surprised at how easy and comfortable life on the farm has become. The arrangement works for both of them: Gillian's financial struggles are a thing of the past and while it isn’t exactly the traditional family set-up Caroline would have wanted, Gillian turned out to be exactly what she needed in a partner to help raise her daughter. Adding romance to the otherwise perfect set-up is a pipe-dream on the headteacher's part, but the more time she spends with the sheep farmer, the more drawn she is to her. Rating: M (language & sexual themes)

Home Is Not A Place - Part 1: The Dinner

“For goodness sake,“ Caroline groaned, as she stepped out of her SUV and right into a puddle. Resigned to her changed situation, she decided from now on she would have to switch shoes after work, from her favourite heels, to a lesser loved pair. There was no two ways about it. But at least then there would be absolutely no danger of ruining a two-hundred pound pair of Jimmy Choos, upon her arrival at Greenwood farm. Of course she wouldn’t mention this to Gillian, God no, otherwise her Christmas present to her might end up a new pair of wellingtons.

In the open court yard of the farm, the wind was biting cold and encouraged the headteacher to hurry up the stairs to the relative safety and comfort of the house. Caroline cursed under her breath as the wind wreaked havoc with her hair, and the cold crept up her legs, underneath her woefully-inappropriate-for-farm-life pencil skirt. The British weather was really giving its all this year to live up to its reputation. Well in the grip of Winter already, it only took Caroline to stay late at work by an hour - like today - and night had already fallen. Preparations for this year’s Nativity were gathering steam and - being the hands-on headmistress she was - there was no way Caroline would allow the theatre department to shoulder the burden all on their own. Working late would usually have required a lot of planning for a single parent such as herself, but things had gotten a lot easier, recently.

“Hiya Caz,“ Gillian called from the lounge, when Caroline closed the front door of the farm house behind her and smiled at the chipper greeting.

“Hiya!“ She called back and pushed her soaked shoes into a corner. With any luck, Gillian wouldn’t spot them and she could deal with them later. The sheep farmer would only get suspicious if she lingered in the hallway for too long. “Evening,“ Caroline smiled as she stepped into the living room. Flora and Calamity were sitting on the sofa in front of the tv, dressed in pyjamas. She walked over to them, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s head and then, for good measure, repeated the gesture on Calamity. The girls were the closest of friends and since Caroline and Flora had moved in at the farm, they had become closer still - almost like real siblings - and Caroline had found herself treating them as such with increasing frequency.

“Wet out, is it?“ Gillian smirked, observing Caroline’s dishevelled head of hair, drawing her attention. The sheep farmer was leaning against the kitchen counter, mug in hand, assessing her over the rim of it.

“What’s this?“ Caroline raised her eyebrows, as she spotted two - and only two! - places set at the kitchen table, complete with wine glasses.

“Girls have eaten. Just having a bit of telly before bed,“ Gillian explained, nodding towards the pre-schoolers that were engrossed in their cartoons. “Lasagne is in oven, thought you might be hungry, with your long day n’all.“

“You made lasagne?“ Caroline asked, though it sounded more bewildered than she had intended. It wasn’t uncommon that Gillian would cook for all of them. She was the one at home, her work was here, it made sense. Caroline was a woman of science, of hard facts, so she liked things to make sense. But for some reason, coming home to Gillian Greenwood - who had cooked for her and looked after her daughter - was still something of curiosity, despite empirical evidence to the contrary. Caroline was still not quite used to it, no matter how much sense it made.

Caroline had managed to convince Gillian of the sense behind them pooling their resources not long after she had floated the idea for the first time. Her and Flora moved in at the farm a month ago, and much to everyone’s surprise - and her mother’s dismay - it worked surprisingly well. This was not the first time she had come home to a cooked meal, it was becoming a regular occurrence, so Caroline was at a loss as to why this time, it felt different. Perhaps it was the absence of Raff and Ellie who - as Caroline now remembered - had been invited to Ellie’s mother’s to parade around the little one. Perhaps it was because there were only two places set at the table. Or perhaps it was the warmth of Gillian’s chuckled as she replied:

“Well, had to make something.“

“You really didn’t have to, I don’t… expect to come home to a home cooked meal every day,“ Caroline felt obliged to state, just for the record, though she knew that Gillian would do whatever the bloody hell she wanted anyway. It wasn’t like Caroline - or anyone else for that matter - had any bearing on what this infuriatingly independent and bull-headed woman did or didn’t do.

“Nice though, innit,“ the sheep farmer shot back with surprising enthusiasm. “Guess that was part of the deal. Least I can do, mind the kids and cook you some tea.“ She gave a shrug like it was nothing; when to Caroline, it was a huge deal. This wasn’t something she would have admitted to, of course; just as she wouldn’t have admitted that there was something very appealing about coming home to Gillian.

“I’m not expecting you to pretend to be my stay-at-home housewife or something, Gillian,“ Caroline tried to brush it off with a joke.

“You better not. Cause that’s not me,“ Gillian retorted with good-natured humour, and it struck Caroline that she was a far cry from the tense, short-fused woman she’d met seven years ago. It was moments such as these, that the headteacher realised how much she had changed. Healing would be too strong a word for it; Caroline couldn’t imagine how anyone could possibly heal from what Gillian had been through, but she seemed to be doing, better. She seemed more comfortable in her own skin, and more comfortable with her life. Secretly, Caroline hoped she had contributed to her wellbeing in some small way; even if it was just by giving her the security that she wouldn’t have to give up the farm.

“Don’t I know it,“ Caroline chuckled. “Wine, too, is it?“ She picked up the bottle on the table and checked the label. It was one of her favourites and for a moment, she wasn’t sure whether Gillian had remembered, or if they’d still had that bottle lying round somewhere. “Is there a special occasion? One month since we moved in?“ It wasn’t like she had been counting…well, she had. But only to be able to lord it over her mother about how long they had managed to stay under the same roof, without tearing each other’s heads off…or each other’s clothes…she added as an after thought. But only for her own amusement, not for public consumption.

