#its also interesting seeing how the sausage is made so to speak

[milfspiggy]

somehow fell down a rabbit hole that led me to a very popular blog and i was scrolling through it and realized ohhh this is why you're tumblr famous. you're literally constantly posting and all of your posts have a million tags on them

[lovebotmo]

like the movies

chapter one - falling behind

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 1199

author’s note: i am so excited for this first chapter. im forcing myself to pace these so i don't get burned out LMAO. i hope you enjoy this first installment!!! also not beta read so fight me.

song inspiration: "like the movies" by laufey

“Why haven’t you ever dated, Y/n?”

While the question had been relatively simple, its forwardness sent you into a coughing fit while sipping your coffee at breakfast. Sitting across from the inquirer, Luna Lovegood, you quickly mopped up your spill while throwing her a dirty look. The conversation at your table that morning in the Great Hall had consisted of relationships, past, present, and mind-numbing, wobbly-kneed crushes, but you hadn’t expected the focus of the chat to turn towards you.

To your right, your dearest friend, Hermione Granger, quickly jumped to your defense. “It’s not that simple, Luna. There are a number of perfectly good reasons why someone does or does not, in Y/n’s case, date!”

Hermione seemed absolutely content with her answer, patting you gently on the back with a kind smile. Her sympathy made you groan before you dropped your head into your hands. “For the love of Merlin, can we please discuss something—”

Ginny Weasley plopped down on your right, eager to give her two cents on the matter of your abysmal dating record. “I mean, you’ve had people interested in you, right? None of them have piqued your fancy? What’s his face—um…Lee Jordan! He asked you out a few months ago, right? What about him?”

“What about Cormac?” asked Hannah Bones. “I know he’s a bit of a tosser, but he’s not bad to look at. I sit next to him in Transfiguration, I could introduce you!”

Increasingly irritated with the course of the conversation, you piped up. “Thank you, Hannah, but I’ve got no interest in—”

Ginny interrupted, “What about one of my brothers? They’re bloody idiots, no doubt, but I’m sure I could put in a good word. What’s your type? Hmm—you into the whole cheeky thing Fred and George have going on—”

“Enough!” The four girls stared at you and your face that could easily rival a tomato with its present scarlet hue. A silence washed over the nearby tables in the Great Hall. A few odd looks were thrown at you from the surrounding students before their conversations recommenced. “As much as I appreciate your intense interest in my lack of relationships, I don’t feel like fleshing it out over cinnamon rolls and sausage links at 8:00 a.m. in the morning, if you lot don’t mind.”

The girls quickly began to apologize before you hushed them. “It’s totally fine, seriously, I just don’t want to get into it. We’re all good. Promise.”

As if sensing that you weren’t entirely ‘good,’ Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Hermione beat her to it. “Y/n and I have got to get going if we’re going to make it to Potions. We’ll see you guys later, alright?” You could have snogged the life out of Hermione for the offered escape route. You and Hermione both knew you had another thirty minutes before your first class, but what the three girls didn’t know wouldn’t kill them. After swiftly packing up her things, Hermione linked her arm with yours, whisking you away from the other three.

Even though your next class was in the dungeons, Hermione steered you towards an unfamiliar corridor, one she had likely found on the vast number of adventures she, Harry, and Ron had found themselves in over the years. Arms still intertwined; she sat you both on a bench. After sitting in a few moments of silence, you squeezed her arm and spoke, “Thanks, ‘Mione.”

Returning your squeeze, she smiled. “I figured you could use a break from that inquisitive lot. They can be a bit much, altogether at once. Merlin knows how they’ll react when I tell them about Ron and me.” The two of you looked at each other in stunned silence before bursting into laughter. Hermione laughed at the imaginary image of shock and disbelief she imagined would appear on Ginny’s face. You laughed, however, at the thought that anyone could be unaware to the obvious affection shared between the couple. You doubted that Filch, perhaps the most oblivious man to ever inhabit Hogwarts, couldn’t see the feelings that had steadily been growing between Hermione and Ron since their first year. Feelings you had yet to experience at Hogwarts, despite your desperate desire to.

As if sensing your thoughts, Hermione peered into your face before softly speaking, “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I won’t push you or anything, but I just want you to know you have an ear if you want one.”

Considering her words, you peered at the ceiling that seemed miles away. Of all the people you knew at Hogwarts, Hermione might have been the best to unburden yourself to.

You turned to look at her before speaking. “Well, it’s like this. Take Lee Jordan for example—when he asked me out, he found me after Defense Against the Dark Arts and just said, ‘Want to go out sometime, L/N?’ And that’s it! I mean, it took him all of four seconds to ask—and I don’t know…I asked him why he wanted to go out with me—which let me tell you he gave me quite a funny look because of my question—before he said, ‘Well, you’re fit and nice.’    

Hermione laughed at Lee’s simplistic answer before you continued. “Don’t get me wrong, it was a fine answer, and I appreciated the ‘fit’ part especially,” you said, winking at Hermione, “But that was the whole exchange. No real effort, no deep interest in me. It was simple.”

Hermione smiled at you, “But you don’t want simple, do you?”

You shrugged. “I guess not? Believe me, I don’t want a live performance where the man of my dreams serenades me with a homemade song listing my manifold of attractions.” This time you joined Hermione in her laughter. “I’d rather die on the spot, honestly, than endure that, but the point is I don’t want to be asked out just to be asked out. I want someone who’s thought about it, someone who’s noticed the little things about me, and lets me know that he has noticed them. I want to be wooed, goddammit!”

Hermione pealed in laughter for a solid minute before she managed to catch her breath. Smiling, she replied, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be ‘wooed’, Y/n. Godric knows Ron could stand to do a bit more ‘wooing’ when it comes to us.”

Turning your body fully to Hermione, you took her hands into yours, earnestly. “You don’t think I’m asking for too much? Being too high maintenance? I mean, I suppose we are young and still learning after all and—”

“Y/n, no. There is nothing wrong with wanting to know if someone truly likes you and wanting them to show it.” She squeezed your hands in assurance.

“Are you positively sure, because honestly—”

“I am absolutely sure, Y/n.”

“One hundred percent sure?”

“What do you think absolute means, Y/n?”

“…Point taken, ‘Mione.”

“Now then,” she said, standing and dragging you along with her, “we really must head off to Potions if we don’t want to be late.”

Trotting behind her, you smiled at your ever-punctual friend, “Yes ma’am.”

[starryluminary]

Honestly I want to know your opinion on Nemma. Because honestly I don’t like the ship either and want to see if someone agrees with me.

Oh my god hiiii nerd-chocolate!! I will GLADLY detail why I don’t like nemma. Buckle up cause I’m not exactly normal about this subject

I will preface this by saying I understand why it’s Noah and Emma. I get why if Noah had to have a girlfriend it would be someone who would match his intellect and someone he could hold a competent conversation with. Logically, on paper, I understand. It’s not so much the concept of Noah and Emma dating that I dislike, it’s the execution. The development of the relationship was a train wreck. HERES WHY!!!

From the very beginning Nemma showed problems. The Noah that couldn’t play a game of dodgeball for $100,000 and was so standoffish he could only make a good friend in Owen is now suddenly falling in love at first sight with a girl that did a front flip and I’m just supposed to accept it at face value??

You could argue that it’s been three years and a person could change in three years. I’d like to argue back: this is a cartoon. If the development happened offscreen, it didn’t happen. Noah had a drastic change in personality out of nowhere because they give us no reason to believe otherwise. This is just the beginning. It’s all downhill from here, honey.

This is very much subjective and a personal thing but do you know how irritating his face is.

It makes me ill. Who is this.

Back on track, Noah is out of character the rest of his time competing (not that he was perfectly in character to begin with.) Both the way he treats Owen and how he acts regarding Emma is not believable to me. He’s tragically mean to Owen almost the entire time and he’s insufferably… inconsistent? When it comes to Emma? Like they didn’t exactly have pinned down how he should act when he’s in love so it changes with every episode.

[I did a bit of research regarding the more important Nemma episodes and their writers, but couldn’t draw any good conclusions from it. I did find out Laurie Elliot wrote both Slap Slap Revolution from World Tour (notorious for the most significant Noco moments of the season) and New Beijinging (where Nemma is at its worst in my opinion.) This isn’t all that relevant but it IS fucking hilarious. The writer responsible for “Cody’s got a tiny sausage!” being made to (co) write a Nemma episode and subsequently butchering it is reeeeeally funny to me.]

On the topic of New Beijinging. I cannot watch this episode uninterrupted and it’s because of Nemma. I despise it. It’s not that I don’t believe Noah would act like a bumbling fool in love… in concept. In CONCEPT, I can buy the failed one liners and the speaking your thoughts out loud and the acting out to try and impress her. In practice it’s so painful to watch. The Noah that said he’s incapable of being embarrassed in his WT biography is now spitting hot food in his love interests face and physically recoiling every time he tries to talk to her. I can’t express through text the pain and anguish it causes me.

This is ALSO after giving her a suave one liner in the previous episode. How does he go from cool and collected to cringing at her I- AAAGGHHHH.

They don’t suddenly get better when the feelings are mutual, either. They just become insufferable together and it’s tragic. This is specifically about Māori or Less and Got Venom? (though admittedly I haven’t gotten that far in my rewatch and don’t remember Got Venom? too vividly. I do know they’re annoying in it even to Owen and Kitty so.) They just become so infatuated with each other they forget the rest of the world exists and while I enjoy the CONCEPT……… it just manages to drag down both characters. At least they treat Emma with a little more respect and have her snap out of the haze to play the damn game but THEY END UP KNOCKING OUT NOAH INSTEAD. Pain agony suffering and woe. Noah going catatonic and leaving Owen to struggle is the worst it gets but he still never truly focuses on the game and even hopes to get kicked off. He won’t even play for Owen.

Do I even have to mention Owen. My poor guy Owen. Owen suffers an unnecessary amount for Nemmas development. It hurts my heart even thinking about it but I’ll list off examples. Ways Owen has suffered for the sake of the relationship include:

Being made to carry dead weight (Noah) on more than one occasion.

Being used as a flotation device, offered by Noah to Emma, after being frozen solid.

Being forced to wait for the sister team, making his team go from first place to seventh.

Being victim to Noah’s snark and insults, which he does to either impress Emma or to reprimand Owen because of something Emma related.