“I guess I just…wanted to say thank you…for agreeing to this,“ Gillian huffed, suddenly appearing self-conscious, as if she wondered whether she had made a mistake. Caroline felt guilty immediately. For someone with self-esteem as fragile as Gillian, doubts came quickly, and cut deep.

“It was my idea! It’s to both of our advantage. I couldn’t have carried on the way it was, particularly now that our parents aren’t…able…to help as much as before…“ Caroline was quick to assure her. It had made a lot of sense, and she was glad she had managed to persuade Gillian of the proposal’s merit. Even once their parents had volunteered the money to pay for the work on the roof, it didn’t change the fact that Gillian was barely breaking even financially. Certainly not with the sheep that had escaped a few months ago, and once Raff and Ellie moved out - which was only a matter of time - they wouldn’t be contributing anymore, either. Gillian needed someone with her, and Caroline was more than happy to be that person, for numerous reasons. Some of them she cared to discuss, like the practicalities of it, some she would keep to herself, thank you very much.

“Just wanted to say, I do appreciate it, Caz,“ Gillian interrupted and held her hands up, as if she just had to get that out there - and would shut up now that it was said. “And I hope you’re not gonna regret it.“

“Gillian, we’ve known each other seven years now,“ Caroline couldn’t help but point out, as she set the bottle of wine back down on the table. “Yes, we’ve had our ups and downs, but all things considered, I think we’re about as steady as our parents, don’t you think?“ She gave her a soft smile. They really had come an incredibly far way since they first laid eyes on each other. To this day, Caroline was still embarrassed about her behaviour on the day they’s met, and was beyond relieved that with time, Gillian had come to see the funny side of the whole thing.

“Suppose so. Just without the sex,“ Gillian snickered and took a sip of her tea, hiding her grin in her mug as she seemed to relax again.

“I don’t want to think about our parents having sex, thank you very much!“ Caroline exclaimed, mortified, and quickly turned to check the girls hadn’t accidentally overheard. To her relief, she found them still very much engrossed in their tv show.

“God no. I don’t know if they still can, I mean, at their age…“ Gillian huffed, matter-of-factly. “And with his heart too, better mind his blood pressure hadn’t he… Mind you, probably wouldn’t be worst way t’go. Right in throes of…“

“Yes, right. That’s it, change of subject please!“ Caroline shook her head vehemently and Gillian laughed.

“Go and get changed, didn’t mean to ambush you, it’ll keep.“ She gestured to the oven. “I’ll get little ones in bed.“

“If you’re sure.“ Caroline glanced at the clock. She hadn’t realised how late it was. “How about bath time?“

“All this fun stuff you miss out on when you work late. It’s done and dusted. Go on. You don’t wanna be throwing lasagne down that fancy blouse o’ yours,“ Gillian observed, nodding towards her cream blouse.

“Right.“ Caroline gave a soft smile and watched the sheep farmer gulp down the rest of her tea, before sitting it down in the sink.

“You want me to make you a cuppa first?“ Gillian asked, seemingly confused as to why Caroline hadn’t taken her up on the offer yet, instead lingering in the kitchen.

“No, no, it’s fine, I’ll have wine if that’s going,“ Caroline answered quickly, snapping out of her moment of marvelling at how bloody perfect life was right about now to retrieve the corkscrew.

“Well, you know where everything is by now, don’t you. It’s your home too,“ Gillian observed, with an ease that astounded Caroline, that Gillian didn’t seem to think anything of. She just headed to the sofa where she put an arm around each of the girls from behind. “Right you two monsters, show’s over, off to bed wi’ you,“ she announced, leaving Caroline to forget all about the wine. She just watched the display of perfect family life in awe.

——

“Is it bad that I’m sort of looking forward to Raff and Ellie moving out?“ Caroline mused, watching Gillian’s reaction over the rim of her wine glass. “With the baby and everything, the walls aren’t exactly thick.“

“You knew that before moving in,“ Gillian pointed out. She wasn’t unkind about it, she was amused if nothing else.

“Yes, and I’m not complaining. I just didn’t think I’d be doing this still, at gone fifty, I mean…I’m just glad Flora is through the worst of it now.“ Even now, there were still times where Caroline wondered whether she was too old for all this. She had two grown up sons, starting again with Flora and doing it all on her own had been tough. Thankfully, finally, she wasn’t alone anymore. It wasn’t exactly the traditional family set-up she would have longed for, but she knew Gillian would be everything Flora needed in a second parent. She could also be everything Caroline needed in a partner, but that was just wishful thinking on the headteacher’s part. She would content herself with the way things were, as it was shaping up to be everything she wanted, just sadly minus the romance.

“Nowt saying William or Lawrence couldn’t have started early,“ Gillian retorted and Caroline laughed:

“William? Please!“ They were on their third glass of red and Caroline was feeling warm and relaxed. Her reactions had lost the restraint and reservedness she usually maintained with people, even the ones closest to her. “And Lawrence needs to seriously work out whatever he is doing with his life. And with Angus!“ She had often wondered about his relationship with his best friend. At this point, things could go either way.

“Fair. Not much of a chance of getting knocked up there,“ Gillian chuckled.

“Raff’s done alright though, hasn’t he. Becoming a dad so young and still seeing through his education and getting a good job at the end of it, it’s quite the accomplishment,“ Caroline smiled and delighted in the way Gillian’s face brightened with pride.

“He’s a good boy, our Raff,“ she commented, and Caroline was determined to push the matter over the finish line:

“That’s a credit to you. He couldn’t have done it without your support,“ she added kindly, as she put her cutlery down. Dinner had been a delight, but then by this point, Gillian could have probably fed her anything and she would have thanked her with a dreamy eyed smile. Caroline felt the warmth radiating from her cheeks; a combination of wine, the fire going in the adjoining room, and her own conflicted feelings towards her step sister. For the sake of her own sanity, she refused to refer to her as that whenever possible, particularly in her own head.

“More like in spite of me,“ Gillian huffed, her mood swinging like a pendulum. She had been much more steady in recent years, but that wasn’t to say she was free of the crippling self-doubt that always chose the most inopportune moments to rear its ugly head. “Never would’ve happened wi’ someone else. Not like your boys went and knocked up their girlfriend, is it.“

“Don’t be ridiculous,“ Caroline cut in quickly, but Gillian just downed the rest of her wine and carried on:

“You know it’s true, ‘as bad as his mother’ is what they were saying, and if they weren’t, they were thinking it.“ She gave a bitter laugh that stood in stark contrast to the carefree atmosphere they had enjoyed.

“You have many flaws, Gillian, it’s part of your charm, but being a bad mother? That’s certainly not one of them.“ Caroline was quick and decisive, in intervening. There had been times where she had been quite happy to shoot a snide comment her way herself, but not anymore.

“Hm.“ Gillian’s response was minimal, which indicated to Caroline that she hadn’t listened or taken in what she’d said.

“It’s not!“ She insisted firmly.

“Alright!“ Gillian exclaimed, exasperated.

“Do you think I’d have come here, to live with you, having you help look after my daughter, if I didn’t think you were a good mother and a good person?“ Caroline leaned forward onto her elbows, regarding the farmer with a stern look that she had perfected in many years of teaching.

“’suppose not.“ Gillian folded, just as one of Caroline’s six-formers would have done.

“Well then.“ The headteacher straightened herself up again and proceeded to divide the rest of the bottle in between their two glasses.

“Their faces. When you told them.“ Gillian suddenly burst out laughing and Caroline grinned, recalling the conversation in vivid detail. The pendulum that was Gillian’s emotional well-being, had swung back around.

“Of all the stupid, stupid videos Lawrence has done… that would have been the moment to capture,“ she shook her head to herself, remembering how comical and surreal the whole thing had been.

“It was your Mum more than me Dad, that face she pulled!“ Gillian couldn’t stop laughing; it was infectious and prompted Caroline to launch into a scarily accurate imitation of her mother:

“Caroline, you can’t really be considering moving to a farm, and HER farm of all places. Is that any way for Flora to grow up? What if she…catches something or…“ Caroline could hardly breathe for laughing. “Honestly Mum, what is she gonna catch? Fresh air?“

“Touch of the common farmer, more like,“ Gillian grimaced, but she didn’t seem to care, not really.

“Like she’s never stayed here herself.“ Caroline rolled her eyes at the hypocrisy.

“I think she was more concerned with me, than the farm,“ Gillian pointed out, taking a deep breath to calm herself down - but her face continued cracking up and gave her away.

“Well obviously.“ Caroline just waved it off. They were both used to her mother’s strong opinions, and readily chose to ignore them.

“What will you be doing with Gillian around all the time?“ Gillian tried herself at Celia’s accent which caused Caroline to launch into another laughing fit.

“I don’t know, Mum, maybe we will have a wild sapphic love affair,“ she reprised her witty response with tears of laughter in her eyes.

“You nearly gave her a heart attack an’all,“ Gillian snickered.

“Well, it’s none of her business.“ Caroline took a deep breath, regaining some small measure of self control. “And really, she only has herself to blame. If she hadn’t been on at your Dad about lending you that money, and then telling me they wouldn’t be picking up Flora anymore, none of this would have happened.“

“So really, we should be thanking her, shouldn’t we.“ Gillian grinned after brief contemplation. “To your mother.“ She raised her glass and Caroline toasted her:

“I’ll drink to that.“

The evening wore on, and just as they contemplated opening a third bottle, Raff and Ellie returned with the baby, who was sleeping soundly in his car seat. Thank God for small favours, Caroline thought. They had cleared up from dinner and were lounging on the sofa with the telly on.

“Mum. Caz. Alright?“ Raff greeted them.

“Had a good evening?“ Gillian asked, looking around.

“Yeah great thanks,“ Ellie smiled in response and made her way up the stairs with the little one.

“You watching University Challenge, Mum?“ Raff asked, bemused, as he noticed the program they were watching.

“Through no fault of my own!“ Gillian was quick to point out. She shot Caroline a look who was sitting to the other end of the sofa.

Caroline considered it a safe distance, but not as safe as the other sofa would have been. It was one small thing she allowed herself. It was innocent enough, and Gillian didn’t seem to think twice when their legs intertwined on the two-seater.

The sheep farmer carried on explaining their television agreement to her son: “We compromise, see, she gets to watch something she wants and then I get to watch something I want.“

“Trust her to chose the most obnoxious thing she can possibly find, just to wind me up,“ Caroline interjected but without averting her eyes from the screen. She mumbled the answer to yet another obscure question under her breath.

“Sounds about right,“ Raff chuckled and Gillian leaned over the back of the sofa to slap her son’s arm.

“Remember, it’s a school night,“ she pointed her finger at him.

“Bit rich coming from you.“ He eyed their empty wine glasses. “I feel like the alcohol consume in this house has sky rocketed in the past month.“

“Yeah, well, got to knock ourselves out somehow between the baby crying and you two going at it,“ Gillian quipped, and returned her attention to the television as well.

“You’re just jealous cause you haven’t go a fella right now,“ Raff teased.

“Yeah well, I’m over that for the time being,“ Gillian gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Think you’ve finally gone through all the eligible bachelors in West Yorkshire?“ Caroline saw an opportunity to jump in and tried her best to keep the smallest twang of jealousy from her voice.

“And some of the ineligible ones too,“ Raff added, with a smirk.

“OI!“ Gillian exclaimed, shooting him a glare and kicked Caroline’s leg for siding with him.

“I’d better see if Ellie needs some help…“ Raff was quick to make his escape.

“Yeah, you’d better,“ his mother shouted after him.