LOSING THE RACE CAUSE NOAH COULD ONLY FIND THE ENERGY TO MOVE WHEN HE WAS OFFERED A KISS FROM EMMA.

(Side note: have I ever mentioned that RR Noah is my enemy? I feel like I don’t mention it enough)

To wrap this up, I do genuinely believe Nemma could have been great. I don’t hate Nemma cause I thought Noah was gay, or I’m a Noco shipper, or any other superficial reason. I hate it cause it’s a terribly written relationship that had to completely destroy my favorite character of the series to try and make it work. It’s a damn shame, really. I wish I could look past how different Noah is and how badly he treats Owen and how sickly annoying he and Emma can be and just, at the very least, tolerate Nemma. But I can’t, and I never will.

[takaraphoenix]

So DCeased ended, huh.

And I’m... it wasn’t the worst ending, but I’m also not happy with it?

After that amazing twist with Alfred becoming the Spectre, specifically to save Damian’s life, to save his last son (still kinda pissed that Cass is... just... not acknowledged at all as a Bat Fam member I mean she is alive?? She barely appeared at all in this run? And doesn’t seem to matter to Alfred and Damian at all?).

Alfred did this great thing to save Damian... just so Damian could now sacrifice himself for the universe. Wow. How satisfying. /s

And it was somehow made more infuriating by how dumb everyone around him seemed? Cassie not realizing that this was a sacrifice play. I’m sorry, but if someone says they have “a weapon” and “can’t tell you what it is” but leave you, their romantic interest, behind on purpose... then the weapon is them, it’s a sacrifice play, they’re not coming back. You don’t need to be Wonder Woman to figure that out, but also Wonder Woman should definitely be able to see through that.

It absolutely infuriated me how dumb this made Cassie look, on top of sidelining her. Not giving Wonder Woman anything to do in this final battle against EREBUS, the ancient GREEK deity of darkness. Really? You really did that? You made the Big Bad a Greek god and then you benched Wonder Woman?

But hey! Ares got to go and play! And the Black Racer! And... so many more guys. It was a real... sausage party up there. Oh, yeah, and Dinah, I guess. Wow. One woman, huh.

No, seriously, benching Wonder Woman here? And not letting Cass as Shazam do anything anymore? Making Cass Shazam had been such a cool move but then she kind of... never really... appeared anymore, aside from in the background? And I gotta repeat where I couldn’t hold my tongue earlier, because seriously. They made Alfred mourning Bruce, Jason, Dick and Tim such a big deal. And yeah, it should be. Absolutely. But... how do the women not matter at all? So Steph and Babs aren’t ‘family’, so their deaths don’t have that much impact (it would still be nice if they would have been mourned too, to any degree), but Cass is family and Cass is still alive and Cass is not included in anything. There are no moments between her and Alfred, between her and Damian. What the fuck.

The way Damian mentions that Cass is training the new Kryptonians just... reminded me that Cass exists - or rather, showed me that the writers remember that Cass exists - and that makes it somehow worse, I don’t know.

Speaking of the new Kryptonians, another underused female character really was Kara though. The way this series opened up around Kara, I... falsely assumed her to be a central figure and play a... bigger part... But... uh... she... really didn’t... I mean really didn’t. Even the reunion with Clark was kind of a throwaway moment that faded away and then she was gone, because untrained new Kryptonian.

But the severe underusage of its badass female characters aside, the sacrifice play.

I don’t believe that it was necessary. There’s no way, no way, that they couldn’t have found a better solution for it. That they couldn’t have delivered it on the damn USB drive that it was on, or whatever. Heck. Put it on a mouse and sacrificed the mouse, sorry, PETA.

But Damian had this whole arc over this series, and Alfred did this great thing to save him, and now we’re just back to “yeah I do everything on my own, and now I gotta die to save the universe, all on my own, without even trying to figure out a better solution with my team”, when one of the great things about this series was when there were all these great and different characters working together.

Also I honestly wish they had not included the part with Damian’s birthday and him turning eighteen. For one, it made the sacrifice much... sadder. He was just a kid, still. I had genuinely assumed that much more time had passed in-universe and that Damian was 20+ at this point. And the other part, it would have made the Damian/Cassie less weird if they had not gone out of their way to announce that, because she’s... Tim’s age, so five-ish years older than him. So it seemed like a bit of a choice to emphasize that.

On the overall? Man, that finale was a... letdown. Which sucks, because I really had enjoyed it so far. This had so much potential. It was great. I hate when something is amazing, but then... just doesn’t stick the landing, because a mediocre or bad ending can sour the whole story and this... did that.

So now Alfred haunts space, mourning his sons. The ending doesn’t fit the journey, in my opinion. It was always a journey of hope, Clark and Pam and Jason and Jon and Alfred everyone always projected hope to... get a new start. And, obviously there were losses, there had to be, but the literal final shot of this was Alfred, all alone, staring into a vast universe created by Damian’s death, thinking about his dead sons, thinking about the past. Not the hope, not the future. We don’t even return to Earth in this finale, we don’t even see them start to rebuild, we don’t see hope’s seedling, we don’t see a joyful future that Damian brings, we only the sadness. And that stands in contrast to this message of trying to find hope that the story kept telling throughout.

Hope? Hope would have been Victor Stone, who has the intellect of Brainiac and the knowledge of Apokolips, actually figuring out a better solution, instead of being robbed of his agency by a self-sacrificial teenager who got to explode into a new universe because they couldn’t think of implanting this into a mouse or something. It would have been seeing them all return to Earth, rebuild. Seeing what Harley and Pam have been rebuilding down there already, and those from Earth-2 finding their place back home. Seeing Alfred and Leslie, happy, with Damian (and Cass...). That’s what everyone has worked toward for this entire journey.

[meals-on-wheels-tales]

Hometown Memories Turn to Big Dreams

The earliest memory of breakfast in my family was when I was six years old. We were a low income family who constantly found the small things in life to bring a larger appreciation to current circumstances. Every morning around 10:00 am I would watch the morning cartoons as my dad would prepare breakfast for my brother and I. The classic box television sat in front of me as an aroma of both sweet and savory scents wafted from the kitchen to the living room. An array of fluffy scrambled eggs with melted American cheese, homemade waffles, perfectly crisp on the outside hash browns, and homemade breakfast sausage placed on a plate with love.

Every weekend growing up, my dad would make breakfast, and his hash browns were always the star of the table. The golden, garlicky crunch paired with the soft, warm spice of cayenne pepper was comfort food at its finest. I can still recall the aroma wafting through the house and the warmth I felt sitting down to enjoy the meal. It wasn’t just food—it was a moment of connection and care.

Breakfast was always a time where my father and I could share time together before he went off to work. As a young child, I was always finding the courage to learn new things. Cooking and baking specifically were an interest of mine. I had always wanted to be like the grown ups and create delicious meals for my family. As a 10 year old I definitely tried my best. My father always made his hash browns in the morning where he had more time before work. These were a fan favorite in my family and I knew I had to learn his techniques.

Over time, I learned to recreate his hash browns, mimicking the balance of flavors and textures that made them so special. Cooking breakfast became an outlet for me, a way to channel creativity and bring joy to others. Eventually, I realized I wanted to share that same comforting experience with my community. That’s when the idea of starting a food truck took root. I can’t recall the specific moment this dream sparked, but I do remember a few years ago overhearing my brother speak about his new welding LLC he had launched. After enough time I knew I wanted to create something of my own—to become my own boss and to have something I created from the ground up. I would see food trucks on the road and make a funny comment to whoever I was saying, “That's going to be me one day!” or when talking about events I would say, “Ya and my food truck will be catering the event! How cool would it be to have breakfast served at a morning wedding reception or something along those lines?” After registering these comments I realized that this can actually become something.

To turn my dream into a reality, I interviewed several food truck owners to understand what it takes to succeed. Everyone was always telling me that I have potential and needed to start, but I was always too scared and feared my lack of knowledge when it came to starting a business.

The owners' stories were invaluable. One of the most important lessons I learned is the value of a strong and encouraging support system. Family, friends, and mentors provide the motivation to keep going and offer help in moments of doubt. I also learned the importance of starting small—relying on those same friends and family to spread the word, test recipes, and help build momentum organically.

Another key takeaway was how critical it is to embrace all aspects of running the business. I want to combine my marketing and creative skills to create a unique brand for my food truck. From designing logos to engaging on social media, I want every detail to reflect the warmth and comfort I hope my food provides. The owners I spoke with emphasized that the ability to adapt and take on multiple roles—chef, marketer, and manager—is essential in growing a successful food truck business.

One recurring theme in all the advice I received was the power of finding my niche. For me, that niche is fast, portable, and delicious breakfast dishes that fit seamlessly into busy schedules. My goal is to give my community a warm, welcoming meal that helps them start their day on the right note.

Throughout the planning process, I have learned that this is going to take a lot of work, commitment, and trial and error to create something big. As I experiment more with my own recipes I have found new ways and ideas to bring to a menu. One specific thing that I have learned was to decrease the time it takes to make my hash browns using a steaming method. This method consists of adding water to the pan and covering them so the inside gets a perfect soft consistency. Before committing to the finances, marketing, and truck search, these experiments and practice are going to be key to make a successful operation. Additionally, I want to be known for my great hash browns from my fathers recipe, but I am also learning how to perfect the perfect pancakes, and learning other delicious recipes such as biscuits and gravy.

With my dad’s hash browns as inspiration and the lessons I’ve learned from experienced food truck owners, I’m ready to embrace the challenges and joys of this journey. By combining my passion for breakfast with a strong foundation of support and strategy, I can create something meaningful—one breakfast at a time. I am driven to get this food truck on the road, but I still have plenty of learning to do. Spending time at other restaurants and interviewing food truck owners, I have already made a lot of progress to the next steps of achieving my dream.

[red-writes]

Career oriented 

Escort! Bakugou x Reader

Your entire life you've been focused solely on your career, you've sacrificed a lot      of things, people and time to get where you are and it’s paid off, now you're a millionaire who is also a virgin and never had a boyfriend in their life. Your friend recommends you a male escort service. At first you hire him to go on dates and do other things couples do but the relationship develops far beyond what you could've imagined, now you're laying under him begging him to be your first. 

cw: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, reader is a capitalist lmao, I mean reader is a virgin but its not rlly virginity loss bc its not focused around that but reader does lose her virginity, unedited (but what's new)

a/n: I mean we always hear abt sugar daddies, I need rich reader pls also- monoma is a rich bitch y'all can't fight me on this he got that rich bitch mentality.

The words ‘hard worker’ were understatements when it came to describing you. Pretty much all of your life was spent working, growing your small business with your own two hands. Now money was never an issue. A huge house with several bathrooms, fancy bags and cars, all the things you've ever wanted were now in your possession except maybe one thing. Seeing happy couples holding hands as they walked around in the park, kissing and calling each other pet names, seeing them stirred a feeling of longing inside of you. 

While it’s true that now you'd never want for anything else in your life, you still wanted something money couldn't buy you, love.

 A small tap to your shoulder brought you out of your daze.

“Your eggs are going to get cold..” Todoroki mentioned and you gave him a small smile before prodding your fork in the perfectly scrambled egg. 

“Hey, don't tell me you're thinking about that shareholders meeting this week” Monoma groans and you shake your head.

“Then what is it?” Momo wondered as she wiped her mouth with her napkin. 

“It’s just- you guys all have someone you know romantically” you say as you rest your fork on the plate, deciding that you weren't really in the mood to eat anymore. 

Monoma scoffs, “Yeah barely...I almost broke up with shinso after that last stunt he pulled in the club” 

Momo giggles, “You're still with him?” 

His face dusts pink in embarrassment as he looks away, “A-anyway, why don't you try getting an escort” Monoma recommends and it was your turn for your face to warm. 

“An e-escort?! You do realize who we are right? If someone in here were to hear us talk about such a thing..” Momo whisper-yells and Todoroki’s eyebrow quirks up

“We all know I met Izuku through a sugar daddy website though-”

You clear your throat, “I’m not necessarily looking for you know..sex...just maybe someone to spend time with Monoma” You clarify and he's rummaging through his pockets to find his phone, he fiddles with it before showing you what the site looks like.

“Duh, escorts just get paid for their time not necessarily sex, I’ll send you the link to the website” He tells you and you sigh thoughtfully, if that was really the case then it wouldn't be so wrong to hire some cute eye candy right? 

Momo waves over the waiter, “We’ll have the check please”

“Certainly ma'am” 

+

You sat at your office’s desk with the website pulled up. You'd triple checked to make sure your door was locked, you still had a reputation to uphold as the CEO of your company, you'd be traumatized if one of your employees saw you hiring an escort. 

You scrolled through the many many options of guys. Each profile consisted of a headshot of the escort along with a bio that consisted of maybe a paragraph and . You really couldn't find anyone that suited your tastes personally, until your mouse hovered over a blonde guy. 

His bio was notably shorter than everyone else’s and in his picture he looked mean, eyebrows furrowed and red eyes staring menacingly at you and yet you found yourself clicking the ‘hire!’ button next to his name. Even though he looked like his favorite hobby was stealing candy from a baby, but his looks (as shallow as that may seem) were really speaking to you and the you between your legs if you were honest.

Bakugou Katsuki huh..well he seemed worth a try. 

+

You had been through countless scenarios were you were rightfully terrified. 

Being on a date had to be the scariest out of all of them.

Bakugou was sitting in front of you, he stirred his straw around in his coffee and looked at you while you struggled to contain the rabid beating of your heart in your chest. 

“S-So..What- um..-”

“Just relax” He interrupts, his voice sounded so nice, deep and smooth like a rich dark chocolate. It only manages to make you more nervous. 

“I’m sorry- I haven't actually done this before” you confess with a nervous chuckle, hands gripping your tea cup brutally. 

He gives you this half smile and you're unsure of wether he's actually human or a demi-god at this point. “I can tell, but don't worry there's no reason to be” 

You feel slightly comforted by his words and feel yourself let loose a little, “Okay, Bakugou, what do you like to do?” you ask.

“I like going to the gym” he shrugs, “I’m not really Interesting, I’m more curious about you” he says, he places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand and leans in to you. His skin is so clear- not a blemish in sight and his eyes are practically burning a hole into your soul.

“M-me? I do nothing too important..I like to sew” you respond, taking a sip of your jasmine tea. You didn't necessarily want to tell him about who you were or what you did just yet, money and status only complicate things. For now, you just wanted to be a normal young woman going out on a date. 

“Come on, don't be shy, I know there's more to you than sewing” He says, removing the straw from his coffee and placing it on a neighboring napkin. 

You bite into your bottom lip, “Well, I honestly don't do much besides work, it’s taken up so much time in my life I can't say I do much else” you admit and Bakugou hums thoughtfully. He doesn't respond for a bit, the sounds of the coffee shop fill the silence instead. 

“Okay, I have an idea” 

You cock your head to the side curiously.

“Let’s ditch the formalities and go have some real fun, I think its about time you lived your life” he proposes and your mouth hands open. Was he serious? He looked it. You couldn't help the giddy feeling that bubbled up within you, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time, excitement. It made you feel young again. 

“What do you say?”

“Alright!” 

+

The two of you spent all day together, visiting various hidden places around the city, you did shopping and even some sightseeing. For the first time in a while you felt alive, like you were actually a person and not just a unfeeling robot who simply lived to work. 

Your last stop was a park. With a large lake in the center Bakugou suggested you guys feed the birds before heading home. With a handful of birdseed you gently sprinkled some into the water and watched the geese gobble it up.

“When I was five, I had a huge fear of geese..” Bakugou admits and you're chuckling.

“No way, really?” you turned to face him and when you do he’s already looking at you, smiling fondly, eyes filled with an emotion that you really couldn't seem to put your finger on.

“What? Do I have something on my face that you're not telling me about?” You pout and he shakes his head before turning his attention back to the birds as he sprinkles more of the food into the lake. 

“No, just realized somethin’” 

The sun’s beginning to set now, the sky is illuminated by hues of orange and pink. You nudge him with your arm, “Realized what?” 

He turns back to face you, there's an adoring look on his face. 

“You look pretty when you're having fun” 

A look of surprise crosses your features before your ears burn in embarrassment at the sudden compliment, the butterflies in your stomach flutter around more and more the longer you two stare at each other. 

“Thanks” You mumble before looking down at your palm full of birdseed. 

+

Dates with Bakugou become more and more frequent after that. The two of you often meeting up more than you meet up with your regular friends. Bakugou doesn't even charge you anymore, even though you've tried to tell him it was fine he still insisted otherwise. The two of you even exchanged numbers and spoke quite often on the phone. Texts like,

‘this song reminded me of you’ and ‘don't work too hard, idiot’ were often exchanged. 

After maybe a month of this happening you realized that the warm feeling you got in your chest whenever Bakugou brushed your hair into place or stopped to tie your shoe for you or even when he texted you good morning wasn't because you appreciated him being a good friend, you liked him. It took a month to finally decipher your feelings for him but once you did..what the heck were you supposed to do now?

Never once in your life had you confessed to someone let alone dated them, what would happen to your friendship with Bakugou if things didn't work out? You didn't want to stop being friends with him, you loved being with him, he was the reason you finally started taking breaks and learned to relax. 

You had a ton of questions to answer for yourself but you couldn't do it right now, you had a date with Bakugou. He told you to dress up and you weren't sure where you were going but you trusted him to take you somewhere you'd enjoy. Around 8pm like promised, he was there to pick you up. His car was fairly nice, you assumed his high pay rates were being used for something but now you know what. He was wearing a black three piece suit, it was crisp and you could clearly tell it was expensive, his hair was slicked back and he had a single diamond stud in his left ear. He looked damn good. It was making you a little nervous about how fancy this place actually was. 

The drive to dinner was unusually quiet. Bakugou typically did most of the conversations with you seeing as you were mostly an awkward sausage but tonight was different, he had a stern look on his face and you felt a little worried. Bakugou noticed your nervous look in the rearview mirror and without skipping a beat placed his hand gently upon your thigh and gave it a small squeeze, this thumb moved back and forth in a soothing manner. All without taking his eyes off the road. 

You felt a shiver run up your spine and you bit your lip from potentially making any noise, you turned your head to face the window to prevent him from seeing the look on your face. 

+

Bakugou was right about the restaurant being fancy. The place was full of people you could recognize, everyone from business moguls to celebrities, it was almost a little intimidating but you knew probably how tough it was for Bakugou to even get a table reserved at this place so you decided to instead choke down any kindlings of anxiety and replace it with a gratefulness for his hard work.

You swirled the champagne around in your glass while Bakugou took a bite out of his steak, the atmosphere between you two was a little awkward and it hadn't been like this since the two of you met it was a little alarming. 

“Is something wrong..?” you ask after gently resting the glass back on the table, he wipes his mouth with his napkin and sighs.

“I’m sorry that- I seem so weird tonight” he apologizes and you shake your head.

“No no don't worry about it, I’m just worried something bad happened” you tell him, you lean forward and place your hand on his. His fingers lace themselves with yours and for a moment it feels like its just the two of you in the restaurant together. 

“Nothing bad, actually something good” he explains and you're giving him a small smile

“Something good?” you question and he leans in even closer to you.

“I mean, ever since I started hanging out with you I feel like my life's changed, I’m not one to be super cheesy but I just- fuck..I like you” his face is turning a light pink and in a moment of courage you close the small distance between the two of you and press your lips against his. He immediately reciprocates the kiss, his hand sneaks up your forearm and settles on your elbow using it to pull you in closer. 

When the kiss finally breaks the two of you are a panting mess, then you hear the waiter clear his throat and Bakugou uses his thumb to wipe the lipstick from the corner of his lips.

“Check, please”

+

Upon entering your home, there wasn't much speaking. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as his hands fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress. The two of you blindly walked backwards until you tripped backwards onto the couch. Bakugou completely stripped you of your dress and  laid it across the back of the couch, your hands made quick work of his pants unbuttoning and unzipping them, he kicked them off eagerly uncaring of where the fabric was strewn. He cupped your cheek and continued to kiss you as he helped you wiggle out of your underwear. He sucked in a breath at feeling how wet you already were.  He ran a finger up and down your slit before gently nudging a finger inside. 