“I have to say, you have come a long way since we met. From having three blokes you’re shagging staying over in this place,“ Caroline couldn’t help but comment, recalling the fateful night their parents had gone missing and they had stayed at the farm with Gillian’s three merry men - Paul, John and Robbie - all crammed onto these sofas.

“Bet you wouldn’t have come to stay then, would’ya,“ Gillian hummed, her voice surprisingly neutral.

“Could have joined that exclusive club,“ Caroline smirked, the alcohol loosening her tongue enough to make a joke, one too close to the truth for comfort. She forced herself not to think about what else she could be doing with her tongue right about now.

“Caz!“ Gillian exclaimed, and the headteacher couldn’t quite tell whether she was offended, self-conscious or flattered.

“It really is easy to tease you,“ Caroline back-peddled to safer waters.

“Yeah well, you’re living with Yorkshire’s greatest slapper so jokes on you,“ Gillian huffed. “Watch your f-bloody University Challenge.“

“Hm, yes, what will people think,“ Caroline chuckled and did as she was told.

[starlightshadowsworld]

The Apology Scene redone (V8 C11) Part 1

(Finally reworking this WIP)

(*listens to Oz apologise and waits for RWBY+JNR to apologise back.... Waits*... You know what, fine I'll do if myself! Here's the apology...Orrrr everyone bonds, cries and Ozpin has another story to tell. 

Because I wanted this scene to be so much more than it was and hey its Oz and if the OPPS sever has taught me anything... There can always be more angst with Oz. I did try to make this as in character as I could.)

Ruby rose her head from Yang’s shoulder as the group walked in. Weiss and Blake sat beside the sisters, silently comforting the two making them smile a little. Ruby faced Oscar who was hanging back beside Jaune and Emerald, steadying herself. “Hey Oscar, is it okay if we speak to him?” Oscar blinked in surprise, pausing for a few seconds with concern flashing on his face before nodding slowly. Ruby frowned, she was tempted to ask what Ozpin has said but knew it was best not to ask. 

Something she wished hadn’t taken her so long to learn.

Oscar met Ruby’s gaze, he tried for a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. How could he, not when Oscar could feel him. The fear that pulsed within him like a second heart, the only upside was it was no longer shut behind a door leaving him empty. ‘Oz...you don’t have to do this. I can just tell them what you want to say.” Reaching out for the others presence and being unable to stop the wave of relief when Ozpin reached back. ‘I appreciate the thought Oscar, but I cannot hide forever. This is something we must face together, that’s what you taught me.’ Oscar grumbled about annoying old wizards using his words against him and felt the others amusement run through him. 

Even if both were tense. 

“Hey guys...please don’t start fighting. Not just because I’m healing just...talk, okay.” Oscar did feel bad when he saw everyone’s mood dip, but not enough that make him apologise. They had deeply hurt Ozpin, done what thousands of years under Salem’s abuse had failed to do. He had grown incredibly fond of Ozpin’s company, and feeling him shut off from the world had left him pained. That did not erase the guilt Oscar himself had felt for giving them the tools to do it, only serving as further determination to help him heal. 

Yang nodded seriously “"no ones going to fight” she agreed. Oscar nodded, taking a deep breathe and gave the group one more look, a silent beg to please don’t mess this up before getting up. He walked to the chair Jaune had bought in, taking a seat as his eyes shone gold.

There was a silence, as they all looked for the right words to say before Ruby simply addressed him, “Hi, Professor Ozpin” she said. Just saying his name was enough to bring everyone back to the present, she hadn’t intended to call him professor. It wasn’t something she had done since he left...but it felt right. 

Ozpin met her gaze, if he was surprised to hear that title he didn’t say it. A smile, ever so small it was almost shy bloomed on his face “Hello, Miss Rose.” He turned his head, meeting team RWBY’s gaze in turn. “Miss Schnee, Miss Belladonna, Miss Xiao Long.” Weiss smiled softly, her hands clasped together “professor Ozpin” she echoed Ruby’s words finding that they came to her easily. Blake did the same, one of her ears twitched as she greeted him. Yang found that she couldn’t meet his gaze, nor speak but nodded in acknowledgement.

“Mr Arc, Miss Valkyrie, Mr Ren.” Greeted Ozpin, turning his gaze from Yang to JNR who were sat nearby. Jaune, much like Yang struggled to meet Ozpin’s gaze but managed a quiet “hey, Professor Ozpin”, Nora smiled and waved while Ren gave a distracted wave.

He’d seen purple petals floating around Emerald, her guilt for her previous actions, around Ozpin was a storm. That combined with the swirl of amber, fear around him gave Ren a sinking feeling. 

None of the others could see the petals of course, and Ozpin’s voice gave nothing away. But while he looked up to address them he was hunched over with his ever-present cane in his hands and not on his belt. And unlike the feather light touch he’d previously wielded it with, now it was held it in a vice grip. It was almost as if...

'Does he... Think we're going to attack?' Wondered Ruby, guilt blooming in her heart. She wanted to believe otherwise, but there last meeting had ended so terribly that she shouldn’t have been surprised. Ozpin, oblivious to the groups collective guilt greeted Emerald who nodded politely and Penny who shyly waved and was overjoyed when Ozpin smiled softly and waved back at her. 

Those two were completely at ease, Yang envied them a little. 

"I was recently reminded of an old fairy tale” said Ozpin, lowering his head as he did so. And even just hearing that familiar phrase, made everyone feel a certain warmth. That despite it all, this was still Ozpin “A young girl flees the consequences of a choice to a magical place... But having never learned from her initial failure, she only succeeds in spreading it..." No one needed to ask who that girl was. "I failed you all.” The words echoed throughout the manor, resigned and raw. “I hid, I lied.  I left you to deal with everything you weren’t ready for when you were scared and confused... And so much more."

There had always been a weight to Ozpin’s words, they group realised that from the moment they’d met him. Everything was said with an underlying meaning or message. But here...they knew at once that these words weren’t meant for just them. Yang thought of a photograph, of anger and feathers flying into the breeze. 

“It’s not your fault” began Ruby, pausing at his disbelieving gaze and instead followed with “we failed you too. We kept telling you to trust us, kept pushing you around and than...I’m sorry.”  The wizard before her shook his head, “you have nothing to be sorry about Miss Rose, you were all confused and afraid. You were left to navigate this war, a war I drew you into...you wanted answers I would not give, you did the right thing.” Said Ozpin, Ruby shook her head ready to continue... but someone beat her to the punch. 

“We did the right thing....” Said Yang, her voice barely above a whisper but the rage was almost tangible. Although she did try to keep herself calm, her eyes remaining there bright lavender. “I won’t say you didn’t lie to us...but exposing someone's trauma and kicking an already downed man after saying you wouldn’t...threating you and Uncle Qrow for the truth...none of that is right.”

That was not what Ozpin had been expecting. Especially not from her, she who he had expected anger, red eyes that reminded him tearfully of others and words to cut his heart the way so many had. It took him completely by surprise, Yang ignored the sinking feeling as she caught on. 

“You were angry, confused what other choice did you have? I would not have divulged such information so easily and how were you to know that’s what Jinn would show you?” Said Ozpin, he truly did not understand this. “That doesn’t make how we treated you afterwards any better, I mean seriously, what’s the difference between us and her.” 

That made Ozpin stop, wide eyed that they would even compare themselves to Salem. His demeanour hardened “You acted out of fear, not out of outright malice or hatred. Nothing was said that wasn’t correct, and if I know Qrow he’s already forgiven you all.” There was a finality in his tone, that that was the end of all this. He turned to Ruby “we have far more important matters to discuss.”

Yang was about to say otherwise but stopped, this was what caused there fight in the first place. They would drop it for now, but this conversation was far from over.  Ruby shifted uncomfortably, she wasn’t sure she wished to know.

“Right...Professor Ozpin have you ever seen a grimm like the hound before?”

[liddolwhynot2000]

Reminisce

____________________________________

Summary: So he demoted you. In mere seconds, you went from being the person who owned his heart, to another replaceable soldier.

____________________________________

Pairings: Erwin/Reader

Genre: Angst, Death, Why am I not nice to Erwin, regrets

____________________________________

It's night time, with a full moon and peaceful sky. The stars are sparkling a little, accompanied by a peaceful silence Erwin hasn't experience in a while. If he was still a cadet, he would grab a beer and sit on the roof, maybe with some of his friends, and bask in the view.

But alas, his cadet days are long over. Now, he's the Commander of The Survey Corps. His own wants and needs are at the bottom of the priority list, his work comes first, which is why he's in his cramped office, mind on the next expedition and it's requirements.

Erwin sits in his office, dimly lit by a few candles. His hands don't stop as they continue to write, scribbling on the pages without pause. He looks like his usual self; the untouchable, always composed commander.

Nothing can get past him, nothing can make him panic. It's well known that hardly anything has ever phased him, even since before he became the commander. It's why he's considered to be the best at his job.

But there are signs, signs of a weary man. Someone struggling to keep it all in, to not let out how awful he's feeling. Erwin knows himself well enough, he knows when he exhibits those signs. It's usually on nights like these that he has no choice but to acknowledge the overwhelming guilt he feels and give in to the urge to reminisce.

His hands are trembling a little as they write, his hair is slightly messy, from his running his hands through it so much. His foot lightly taps against the wood of the desk, and his face is more grim then neutral. If anyone who truly knew him took a closer look, they would see that he wasn't doing well.

Erwin sighs, putting the pen down. He knows no one is near by, no one who can see him break down a little. So he allows himself to lower his walls, and bury his head in his arms. He welcomes the darkness and drifts off in his thoughts.

He met you three years ago, an aspiring soldier. Strong, witty, reliable and all the things one needed in a capable solider. He had appreciated you, your never ending strength and ability to turn every bad situation beneficial for them. Even at the cost of your own self.

He recalls how badly you would get injured in your attempts at saving lives, how you would selflessly give you up your gas to Levi, knowing he would use it better, while completely ignoring the danger you put yourself in. He remembers how you never hesitated even then, going as far as to call titans to you by yelling, in hopes that your comrades could attack them in their distraction.

What an honourable soldier you had been, having devoted everything to your duty. You had easily attracted him to you with those traits.

Initally, it had only been comraderie. But then it had evolved, growing beyond what two people who work together should be like. The two of you struck up a quiet friendship, often spending time with each other outside of work. It had genuinely been to dicuss work, at the start, but then months in, he found himself embracing you the way a lover would, not how a friend should.

There were parts of you that only Erwin learned about, and there were parts of Erwin only you knew and got to keep to yourself. No one else would ever know the secrets between the two of you, the laughs, the jokes, the moments where you could only see each other.

Those were things you had taken to your grave, and Erwin had locked up in the darkest parts of his heart and mind. He would never let anyone know of them. After all, it was the least he could do, even though he knows that you would rather he forget them all, rather then reminisce about them.

Erwin is too selfish to honour that last, unsaid request of yours. He has to at least cling to your memory, for it's the only thing keeping him from driving himself to the brink of insanity.

No one ever knew about your relationship, and the two of you had been fine that way. Spending time with each other under the guise of work, sneaking kisses after lights out, all of it had been enjoyable. A relationship he hadn't thought possible had blossomed, one that stuck to him with every thought.

He used to drift off to thoughts of your sweet smile during casual meetings, to the point Levi would threaten to throw him out the window for it. He would plan secret dates, often pretending he was taking you along for work, and take you to nice restaurants. Almost every moment of his spare time had been devoted to you, to enjoy your presence and bask in how you make him feel.