The sensation was foreign, it felt odd at first but the more he kept twisting and thrusting the finger inside of you the better it began to feel. He slid in another one and began making a scissor motion inside of you. Your hips raised off the cushions of the couch, you moaned into the kiss and eventually he pulled away from it, instead opting to kiss the skin of your neck. Your moans along with the wet sounds of his fingers fingering you open filled the space. It felt good, you could feel the knots in your stomach threaten to untangle the harder his fingers fucked themselves into you. 

His movements slowly came to a halt and he slid his fingers out. Your eyes clouded with tears and your legs were shaking, disappointed that he stopped when you were so close. He pulled his cock from his underwear and began stroking it over you.

“Ready?” He asks as he grinds his cock against your twitching entrance and you're gripping his shoulder before he makes another move. 

“A-actually..please just be gentle its-i’ve never done this before” you confess and his eyes widen for once, taken aback by your sudden profession. He gives you a small nod, “Promise.”

With one smooth stroke he bottoms out within you. Your back is arching off the couch as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. The feeling is an addicting mix of pain and pleasure that has the tears you were holding in begin to roll down your cheeks, Bakugou gently kisses them away and uses his fingers to wipe away the stray tears. For a while, you're simply holding each other, bakugou whispers words of comfort in your ears while you slowly familiarize yourself with having him inside of you. 

When Bakugou feels your hips begin to move against his, he takes that as his sign to begin moving. His thrusts start shallow, hips just barely touching yours as he doesn't want to hurt you and you quickly become frustrated with his kindness. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you, forcing him to bottom out inside you again. You whine his name and he shakes his head. 

“And here I was trying to be considerate” he huffs out, you grip his tie and pull him down and press a gentle kiss against his lips. 

“I didn't ask you to take it easy on me” you remind him and he scoffs

“You asked for this”

You're suddenly flipped onto your stomach and he raises your hips in the air, he pulls himself all the way out of you until the head of his cock is the only thing you can still feel inside of you, he rams his cock back into you and you're gripping the couch for dear life. His hips are ruthless, lewd slapping noises fill the room as the head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. His heavy balls  greet your clit with an unceremonious slap. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't think of anything else except Bakugou. You'd been completely fucked dumb on your first time. 

You feel Bakugou’s fingers lace into your hair and grip the roots before pulling at them and forcing your head back. A jolt of pleasure flows through your body as his cock pushes up against your g-spot, your legs and kicking around behind you.

“No! cum-cumming kats I-” you can hardly finish your own sentence due to how hard your orgasm hits you, your body his shaking as bakugou releases your hair and uses his free hand to grip your waist as he desperately humps you, chasing his own release. Your cunt spasms around him in overstimulation, Katsuki only curses under his breath as you squeeze down on him, your cunt clamps down on his cock as you're brought to your second orgasm and his movements finally begin to slow and an unfamiliar warm fills your tummy. 

He doesn't pull out right away. Instead he gently lays you backwards onto his chest and you snuggle into his chest. 

He whistles, “Nice place”

“Pfft- don't try to make small talk with me after you just finished banging me” you giggle sleepily.

“Fair enough, still, I’m curious about how you can even afford this place” he wonders, hand rubbing up and down your back, only easing you closer to falling asleep.

“Hard work” you reply he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it. 

“That’s my hard working girl” 

you feel the butterflies swarm around your stomach all over again at his small comment. 

“Does this mean we're dating now?” you ask and he gives you a little chuckle.

“Yes, if you want” 

“Good then you're my boyfriend” your eyes are fluttering closed at this point, you merely nuzzle into his chest and he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“Goodnight love” 

“Night Kats..”

[fific7]

Unexpected - Part 2

King Caspian x Reader

Summary: What happens if you push the respectful and well-behaved King Caspian a little too far? You’re about to find out.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with some lemon zest 🍋 Friends to Lovers AU.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including debatable consent at first, mutual adolescent exploration of bodies, loss of virginity and oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My video edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

For the next few days after your reunion, you noticed that Caspian had found various excuses to visit you in the smaller study next to Cornelius’ study, where you were busy trying to bring some order into the chaos that reigned in that equally small space.

He never stayed for too long, but instead just seemed to want to talk about your days as childhood friends and you were happy to indulge him. Cornelius had put his head round your door on a couple of occasions to see what all the noise was about, and withdrew smiling to himself. You got the impression that he was happy you were here and talking and laughing with Caspian.

You also couldn’t help but notice the lingering looks Caspian was lavishing on you. Not sure in your mind if he was just pleased to see a friendly face from the past or…. could he be interested in you? Was that even a possibility?

How could you even try to find out? You couldn’t exactly ask him, could you. “Oh good morning, your Majesty - pray tell me, are you attracted to me?” You shook your head at your fanciful thoughts, put them out of your head! Turning back to the pile of books and manuscripts which you had to catalogue, you let out a long sigh.

“Are you becoming overwhelmed, my lady?” said Cornelius’ voice, and you looked up in surprise to see his kind and smiling face opposite you. How did he do that? Just appear out of nowhere. You smiled back at him, “Oh no, Professor - I just have one or two things on my mind.” He nodded, “The King?” smiling even more broadly. You felt your face burning with a blush and you hastened to say, “No! Not the King. I was just thinking about.. about what I shall wear tomorrow. It is a daily dilemma for ladies.”

Cornelius gave you a mischievous grin, “Ah, I see. Pardon my confusion, my lady. Yes, I can see how that would present problems. Men have it so much easier.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Continuing to think about your actual dilemma once Cornelius had left, you eventually came up with a plan. Unsure how good a plan it was, but you’d try it out for a little while and see if you got a reaction from Caspian. Any reaction.

You’d made a couple of acquaintances amongst the other ladies of the court since you arrived, but you certainly didn’t know them well enough to discuss your plan with them. And besides, in one way or another, all the young ladies at court were trying to win Caspian’s attention so that was another reason you couldn’t confide in them.

Deciding to put this plan of yours into action the next time you were alone with Caspian, you squared your shoulders and delved back into your world of cataloguing.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Caspian was also sighing out loud in his chambers. He put aside the intricate document he was supposed to be reading. He couldn’t concentrate properly, not when all he could think about was her. Wondering if she’d noticed his numerous and reasonless visits to her chamber, interrupting her work to talk about… well, nothing really. Silly things they’d done while they were children. He hadn’t talked to her about one thing though, which had always been at the forefront of his mind. Did she remember it too?

═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°══ ══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°══

In his mind’s eye he was back in the orchard with her, the sun beginning to dip in the sky, dusk fast gathering around them. They hadn’t seen each other for several months. At the time, Caspian had not long turned 14 and she was just about to. He’d gone through puberty the year before and he knew she’d noticed the wispy moustache on his top lip and the fact that he now had a deep voice. She’d asked him about it more than once and his face had burned, he hadn’t known what to say.

That day, they’d both collapsed under one of the pear trees, having exhausted themselves as usual rushing around between the trees like maniacs. They lay on their backs, looking up at the beautiful colours the sky was beginning to turn. She turned her head to him, “Caspian?” He looked over at her, smiling, still getting his breath back, “Yes?” “When you got your moustache, was that you becoming a man?” He felt his face redden as it did whenever she brought up this topic. He looked away but decided to respond to her for once, “Yes, I am a man now.” “As of eight months ago, I became a woman,” she said proudly, before sitting up and pulling down her loose embroidered top, “Look!” Caspian shot up into a sitting position, unashamedly staring at her newly rounded breasts, bared for his eyes only. His mouth dropped open and he felt a distinct stirring in his breeches.

She leant even closer to him, whispering, “I think you should touch them, Caspian! And I want to see yours,” she nodded her head towards his groin. He could hear himself beginning to pant slightly and his hands - seemingly of their own accord - reached out and massaged her breasts. He loved the feeling of their softness and the buds of her nipples against his palms. Then she moved back from him, “C’mon Caspian, it’s your turn!” she demanded, curiosity burning in her eyes. Shyly, Caspian sat up on his knees, unlacing his breeches and pushing them and his underwear halfway down his thighs. His manhood was revealed in all its erect glory.

Staring at it, she squealed, “Oooh! It looks like a big sausage! With a fur cape round its neck!” He snorted in embarrassment, saying “It’s just my dick,” and beginning to pull his breeches back up, but she stopped him by taking hold of his manhood in both hands and examining it closely. “Your dick?” His eyes were closed in pleasure, he couldn’t believe how good it felt to have her hands on him. “That’s what all the men call it,” he managed to say, opening his eyes and looking down to where she held him in a firm grip.

”Oh, okay, I’ll call it that too then.” She squeezed it, then ran her hand up its length before placing her fingers in a ring just under the head. She was staring at the reactions on his face and listening eagerly to the soft low moans he was making as she touched him. “Oh, your dick is so hard!” she exclaimed, “…but the skin feels velvety soft.” “It’s not always hard,” he whispered. “Why’s it hard now, then?” she questioned. He shrugged. “Don’t know,” he lied, just as she slid a hand between his legs and took hold of his balls. She roughly pulled them towards her for a closer look and he yelped in pain, so she loosened her grip on them slightly. “Sorry, Caspian! What are these?” she asked, rolling them in her palm. “My balls,” he muttered. “Well named!” she laughed then suddenly let go of him, leaning back a little. She lifted her skirts and pulled her French knickers down, “This is what mine looks like.” Caspian’s eyes widened once more.

They were both up on their knees again, facing each other. She had quickly taken hold of his dick again, liking the feel of it in her hand. Once again, his eyes closed and he groaned, much to her pleasure. Then he’d reached out and hesitatingly placed two fingers between her legs, starting to explore, and when he found what felt like an opening, his curiosity sparked and he began pushing one of his fingers inside. She jumped back, scolding him, “Caspian! That’s naughty. I think you’re meant to put this…” she tugged on his length, “…inside there, not your finger!”

She shuffled closer to him until their knees were touching, and she pulled his manhood nearer her opening. They gazed at each other, “Shall we try it?” she asked. Caspian really wanted to but…. the decision was made for him as she tried her best to push his dick inside her, eventually managing to get the head and just a little of his shaft inside. She continued unsuccessfully to try and push more of it inside and Caspian was whimpering by now. “Oh! That feels…” she started to say but Caspian suddenly sat back, pulling out of her. “I’m scared we get caught!” he confessed. She shrugged, “You’re a big scaredy-cat!” and instead began firmly rubbing her hand up and down his dick to see what would happen. A little liquid began to leak from his tip and she stared at Caspian’s flushed face and screwed-up eyes with fascination. His own hand joined hers for a few moments, and he encouraged more speed and a firmer grip out of her before his hand fell away. A few short moments later, she found out what the result was.