Back then, he had been so lovestruck, so spoiled by your affections, that not a day went by where he could help thinking of you. Not a day went by where he didn't fall for you more. The warm feeling in his chest at the mere sight of you was love, and he knows that he'll never experience it for someone else again.

Not a day goes by where Erwin doesn't miss you. But he also knows that he has no right to, not when he's the one who got you killed.

Erwin shut his eyes tight, to the point they hurt, as he tries to bury his head in to his arms even further. He wishes there was a way for him to become one with darkness, to never have to open his eyes again and acknowledge that he lives in a world where you don't exist.

And it's all because of him.

It had been such a simple mission, an expedition solely to set up check points. They were expecting minimal losses, considering how short the mission would be. There shouldn't have been anything that went wrong, beyond the usual.

But then there was.

In a spur of the moment deicison, Hange had decided she wanted to try capturing a titan, all on her own. She had run off, with her gas not even half full, towards a 7 meter abnormal titan. He had been about to send Levi after her, only to remember that Levi was in the left flank that day, not the central like usual.

Hange had ended up being surrounded by multiple titans in her chase, and had gotten knocked out. She had hung from a tree, surrounded by titans. At that point, he only had your squad available to help.

It had been a tough decision, he had known. Anyone he sent there was going to die saving Hange, and any sane person wouldn't bother with saving Hange after that. But, he had been forced to pick.

You were a reliable soldier, but Hange was too brilliant. He had a gut feeling that they would need Hange and her brain more in the future, and Erwin wasn't one to not follow his instinct. A cold hard fact was that they needed her more then you.

So he demoted you. In mere seconds, you went from being the person who owned his heart, to another replaceable soldier.

He had seen the anguish in your eyes, the absolute hurt. You had known you were going off to your death, and that the man you were in love with was sending you there for his own goals. But you didn't argue.

You could have said that Hange wasn't worth an eight person squad of skilled soldiers. That Hange had gotten herself in this mess on her own and she was unreliable because of it. But you didn't make any of those valid points, knowing that Erwin wouldn't give a damn.

Instead, you took a off, only turning back once to glance at him.

You shot him a look, a sight he had yet to forget. The sheer hatred in your eyes, the betrayal, it had given away how much he had fucked up. It often haunts him in his dreams, knowing he deserves it.

The sight of you getting mauled to death by titans was even worse. It had been the one expedition where he had actually needed to throw up upon getting back to headquarters.

Erwin sits back up, leaning against the chair, his eyes full of an unusual amount of sorrow. He gazes out the window, feeling even worse.

You had loved the full moon, often dragging him out to watch it with you. You would bring snacks, and tea, and just lean against him. The serenity he had felt with you was out of his reach nowt was what made it more painful for him, knowing that he had hand delivered you into the arms of death.

The sight of the full moon reminds him of you, of what he's lost. He can't even complain, or curse you out for haunting him like this in death. He did this, he robbed you of your life, robbed himself of a chance at happiness, for his own selfish goals.

He can only reminisce about you, think about the good times he shared with you. But he can never have you back. He can never turn back time and win back the woman who's one smile made him weak at the knees. Who knew how to make just the right tea he needed to calm down from a frustrated mood. Who could sass Levi to hell and back and not bat an eyelash at the grump man's violence.

With a deep breath, he forces his himself to pick up the pen again, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in his chest. He begins to write again, resigned to his loneliness and regrets.

Maybe you'll forgive him once he starts his time in hell. Then again, a devil like him, who sarcficed others for himself, wasn't even worth forgiveness. Let alone worth you.

____________________________________

A/N: Heyooo. So, I know I'm too mean to Erwin, and I have no excuse for it. I might write some fluff for him now. I initally thought of a part 2 from readers point of view, but I don't know if that's something anyone would read. Do tell if you liked this!

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

this is not very good. you have been warned.

-

When Lorkhan dreamed of inhabiting his world, he must have dreamed of inhabiting it as Wulf. This is what Aspera thinks, watching Wulf stride through the forest as comfortably as if it were his, as if it had been crafted for him alone.

Wulf is handsome, and not only for the Lorkhan written upon him. His youth in the wilds has left him strong and muscular, his healthy diet and new civilized life on Hrothgar have made him tidy and clean. Someone has cut the mats from his hair, though he still wears it loose and long in a shiny oak veil around his thick shoulders; someone has taken a knife and shaved away the unsightly fuzz from his square jaw, and someone has clad his massive frame in long wool trousers and a fine leather belt, as if he were being made fit for Auri-el's court. But he goes shirtless beneath his trollskin cape, although the forest he moves through is glittering palely with frost, and there's still an untamed savageness in his careful silent steps, and a hint of danger in the golden sword that hangs at the end of one of his long arms, and a profound sadness in his storm-grey eyes.

He could be Lorkhan incarnate, surveying his own deeds for a span, and Aspera is as always captivated by him. Forced to assume a mortal form for this profoundly mortal act of indulgence, she sits still as she can on a bough of one of Skyrim's tall silent evergreens, and rests her chin on her knees, and watches Wulf move silent through the forest. She's as motionless as the chilly air (Kyne dares not intrude here), if her eyes could devour she's been fasting for this moment. All this time they spent together, in the Dawn era in different forms, and then in the woods not so long ago, and not once has Aspera come close to being sated for sight of him. Even now she aches with hunger. How, she wonders, can even the mere shadow of him be so beautiful?

But he's come closer, now, his head bowed and veiled by his shiny wood-coloured hair, his thick limbs hidden beneath the cape. Aspera wonders if he's aware that his walk betrays him-- he moves like something not of this world, each stride a little too long, each step a little too light for his size. He moves like his next step will be into Aetherius, into the veil of death, forever out of reach, a terrifying sort of grace. He moves past the tree Aspera perches in, and she leans forwards, eyes wide and hungry, devouring the sight of him.

Her own movement is not so delicate; with the shift the tree she perches in groans.

Wulf stops in his tracks and looks around him.

He does not think to look up (he must be getting sloppy, she taught him to always look up), but he's definitely caught the noise, and he looks this way and that, stray snowflakes snagging in his loose hair. His eyes, deep and colourless as any glacier, widen as he tries to peer through the tall narrow trees which surround him. The frost crinkles underfoot as he turns a slow circle, and Aspera dares not breathe.

"Hans?" Wulf calls out. His voice is soft, but his words rumble even through the trees.

No answer comes, so he looks in another direction. 

"Harald?”

The forest remains silent. Frowning, Wulf begins to walk again, and within moments, once again, so painfully, he's gone.

Aspera is left to slump back against the trunk of the tree, clenching her eyes shut, attempting to imprison the sight she'd so eagerly drank in. 

The loss of him from her view is unbearable; it’s as if she’s reliving the tower all over again, and each time she feels as if the grief might shatter her. She considered taking him captive, once. In her darkest moments she’s imagined keeping this piece of Lorkhan for herself, nestled close and safe deep in the heart of her realm, but she already can't stand the sadness in him and she loathes the thought of hurting him further, so she's banished the idea to the only part of her which feels guilt, and resigned herself to possessing him only in the form of these glimpses. Cold comfort, trapping his form like fire beneath her eyelid, stealing looks at him from behind Hrothgar’s walls. However, it’s all that’s within her reach, and even something so small as his silhouette in her memory is to be cherished, guarded--

A mighty heave shakes the tree and Aspera is toppling to the ground before she can even draw her daggers.

Then she stops falling, and she is in someone's arms.

Wulf never laughs-- a strange trait, because Lorkhan was always laughing-- but he has his own equivalent, for when he successfully pulls a prank, and that is a big toothy smile that burns like the sun. Said smile is burning into Aspera’s shoulders now, for Wulf has caught her on the descent and is now crushing her into an embrace, swinging her around mightily and beaming hot and triumphant against her when he presses his face into her torso.

Aspera, of course, cannot tolerate this. Aspera, of course, shouts in alarm and knees him in the stomach. This shocks him and he staggers back, and Aspera’s on him in an instant, pushing him down to the ground and wresting him into a grapple. But he's larger than he was before, heavier, and he manages to overturn them, pinning her down with his whole body, resting his forehead against her own.

"As-peh-rah," Wulf breathes through his smile.

"Wulf," Aspera replies, and flips him hard into the ground.

The blow knocks the wind from his lungs, and he lets out a hearty 'oof', but he's smiling still, his shoulders shaking with the mute mirth that's as close as he'll ever come to laughter. His eyes are crinkled happily, his hair is tangled with clumps of ice and leaf-litter, and when Aspera gets on top of him again, pinning his shoulders with her knees and wrapping a hand around his neck, he only smiles wider.

"Wulf," Aspera says again, amazed. "Did you trick me?"

"I'm Ysmir now," Wulf replies. His voice knocks snowflakes back into the air and sends Aspera’s hair fluttering.

"Ysmir? Who calls you Ysmir?"

"Paarthurnax."

As easily as if he were brushing off leaves, Wulf-- Ysmir-- rises to sitting, shoving Aspera off of him. She falls back on her rump without a struggle, only staring as Wulf shakes debris from his hair. He does not look so civilized, now, smeared with dirt and snow; she sees that he's been painted in the Atmoran fashion, with an image of a dark red gash cleaving his bare breast from collar to left nipple.

"Paarthurnax," Aspera sneers, through her nose, so that her voice takes on a mocking lilt. "Ambitious lord of cruelty. Is that who you're serving, now, little Wulf?"

Wulf frowns at her, in the way that he always used to frown at her-- taking everything too seriously, especially the jokes. “I serve nobody,” he tells her, deathly-grave. “None but myself.” 

“So what is this?” Aspera reaches out and grabs his hair, thumbing the neatly-trimmed edges.

“My hair.”

“You cut it.” 

“Hans cut it.” Flushing red (he’d always been a sensitive soul), Wulf shoves Aspera’s hand away, and even the graze of his palm feels supernaturally hot. But then the sight of her seems to rekindle something in him, a light behind his cloud-grey eyes that comes perilously close to feeling familiar, and his mouth once again splits open in a smile, revealing perfect yellow teeth. 

“Why are you smiling?” Aspera asks him. 

In reply, Wulf reaches out and clasps her face between his big palms. “Aspera,” he repeats himself, in awe. “It’s truly you.”

“Yes, it’s me. Let go of me.” 

“You’ve come back.” His palms are scratchy with callouses, smelling richly of earth. 

Affectionately, Aspera elbows his arm away, then rises to her feet. “Don’t flatter yourself, mortal. I’m not here for you.” 

Wulf ignores the lie, ignores the good-natured act of violence. He gropes around him, lifts the sword which had fallen to the side when he’d caught her, rises to his feet and stretches. He’s grown since Aspera last saw him, she can’t help but notice, not just in his considerable height; his body has filled out, his already-generous muscles now padded with a healthy layer of Nordic fat. “But you’re back,” he repeats himself, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. 

Aspera can only nod. She feels mute, breathless, winded not only by the fall; she’s being forced to consider once again that if Lorkhan ever dreamed of roaming his own world, this must be the form he would choose. The alluring seriousness of his dark eyes, the handsome downwards curl of his mouth and the sheer power betrayed by his mortal form (she recalls uneasily the strength with which he’d caught her, the magnetic heat behind his skin); as with Lorkhan, being near him feels like standing on a precipice, the temptation to fling herself in overwhelming.

He takes her contemplative silence as an invitation and seizes her hand in his own. “Come,” he bids her, “Let’s go meet Hans. And Harald.”

“Who?”

“My friends. We travel, we hunt, we’ll roam the world, like you and I did.”

“I don’t want to meet your friends.” 

“Oh.” Wulf blinks. “We won’t, then. I know where they are. We’ll go away from them.” 

“And go where? Towards the halls of Kyne’s crony?”