Caspian gave a loud groan and grasped her arms, then she felt more wetness on her hand. She watched, mesmerised, as thick pearly white liquid shot out of his dick in several spurts, landing on her skin, glistening in the dusk light. She shocked him by leaning down to smell and taste it. Musky, salty. How strange, she thought. Caspian hurriedly wiped himself with his underwear and tucked himself back into his breeches, quickly doing up the laces, while she cleaned her hand on the fabric of her skirt and rearranged the rest of her clothing too.

They looked at each other guiltily.

“We must never speak of this,” whispered Caspian, to which she nodded. “Never, it’s our secret. Swear on it.” “I swear,” he answered, “now hurry, it’s almost dark - they’ll be looking for us soon if we’re not careful.”

He’d taken her hand and they’d run through the apple and pear trees until they reached the castle, sneaking back in, thankfully unnoticed.

═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°══ ══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°══

Caspian jolted out of his daydream. That was the only remotely sexual experience he’d had in his young life, what with having to run for his life and then fight a war. He’d never ever forget it. Nor the girl he’d shared it with.

Sighing again, he tried to ignore the erection he now had and picked up the document again, beginning to read although he couldn’t even remember where he’d got to originally.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You had purposely chosen a dress with a scooped - but not too scooped - neckline. It was all part of your plan. Caspian was almost guaranteed to visit you, he usually appeared in your study at some point every day.

There was a light tap at the door and Caspian came in, smiling at you and wishing you a good morning. Returning the greeting, you got up and went to the small table in the corner to pour some freshly-made lemonade for the two of you. Caspian was perching on the edge of your large and heavy desk which took up most of the room, his long legs apart. You carried the two glasses over to him and walked right between his legs as you offered him his.

You saw his eyes widen and immediately you moved backwards, smiling wide-eyed and innocently at him. “Did you sleep well, Caspian?” He blushed and you hid a smile. Still the same shy boy, you thought. “Uhh… no, not really. I was bothered by dreams which I couldn’t escape. So no, a restless night.”

You gave him a concerned look, “Ohh… I will have to come up with something to help you sleep well, Caspian.” His face became even redder, “I… uhhh… I… well, that would be good. What do you suggest, my lady?” You leaned forward, ostensibly to gaze into his eyes, and those eyes immediately went to your cleavage as you’d intended. Leaning back, your innocent smile in place, you pronounced, “I shall prepare some lavender extract for you, which you should sprinkle on your pillow. It will ease your mind and help you to sleep.”

Caspian took a huge gulp of his lemonade and you couldn’t help but notice how tight a certain part of his trousers had suddenly become. “That sounds most pleasant,” he choked out, “…and now I’d better go! I believe there’s a meeting I must attend.” You pouted, “Oh, such a shame. We’ve barely spoken, Caspian.” He stood up, “Yes, a great shame. We shall talk later!”

And with that, he rushed out of your study.

Sipping your lemonade, a little smile made it onto your lips. That had been… interesting.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Caspian sank down onto his knees in his private bathroom, having had to almost run there after he’d left her study. He’d ripped the lacing on his trousers open and taken himself in hand as soon as the door had closed behind him and now he groaned, looking down at the mess he’d just made.

Wearily, he got to his feet and found a linen cloth, cleaning himself up before going back into the main chamber to find fresh underwear to put on, he’d leaked into the ones he’d had on.

He gazed out of his window, thinking that he’d have to show a lot more self-control in front of her in future. He was supposed to be a King, after all. Not a horny teenage boy. But by Aslan, that’s exactly what he felt like.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

[fellulahh]

MC and Diavolo accidentally switch bodies for the day

Taking a sip of the drink that Solomon had just prepared for her, MC narrowed her eyes at the white haired sorcerer. A small, cheeky grin appeared on his lips as he watched her eagerly.

Finishing the drink, MC set the glass down on the counter as she began to grow suspicious of Solomon. Although he was usually sly, there was something that seemed so cunning about the expression he had.

“What is it?” She asked quietly as he began to chuckle. “Solomon what did you do?!”

“You know that conversation you and I were having the other day?” He asked casually as he sat back in his chair.

Without any further discussion, MC knew exactly what he was referring to. Widening her eyes, she turned her head to gawp at the empty glass in front of her. “You didn’t!” She gasped in horror.

“MC don’t worry about it! It’s fine - I did nothing different than what we discussed.” He explained with a smile, “You said you wanted to get your revenge on the brothers after they all took that lust potion around you so guess what? I used the last of this body switching one in your drink.”

Although Solomon found it terribly amusing that MC had just drunk a syrup that would switch her body with somebody else, she wasn’t so thrilled. It wasn’t the fact that he’d slipped it into her beverage - it was actually her idea in the first place - it was the fact that she was now going to face the effects of the syrup.

“How does it decide whose body I switch with?” She asked quietly, glancing up at Solomon with a worried expression.

“The last person you touched.” He grinned, “I just can’t wait to see which one you turn into!”

“Solomon!” MC suddenly panicked as she shot out of her seat.

“What is it?” He asked confused, “you’ll only change bodies for a day?”

“That’s not the issue here!” MC waved her hands frantically, “the last person I touched was Diavolo!”

“Oh shit...” Solomon mumbled. “You mean?”

“I’m going to turn into Diavolo!” MC cried before letting out a sharp breath, “and Diavolo is going to turn into me!”

“Fuck...” Solomon breathed, trying to weigh up the options on what they should do.

“We have to go to the palace.” MC shook her head, causing Solomon to look at her as though she was being ridiculous. “We need to tell him!”

Sighing, she marched out of the room before she could even give him a choice. Time was against them as they raced through the house. The affects of the syrup could take place at any second. MC silently prayed that Diavolo didn’t have some important meeting with all of the high nobles.

She seethed to herself as they travelled across the Devildom. ‘This is a disaster!’ MC kept repeating to herself until eventually they made it to the palace.

Barbatos let both of them into the castle, surprised to see the state they were in.

“Barb where’s Diavolo?!” MC asked quickly, “I’ve got to see him right now.”

“He’s in his study?” Barbatos arched an eyebrow, “would you like me to call for him?”

“There’s no time!” MC shook her head, “please just take me to him.”

Following her orders - and given how urgent they seemed - Barbatos began walking through the palace at a fast pace. Solomon chose to hang back as MC followed the Prince’s servant.

The palace had never seemed so big as they continued turning left and right down various hallways until eventually MC was lead to a colossal door.

Knocking gently, Barbatos awaited Diavolo’s call before letting MC in. As she practically fell into the room, the Prince stood up from his seat in surprise.

“MC?” He asked concerned, “whatever is the matter?”

“My Lord I am so sorry.” She panted as she leant over, “Solomon gave me a syrup that would make me switch bodies...”

Talking had never seemed to hard as she tried to regain her breath.

“He didn’t realise that you and I were together earlier.” She continued, “I drank it to get my own back on the brothers but Solomon didn’t know that I hadn’t seen them today.”

Diavolo’s eyes never left MC’s face as she frantically tried to explain what was happening.

“He says I will switch bodies with the last person I touched.” MC finished.

Recollecting their catch up they’d had earlier, Diavolo remembered the hug they shared as MC left. “Me?” He asked with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” She repeated with an anxious expression.

“What you mean to tell me is you drank a syrup that would force you to switch bodies with the last person that you touched? And that person is me?” He asked, trying to understand the situation.

“Yes...” MC answered as her face sunk.

Diavolo showed no emotion for a minute as he paced in front of his desk. Fear grew in MC’s body as she anticipated a scolding from the Prince.

But then, as he perched his firm butt on the edge of his desk, he looked up at MC. “So once this syrup takes effect, I will be you for the day and you me?” He requested clarification.

“Yes, My Lord.” She nodded.

“Well this sounds positively exciting!” He suddenly grinned, catching MC by complete surprise.

“I’m sorry...” she knitted her eyebrows, “you’re not angry?”

“Why would I be angry? I have nothing important scheduled for the rest of the week and therefore do not need to worry about you being me.” He explained, “and with me switching bodies with you I can finally grasp an understanding on what it is like to be a human!”

Diavolo seemed to find this incredibly exciting.

“I must say MC, my life was far more boring before you came along.” He chuckled. “I think you and I could have some fun with this. How long has it been since you drank the syrup?”

“About 25 minutes, My Lord.” MC breathed.

“Excellent.” He smirked, “Five more minutes should do it.” As he glanced at her, he noticed the worry in her eyes. “You seem frightened?” He questioned.

“I’m sorry My Lord, I just didn’t expect you to react so...well?” She spoke unsure. “I came here thinking you’d be furious.”

“While this isn’t quite how I imagined spending my afternoon, that’s not to say I am disappointed because of it.” He chuckled, “now come on, MC. Wipe that worry off your face!”

In all truth, Diavolo was just pleased he was involved in such chaos without being the one who orchestrated it.

“Now...lets not spend the afternoon fretting.” He smirked, “it’s time we had some fun!”

-

What did they get up to?

Now being in Diavolo’s body, MC decides to give Barbatos some super weird orders. “Can you get out and buy me some peaches without the pit?” “My Lord, all peaches have pits?” “Then find some that dont!”

“Barbatos will you carry me to the kitchen please?” “I’m sorry my Lord but I don’t think I will be able to support your weight...” “how rude! Would you speak to your King like that?”

After about ten minutes though, Barbatos guesses exactly what’s happened

“How did you know it was me?!” MC questions, “because Lord Diavolo always uses his fluffy pen to write out shopping lists! You used the dip pen - a rookie mistake.” “Ah.”

MC walks into Diavolo’s chamber and while alone, takes a sneak peak down his shirt, ‘it’s even better than I imagined!’

Meanwhile Diavolo - in MC’s body - remains sat at his desk trying to calm his mind. ‘Well maybe just one feel...’ he thinks to himself before quickly grabbing his newly accustomed breasts

“Oh my!” He grins to himself

FaceTimes Lucifer, “Hey cutie, how are you doing?” “MC?? Why are you at Lord Diavolo’s?” “We’re talking about you.”

MC pulls a prank on Mammon by messaging him, “hey Mammon, Lord Diavolo’s pretty mad at you...” “ha! If he was it’d be Lucifer messaging me. Prove it.” *MC sends a selfie in Diavolo’s body looking pissed off* “o—oh shit what did I do?!”

Diavolo goes to the House of Lamentation and tells all of the brothers that he (MC) is in love with Diavolo so they should all stop pining over her

He also does whatever he can to make Lucifer blush while in the human’s body. He knows she’s the only one capable of making his heart go soft. “Did you know your hair looks sexy pushed back?” “MC, please.”

Back at the castle, MC’s ordering for a new portrait to be painted of her (Diavolo) to hang above the throne. And of course, the pose she chooses is her dabbing

She also sends a selfie to Solomon, “Hello Harry Potter, it’s Lord Diavolo here to tell you u nasty”

Afterwards, she calls Simeon to tell him “It’s Diavolo here - I’m really sorry to tell you this but MC’s my favourite exchange student.”

When it comes to going to the toilet, MC tries incredibly hard not to look down but as soon as she catches a glance of Diavolo Jr she screams “oh my GOD”

She posts an inspiring article on the RAD newspaper with “words we can live by” and its ‘sex drugs and sausage rolls’

While not pranking the brothers, Diavolo’s ‘testing’ what it’s like to be in a human body. *punches wall* ‘interesting...that was painful*

He momentarily forgets he’s MC and has some of Mammon’s spicy noodles before immediately regretting it ‘oh HELL that’s hot!’

Accidentally mentions something to Lucifer that only Diavolo would know and the eldest brother’s like “...how did you know that, MC?”

When Luke gets excited to see MC (or in this case Diavolo), the Prince tells the angel that he (MC) is going to marry Diavolo and Luke runs off screaming “YOU CAN’T MARRY A DEMON!”

If MC gets approached by anyone and they ask any questions, she answers them very ‘seriously’ “My Lord, I hear there are talks of the exchange program being extended. Do you have anything to say on this?” “Yes. Shakira Shakira. No further questions please.”

[oumaheroes]

hii its bougie <3 if you're still taking hc requests, i was wondering if you'd have thoughts on something that's been on my mind for a while. i was interested in the nuance to english culture due to regional differences. eg.,dinner being called "tea" in the north of england, rugby being more popular in the south, the difference in how scones with jam and cream are enjoyed in Devon and Cornwall?? or how certain english accents are perceived as... "less attractive" i guess (the black country accents are unpopular apparently?) -- you'd probably know more about these particularities than me ;u;

i was wondering how these cultural differences might map onto hws England's character, and how they might influence his attitudes and behaviours. because there's such a clearly defined stereotype of the english that i think shape people's expectations of what the english are like, i usually think that Arthur usually consciously acts according to what counts as positive interpretations of himself. however, i love nuanced and somewhat subversive interpretations of his character, and am very curious if you might have any ideas on how these kind of internal regional differences might shape him.

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

Bougieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee <3

I’m not gonna lie this sent me down a RABBIT HOLE of thoughts, so hang on tight cos we're gonna get messy.

Accents:

Let’s start with my personal favourite, so excuse me whilst I geek out for a second. I’ve gone into this area already in this headcanon, but I personally see England being a very proud little dragon regarding English accents, those both native and non-native to the British Isles. Focusing just on accents within England for this post, the way Arthur himself sees them, (regarding class and general preference), comes a lot down to how I see him feeling about language and the unification of England in general.

England is a tiny country. It’s really teeny, compared to some, and yet holds an incredible number of regional accents and dialects (from digging about the internet for a good source, I keep finding numbers ranging from 37 to 43). There are a number of reasons for this, but the one that I love the most is that accents are influenced by the previous/ influential other languages spoken in a given area. Accents on the East of England are more influenced by Viking invaders, both phonologically and via the dialectal words used, and accents/ dialects in the West are more influenced by Welsh, for example.

Accents and dialects tell the history of a place, all who ever came there and influenced it to some degree. The map of English accents is a patchwork quilt of old cultures and people now lost to time, but their ways of speaking have been preserved in the modern tongue. The old English kingdoms might now be mere counties- Kent, Essex, Sussex, East Anglia, etc- they may not have their own influence or language these days as they used to, but their old ways have been imprinted on their people of today whether they know it or not and they carry pieces of the past in their words and how they speak them. Older speakers of the Northern English dialects liek the Yorkshire dialect still use ‘thou/thee’ where this has fallen out in other areas, the Midlands and parts of the South-East still keep the ‘-n’ ending for possessive pronouns (‘yourn’ instead of ‘yours’, ‘ourn’ instead of ‘ours’), and there’s even some linguistic research into how Brittonic, the ancestor of Modern Welsh, influenced English structure and phonology (for references, see notes at the end).

Back to England the person (to contain myself slightly), his regional accents are a story of himself, his history being kept alive in all of its variety every day. He doesn’t hold a classist view of a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ accent because he knows why they’re all there- what languages and people influenced them and how these events affected him- the older generations now lost and forgotten being kept alive in the smallest of phonemes.

Every dialect, every accent, and every language tells the story of a people, from the smallest phonological marker right up to a language as a whole and England takes comfort and pride in his dialects and accents’ longevity and variety. He is as much of the North as he is the South, as much of the East as the West and a patchwork man born of patchwork cultures it makes no sense for him to favour one particular accent over another.

That being said, he is aware that there is a common cultural stance on accents as well as an opinion regarding ‘ugly’ ones, ‘common’ ones, and ‘classy’ ones, but he himself doesn’t partake in these ideas. I like to think that a nation takes on the speech of the people and the area they’re in, matching the person they speak to or the area they visit to relate to their people. So, for me a Chav Arthur exists as much as a Brummie one does, or a Scouser, or a Geordie, or a Cockney. They’re all English, and thus they’re all a part of him.

Class

I have to include this one, if only to touch on it lightly regarding accents and dialects. Class does influence which words you speak, arguably just as much as which accent (this is known as a sociolect). Although I said that England adopts the accent of whatever area he’s in, or whomever he’s talking to if they’re English, the class people are will also affect which words he choses to use.

Here’s a short example from here:

'It is pudding for the upper class. Dessert is sometimes used by upper middles, but afters and sweets very clearly put you below stairs.'

Have some more!

Upper class: Spectacles, Lavatory or loo, Die, Napkin, Sofa

Middle class: Glasses, Toilet , Pass on, Serviette, Settee or couch

(Working class is a mix but harder to find sources for).

This is where England treads a fine line. It could be that he again adopts more of a class lexicon regarding who he is speaking to, matching his people word for word. However, England is not unaware of the affects of class, regardless of how he himself feels, and also although class snobbery and divide frustrate him, he cannot deny using this understanding to benefit himself, which also conforms to how his own people behave. (I myself have, many times, diluted and filtered my speech to be seen as ‘better’).

Want to be seen as more reliable and powerful? Want to be taken more seriously? RP and Estuary English (a lot more so these days), hold undeniable sway and England is not above adopting a manner of speaking to come across ‘better’ or more polite, or a more ‘common’ accent to fit in with the working classes. I think of England as leaning more towards a working-class mindset- he’s very hands on, very up for and used to manual labour and this particular English class has always made up the bulk of his population. It makes no sense for a nation, who represents all of their people, to have a snide view or a preference for a particular group and England as a person I see is someone who does not enjoy the foppery and false airs of aristocracy.

That being said, England is an intelligent man. He knows how to work a room and use a crowd to his advantage, knows what must be done and what he needs to do to achieve a goal and if this entails courting the upper classes for a time then he will do so. He’s adepts at switching himself like a chameleon, blending his behaviours, accent, and dialect to match who he’s talking to to achieve a goal or to fit in with someone’s perception of him, or to gain influence or prestige. He also doesn’t hate his upper classes- they are of him too, and the middle and working class have their own prejudices and ideas against the others. But he doesn’t adopt a stereotypical distain of lower classes because to him, it really doesn’t make much sense.

Abroad, this need to cultivate a particular perception defiantly comes under greater pressure. RP and Estuary English are more well know, more heard and taught, and more recognisably ‘British’, and so these are what he uses when speaking English to other nations or foreigners, either wanting to uphold an image of himself (more so in the Victorian/ Edwardian period than nowadays) or just for the ease of being understood.

Regional Differences

Okay, this one is a lot more fun. Does England put in his milk first or last when making tea? Does he put jam first, or clotted cream when having a scone? Does he have chips with gravy, or curry sauce? Does he have dinner at 6, or 9? To marmite, or not to marmite.

Ah, that is the question, and England does not know the answer. Does he do what he does because that’s what he likes, or because that’s what his people do? He didn’t grow up with these habits, after all, they’re all relatively recent in his lifetime, and so these habits are defiantly things he cultures for a particular audience.

I’m not really sure if the above preferences are class based, (well, milk first when making tea is argued to be, but I can't find any sources I'd consider entirely credible. I put the ones I did find in the notes below, in case any one's interested), so it’s hard to get a sense of which one to use. Overall, it doesn’t matter which you do and neither is right or wrong, but the English feel strongly about them, one way or another, and often Arthur the man isn’t sure at all which one he himself actually thinks is better.

Food in another sense though is something he can be surer of. A Cornish pastie not from Cornwall is not worth eating, nor is a Bakewell tart outside of Bakewell. England can be very particular about this sort of thing and enjoys maintaining and supporting the ‘original’ flavour or recipe of a thing where he can, considering this to be the ‘best’. Sally Lunn Buns from Bath, Gypsy tarts from Kent, Eccles Cakes from Eccles.

England wants to preserve his food and culture and has what could be considered a snobbish view on the ‘best’ way of creating or eating his national foods. Some things he is more lenient with: he will eat cheddar cheese, whether or not it is from Cheddar, same from Cumberland sausages not from Cumbria. But he certainly has a preference and he is not afraid to voice this when asked for his opinion.