“Paarthurnax?” 

“Him.” 

“No, to a cabin. I left Paarthurnax long ago.” 

“Did you.”

“I told you, I travel now. With Hans and Harald.” (There’s that frown again, full of concern). “You’re mad?” 

It takes all of Aspera’s strength to wrench her hand away from him. Shaking her head mutely, she turns away. 

Time, Auri-el’s invention, does not mean much to either of them, but if one was reckoning by time they had once shared a lot of it. When Wulf was still the foundling of dragons, living alone and without language in the wilds of Tamriel, Aspera had stolen to Nirn and made herself his companion. She’d saved his life, and it had been a perfectly selfish endeavor; they had fought together, hunted together, wrestled, riddled each other, spent long nights by paltry fires cooking scrappy meals of rabbits. They had fled Hircine’s wild hunt on foot and hacked their way out of a herd of werewolves, they had crept around Namira’s corruption and looked Herma-Mora in the eye without flinching. They had shared precious moments together, moments where Aspera had forgot to feel as if something had been torn from her. And when Wulf had allowed himself to be convinced to join the storm-bitten wicked society of the Northmen, abandoning their adventures for a mountain and the mandates of Kyne, those moments had begun to seem paltry indeed.

“Aspera?”

“How arrogant you are, mortal. Asking me to return to your side, after you left me.”

“You left me. You could have stayed.”

“You didn’t give me a choice,” replies Aspera. “Was I meant to follow you, make a toady of myself for Kyne?” 

“But I left him, I told you. I’m with Hans and Harald now.” The soft crackle of frost as Wulf shifts on his feet. “So you can come with me.”

Aspera exhales. “No.” 

“No?” 

No. I’m going to the south, and we shall never meet again.”

“Don’t go. Join Hans and Harald and I. We can hunt--” 

“Typical of you. You only want me for your collection.” 

“I want you to stay with me.” 

“Haven’t I denied you enough times before, Shor? When will you learn your lesson?” 

Wulf is silent for several seconds at that, so quiet that Aspera thinks he’s left. But when she turns she finds that he’s come closer to her, and he’s still staring at her with his sad, serious expression, his eyes as dull grey as ash. 

And he comes even closer to her, painfully close, and she cannot bring herself to move away when he touches her cheek once more.

“Koraav zey, Boethiah,” Wulf says softly.

Aspera turns her head away. “I won’t.” 

“I am not him.”  

“I don’t believe you. How can you deny what you are, after all I’ve known about you?” 

“I’m not him,” Wulf repeats. One of his hands, hot despite the chill of the day, cradles her cheek, and with the other he brushes his thumb over her lips. He’s standing very close, staring seriously into her eyes with a gaze like staring into one of Kyne’s tempests, fathomless, a spark of violence beneath the eyelid. “Look at me.” 

Aspera closes her eyes and laughs a bitter laugh. “I don’t believe you.” 

“Boet-hi-ah.” 

“Do you think you know me, then, using that name? You know I won’t listen to your words, that I never have; so if you mean to say this thing to me, prove it.” 

And Aspera must have known what challenge he was planning, the single thing Lorkhan would never have given to her, for she is not surprised when Ysmir bites a kiss into her lips. 

The kiss is sweet, and tastes of ash, and burns for the beauty of it, and Aspera tries her best to bring Lorkhan’s face to mind, as if it were Lorkhan’s mouth on her own, as if Lorkhan were living and Lorkhan would have ever held her so closely, partaking of her hunger with a warm tongue and sharp teeth. It’s not exactly gentle, but she must jealously wonder where he’s gotten all the practice (who are Hans and Harald?), in the few moments before he drags her into an embrace and crushes any power of thought out of her. Later there will be time to ponder this all, to contemplate the real want behind the deed and whether Lorkhan’s memory is behind the depth of the kiss and the grasping of fingers, but for a sliver of that so-called time, somewhere between tasting ash and separating just enough to concoct a plan in breathy whispers, Aspera forgets to pretend that it’s Lorkhan she’s embracing. 

-

In a rough-shod hunting cabin, on a frigid winter night, Ysmir kneels by a straw bed and holds a sword aloft like an offering.

“What is this?” laughs Aspera. She’s perched above him on the thin straw mattress, draped in blankets like a queen. 

“It’s a sword,” says Ysmir, earnestly. 

“You’re holding it wrong, Wulf. How much have you forgotten?”

“It’s a gift.”

“Always giving me gifts. Come, get off the floor and join me again.” 

But Ysmir stays kneeling, and he might have looked a little ridiculous, naked on his knees with the blade held high over his head, if it weren’t for the deathly somberness of his eyes. “Take it,” he commands her, with no hint of humour, “It’s for you.” 

“Well, aren’t you cocky.” But Aspera knows him, and knows his stubbornness, so, without further argument, she takes the sword from his hand and lifts it in her own. It’s unlike any sword she’s seen before: the blade is golden, very thin and very long, with a slight curve to it; the balance is impeccable. When she moves her arm to cut the air with it, it flickers hotly like a candle’s flame.

She’s so captivated by the blade that she feels rather than sees Ysmir sit on the bed behind her, keeping his distance respectfully, save for the large hand that lightly cups the outer rim of her hip. 

“It’s a good blade,” Aspera declares, resisting the urge to sink back into him. The fire’s burned out ages ago and the cabin is cold, but Ysmir’s hand feels hot as any brand. “Why give it to me?”

“To know you by, when we meet again.” 

Aspera places the sword down on her bare thighs with one hand, and uses the other to clasp the hand on her hip. “Who says we will meet again?” she asks lazily, leaning back against his warm chest, so that her head comes to rest with the ear pressed just over the place where a mortal man’s heart would be. “No matter. Does it have a name?”

Ysmir bows his head, embraces her from behind, pulls her in close against that uncanny-quiet chest. And he whispers in her ear, in a voice that rumbles through the world itself: “Goldbrand.”