Okay, we're done

Phew! This had me digging out my old linguistic student brain. To anyone who has made it this far down, gosh golly miss molly thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the ride, and especially @prickyy who was kind enough to want to hear my opinions about all of this <3

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

Notes:

Brittonic influence on English:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brittonicisms_in_English

https://scholar.google.co.uk/scholar_url?url=http://journals.mountaintopuniversity.edu.ng/English%2520Language/Celtic%2520Influences%2520in%2520English%2520A%2520Re-evaluation.pdf&hl=en&sa=X&ei=2ohDYdq3BoWImwHn6oWQAg&scisig=AAGBfm29zTF0FBCpd1KqDiAbjM-0X7nfoA&oi=scholarr (PDF)

https://scholar.google.co.uk/scholar_url?url=http://www.oppi.uef.fi/wanda/unicont/abstracts/14ICEHL_MF.pdf&hl=en&sa=X&ei=2ohDYdq3BoWImwHn6oWQAg&scisig=AAGBfm3UvOXbJEb0b51J73eBnTJvgGaQOA&oi=scholarr (PDF)

Sociolects and class distinction within language in English:

https://languageawarenessbyrosalie.weebly.com/social-dialects.html

https://www.grin.com/document/313937

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/U_and_non-U_English

Milk in tea first and the potential class reason:

https://www.theteaclub.com/blog/milk-in-tea/

https://qmhistoryoftea.wordpress.com/2017/05/11/milk-in-first-a-miffy-question/

[spine-buster]

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | two

A/N: Thank you guys for all the positive feedback on Part One!  I’m so happy you guys are enjoying the series thus far.

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

                                                                  *     *     *     *     *

Brock Boeser was intoxicated by the feel of Grace’s lips.  It was all he could think about and all he could feel every time he was alone and closed his eyes.  Well, that was a lie – that wasn’t all he felt.  Sometimes he could feel the weight of Grace’s body on his lap, like when they would make out like teenagers on each other’s couches after hanging out or before hanging out or during hanging out – any time, really.  Sometimes he could feel her long hair sprawled across his chest from when they lay in bed together.  Sometimes he could hear her giggle or see her smile or hear her voice being the kindest, most polite and gentle person on planet Earth to everyone and anyone she’d meet.  

For what it was worth, Grace Gillespie was intoxicated by the feel of Brock’s body.  It was all she could think about every time she was alone, and she found herself dreaming about the next time she’d be able to feel it.  His strong arms with his toned biceps; his abs, defined by a work schedule and sport that took up most of his time; his thick thighs…but what she loved most had to be his back.  It was weird for her to say, but it was.  It was the definition – she could see every muscle.  She could trace every bump with her fingertips and make him shiver.  The entirety, all of him, was just so…beautiful.  

It was Grace who had inadvertently given it away, so to speak – them seeing each other – when she uploaded a story of herself at the Canucks season opener.  The rumours started in no time.  The story was screen-recorded and posted on every blog imaginable because Brock Boeser was, well, Brock Boeser.  He was hot, and nice, and sweet, and every girl in Vancouver with even just a passing interest in hockey wanted to hook up with him.  It was also compounded by the fact that in the 90s the Gillespie’s put in a bid to own the Canucks.  Grace just tuned it all out.  Brock Boeser Dating a Billionaire’s Daughter!  Those who loved alliteration must have loved the headlines.  In any case, there were more important things to worry about, and more important things to dedicate her time to.  

Grace was at work when she got a call from Brock.  That meant the team flight had landed and he was probably still at the airport or had just gotten into his apartment.  She liked how her heart skipped a beat whenever he called.  “D’you want to meet some of my friends?”

That question took her for a loop.  “Who?”

“My friend Elias, but we call him Petey.”

“You mean Elias Pettersson?” she clarified.  

“Yeah,” he giggled slightly.  “He’s been fancying himself a chef lately.  He lives with his best friend Svea.  He wants us over for dinner.”

“Is he making Swedish food?”

“Don’t know.  I’ll confirm with him.  But is that a yes?”

“Well, if he’s cooking…”

***

“You told her what?”

“Petey—”

“Boes, I can’t fucking cook!” Elias exclaimed once it dawned on him what Brock had just done.  “Why would you invite her here?!”

“I wasn’t thinking—”

“Clearly not!”

“What’s all the commotion?” Svea asked as she emerged from “her side” of the apartment, hearing the screaming between the two men.  It wasn’t exactly new, to hear Brock and Elias screaming at each other, but it was usually over video games.  This sounded like something different.  

“Brock just invited his new girlfriend over to our place for dinner,” Elias huffed.

Svea furrowed her brows.  “What’s wrong with that?  We’ve been wanting to meet her for a long time, Elias.”

“Brock said I’d be cooking,” Elias deadpanned.

Svea turned to Brock with an emotionless look on her face.  “Are you dumb?!” she exclaimed.

“Sveeeeeeaaaaaaaa,” Brock pleaded, his hands clasped together, about to get on his hands and knees in front of her.  

“You need to fix this Svea.  I can’t – I can’t – I can barely even boil an egg!  What made you think I’d be able to cook a dinner to impress a girl I’m not even trying to impress?!” Elias demanded.

“Shut it, the both of you,” Svea said sternly, raising her hands slightly.  “When is she coming here?”

“Saturday night, after our game against Toronto.”

She took a deep breath.  “I’m going to make sausage stroganoff.  You better bring me a good bottle of wine,” she glared at Brock, “and you better go to the Swedish bakery to get the good Swedish sausage,” she directed towards Elias.

Brock fell down to his knees.  “Thank you Svea.  Thank you thank you thank you.”

“Yeah yeah,” she waved them off.  “Now if you’re going to play video games, keep your voices down.  I’m studying.”

When he heard her shut the door to the den, Brock looked at Elias.  “When are you gonna marry her?”

Elias huffed.  “She’s my best friend, Brock.”

***

“So they’re best friends from Sweden,” Grace wanted to make sure she got everything right before she met Elias Pettersson and Svea Nilsson for the first time.  “But you’re saying they’re in love with one another and don’t know it?”

“Exactly,” Brock nodded his head.  “You’ll see it within, like, a minute of meeting them.  They’re just…I don’t know, dumb.”

Grace giggled slightly as Brock pressed the number for Elias’s floor in the elevator.  The doors shut and soon they were speeding up.  “Does anyone else on your team know about us?”

“Some of the guys I’m closer with do,” Brock said.  “Troy, Thatcher, Marky…they all know about you.  Do your friends know about me?”

Grace snorted.  “I told them about you after that first night at Starbucks.”

Brock laughed, leaning down to give her a quick kiss.  “That eager, eh?”

“When you know, you know,” Grace said.  “You know, don’t you?”

Brock nodded.  “I know.”

That was the beauty of what they had going.  They just fell in to everything.  There was Starbucks, then there was exchanging of their numbers, then there were texts back and forth, and phone conversations, and the rush of everything else.  It was quick but it was organic.  Nothing was rushed.  They were going at the pace they wanted to go.  There wasn’t even a heart-to-heart sit down or discussion about “where they stand relationship-wise” or “Am I into this more than you?”.  It was just…understood.  They knew.  They were exclusive.  Neither was seeing anybody else.  Neither wanted to see anybody else.  It was what Grace knew a healthy relationship should blossom into.  It was what Brock knew he wanted from another person.  

Elias opened the door to the apartment, greeting Grace sweetly before walking them in to the kitchen and dining room, where the table had already been set – no doubt done by Svea, too.  Grace noticed that Svea, the roommate, was the one cooking instead of Elias, and she was absolutely mortified.  She made sure to make her way into the kitchen once Brock punched Elias in the gut about something.  

“Hi I’m Svea,” Svea introduced herself sweetly as she was whisking a sauce in a deep saucepan.  She had on an apron and everything.  “It’s really nice to meet you.  I’m sorry that I look like a mess right now.”

“I’m so sorry – Brock said Elias was cooking tonight because he fancied himself a chef – I didn’t want to put any pressure on you—”

“Oh no no no!  Don’t worry!” Svea waved her off.  “God, are you kidding?  I wouldn’t want Elias to make you anything.  He might give you food poisoning.”

Grace giggled.  “So what’s on the menu tonight, anyway?”

“Sausage stronganoff,” Svea replied.  “It’s a Swedish dish.  Elias’s favourite, actually.  I thought I should make you Swedish food.  You’re not vegetarian, are you?”

“No,” Grace said, smiling from ear to ear.  “Sounds delicious.”

***

“They’re definitely in love,” Grace said once she and Brock walked out of the front doors of Elias’s condo building.  Brock turned towards her dramatically, his eyebrows raised, about to throw his arms up in the air.  “It’s so obvious.  So obvious.”

“I told you!” he exclaimed.  

“Why aren’t they dating yet?” she asked.

“Beats the shit out of me,” Brock said, shaking his head.  “But they’re meant to be together.  It’ll happen eventually.  I just don’t want to wait until I’m, like, forty to see it.”

Grace smiled, and there was a moment of silence between the two as they walked along the street.  “Can I ask you a question?  About things happening eventually?”

“Sure…”

“D’you want to meet my dad?”

The words hung in the air as Brock considered the magnitude of what Grace was asking him.  “You want me to meet your dad?”

Grace nodded.  “I think he’ll really like you,” she began.  “And my dad always, always wants to meet my boyfriends.”

“So you’ve had loads of other boyfriends?” he quipped.

Grace went to punch him in the gut, much like Elias did just hours earlier, but Brock dodged her easily and ended up grabbing her hand instead.  “Of course I’ll meet your dad,” he said, softer this time, as he stepped into her personal space and wrapped his other arm around her body.  “I’d love to.”

“Listen, I know I don’t have to warn you about what you’re gonna see when you get into the house, but—”

“Shhhh…” Brock cooed, bringing a finger up to her lips before leaning down to kiss her.  “When you want me there?”

“How does Sunday Night Football sound?”

***

Brock had never seen such a beautiful modern mansion so big in his life.  He’d trekked up to North Vancouver, to the address Grace gave him, and came face to face with a mansion overlooking the water.  It was stunning.  Fit for a billionaire, Brock thought.  He wondered if Grace grew up in this house or if it was new.  It looked new.  And judging by its style –a bungalow – it was fit for someone who needed access to everything they needed on the same floor.  Someone living with Parkinson’s, of course.  

He rang the doorbell.  After about a minute, the door opened and an unfamiliar face greeted him.  “You must be Brock?” the woman asked, the door still only half-open.

“Yes ma’am.”

She opened the door fully.  “I’m Angeline.  I’m one of Mr. Gillespie’s caregivers,” she informed him, stepping aside so he could step into the massive foyer.  Brock could hear the TV on in the distance and the clinking of some dishes in a faraway kitchen.  “You’ll also meet Dana and Michelle, Mr. Gillespie’s others.  He’s been expecting you.  He’s been very excited to meet you.”

Brock slipped off his shoes, making sure not to drop the bottle of wine he brought (for reasons unknown; it wasn’t like Hamish could drink – it was just that him mom taught him never to show up to someone’s house empty-handed).  “Oh, really?” he asked.

Angeline nodded her head.  “He hasn’t been quiet about it since Grace said it to him.  Plus, he’s a big Canucks fan.  Let me bring you to him.”

Brock followed Angeline through the house until they got to the family room.  It was massive, like everything else in the house, with lots of space.  When he walked in, he saw Grace and Hamish.  Their backs were to him, so he was able to observe them before they saw him.  Grace was sitting right beside him in his chair, holding his hand as they paid attention to the football game just about to start on the screen.  Grace was making some comment about the teams.  Brock could see Hamish turn his head slowly to look at his daughter and nod.  Everything about the set-up – Grace, Hamish, their positions, what was on TV, everything – reminded him of he and his dad.  Even the handholding.  Brock didn’t think he even held his dad’s hand as much when he was a kid out in public than he had the last few months – few years, really.  Duke was really into the handholding.  Brock could never, would never deny him.

Brock was soon snapped out of his trance by the sound of footsteps.  One of the other caregivers walked right past him holding a plate of puréed food, bringing it to Grace.  It was only then that Brock noticed the TV dinner table beside her.  “She likes to feed him whenever she’s here,” Angeline said, noticing Brock’s staring.  “If you need any help you can always call.  We will be somewhere in the house,” she said before walking away.

Brock took a deep breath and walked towards Grace and Hamish.  Upon hearing his footsteps, Grace looked his way.  The smile on her face widened ten times over when she saw it was him.  “Hi Brock,” she said softly, getting up from her seat quickly to greet him.  She kissed him quickly behind her father’s back (quite literally) before moving and settling back into her chair.  “Dad, Brock is here to meet you.”

Brock stepped into Hamish’s line of vision.  So that he wouldn’t have to strain his neck to look up, Brock bent down on his knees.  “Hi Hamish,” he held out his hand for a handshake.  Slowly, Hamish’s hand came up to shake it.  “It’s very nice to meet you.  Grace has told me so much about you.”

“It’s…nice to…meet you…too,” he said, his words coming out slowly but surely.  “You…like football?”

Brock smiled.  “I love football.”

“Minnesota?”

“Minnesota.”

A smile crept onto Hamish’s face.  “Good.”

***

Hamish wanted ice cream, so Grace got up and went to the kitchen, leaving him with Brock as they watched the football game together.  Minnesota was winning, which made her dad pretty happy.  And despite everything, she could tell he liked Brock.  She knew he would – everybody liked Brock, he was the sweetest – but it made her happy knowing that he liked him.  There were some ex-boyfriends of hers that he didn’t like.  Some ex-boyfriends he straight-up disapproved of.  Hamish had strong opinions and vocalized them always, and the Parkinson’s didn’t stop that.  He didn’t create a three-billion-dollar company by being quiet.

When she finished putting the ice cream in the bowl, she began to head back to the family room.  Dana stopped her momentarily to tell her that her dad’s bed was ready, whenever he was tired and needed to change into his pajamas.  Grace thanked her, and before she could even step foot into the family room, she heard Brock’s voice.  “Back straight, Mr. Gillespie.  And let me get the straw.”

She stopped in her tracks so neither could see her.  She watched from the side as Brock took the glass of water her dad had been drinking with dinner and brought it up to his lips, steadying the straw so it faced him.  “Take your time, Mr. Gillespie.  It’s alright.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Mr. Gillespie.  I’m used to this.  I’m not sure if Grace told you but my dad has Parkinson’s as well,” Brock said.

Hamish seemingly forgot about the water and straw.  “He does?”

“Yes sir.  And I help take care of him too, in the off-season.  Just like Grace helps take care of you.”

Hamish brought a hand up slowly and placed it on Brock’s arm that was resting on the arm rest.  “Does your father…ever speak…of his body…betraying him?”

Grace watched as Brock took a deep breath in.  “All the time,” he nodded.  “Ever since he got diagnosed.”

Hamish nodded slowly.  “You and Grace…” he began, “taking care…of your parents.  You’ll…you’ll look after one another.”

Brock nodded again, more assertively this time.  “We will,” he said, bringing the water and straw closer to Hamish.  He pursed his lips to start drinking, and Brock brought his other hand up to steady Hamish’s head and make sure it was as upright as possible.  Hamish’s hand didn’t leave Brock’s forearm.

[a-libra-writes]

Salt & Snow - Chapter 6

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader (?)

Summary: Ned finally returns to his childhood home, to the happiness of his siblings and Y/N ... though she’s also beside herself with nerves. As it turns out, the two of them are awkward teenagers.

Use this chrome extension to replace “Y/N” with a different name :)

“That’s the last of it, milord.” The servant tightened the leather straps on the wooden trunk, ensuring they were secure. Once satisfied, he nodded to the guide that would be taking the young Lord Stark down the mountain. The man was withered, but he expertly steered his mules, or so they said. Ned hadn’t realized how many possessions he’d collected in his years in the Eyrie, and felt bad for making the beasts carry so much.

The old mountain guide said it was fine, and it wouldn’t unbalance them. “You worry about stayin’ on that mule, milord. When’s the last time you descended?”

He thought about it. “Four years, mayhaps more.”

“Aye, it’s much the same. It’s still spring, it will warm quickly as we go down.” The old man guided him to one of the mules, a shaggy, dark brown one with long ears. Ned thought it was cute in an ugly way, and climbed up. He kept his eyes forward, ignoring how the Eyrie hung above them. He remembered the first time he climbed up here, terrified he’d fall the entire way, and then afraid the Eyrie would somehow fall from the sky and plummet to the ground.

I’ll be the one doing the plummeting, if this beast missteps. Ned was mostly, probably confident that wouldn’t happen. He wondered what sort of mule they gave Robert, the beast of a man. He couldn’t imagine his friend sitting quietly for the better part of the day. That thought made him smile a little, and sigh. Robert left a month ago, and now it was his turn. It was a bittersweet goodbye to Robert and then to Lord Arryn. The first month I couldn’t stop thinking about Winterfell, how I wanted to go back. It hurts to leave now.

It hurt, but it was time to go. He wanted to see his family again, to see Winterfell, and the godswood, and Wintertown and the forest surrounding them. He’d smell pines and fresh earth again — gods know the Eyrie sorely lacked in both — and the animals that ran through those woods. He wondered what had changed, what was the same.

Suddenly, Ned recalled a letter where Y/N described the repairs on one of the towers, the old one that was slowly crumbling. That made him remember the last one he sent, and he covered his face with a groan.

“Doing well, milord?” The guide asked, looking back. “Don’t look down.”

Ned merely nodded, glad the guide and the other servants were too busy navigating to notice his stupid face. Why had he written that? Why did he send it? She must be think he was an utter fool. She hadn’t even sent anything back yet.

No, letters are slow to the Eyrie, and I’m leaving, besides — perhaps it was lost.

The thought of Lord Arryn receiving it and sending it back was mortifying, even if the man would never read it. For days Ned’s mind had been racing about Robert’s departure, his own journey, and the stupid words he wrote down. He’d repeated them so many times in his head, hoping he was misremembering.

He groaned and laid his head on the neck of the mule. It smelled awful, but he stayed there. Y/N must have thought him a complete fool, how would he face her once he came home? It would be a long, long journey.

What in the seven hells did he mean by that?

Y/N stared at the words, her eyes running over them, which was a pointless act. She’d memorized these lines in particular, able to recall them in spite of her attempts to keep busy. She hadn’t responded, because how could she? Anytime she sat down and began to dab her quill, the butterflies battered against her stomach. She’d set her quill on the page, watching the ink soak into the paper, but Y/N only managed a few sentences before fumbling, misspelling a word, dripping ink everywhere and just giving up. She’d thrown several pages into the fire already.

I’m being ridiculous, I’m overthinking. Aren’t I? Hasn’t he always said kind things to me? Why is this different?

A week ago, Y/N dug through her box of letters saved over the years, hoping to assure herself. That was a mistake. She read through things she’d forgotten, phrases she remembered, looked over the little drawings he attempted, and her butterflies became relentless. She had to put the letters away and spent the entire day flustered and distracted.

She rubbed at her face and sighed heavily. She put the letter out of sight, knowing it wouldn’t be out of mind for a while. She ought to stop procrastinating, to send something back already; it’d been almost three weeks. Or was it four? She’d been procrastinating with everything imaginable — long boring books, needlework, studying maps, playing music, even riding.

I have to answer eventually. I really am thinking too much. Just write something safe! Something boring!

Instead of doing that, Y/N left her room and looked for something to do. Perhaps if she could talk about her feelings it would help, but she couldn’t. Not even to Lyanna. Her friend had stopped reading the letters, preferring to send her own, and Y/N was sure they weren’t as frequent… That, and she couldn’t imagine letting anyone read what she wrote or drew now.

Is it strange, how often we write? Has anyone noticed?  A little voice nagged at Y/N. She and Ned were well past the age of innocent friendly correspondence. She didn’t speak much about it, secretly worried she’d be told to stop. The idea of getting “caught” wasn’t pleasant, but the idea of stopping was worse. The correspondence had become a comfort, a way to raise her spirits, warmth and confidence in her heart. She understood how some would find that emotion improper.

A servant hurried past Y/N, nearly hitting her and knocking her right out of her thoughts. The boy called an apology and kept running. In the great hall, she saw half a dozen men moving boxes, and one of the elder servants giving them orders. Savory smells came from the kitchen, and peaking inside, Y/N saw the cooks and their girls busy chopping and stewing.

She tried to recall the last time Winterfell was this abuzz. The death of Lady Stark cast a dreary curtain over the castle, and while it was gradually lifting, a feast still felt out of place. Brandon was away again, but there was never a big to-do for his return.

“Found you!” Lyanna called to her, and Y/N jumped. It was absurd how much she’d been lost in her head as of late. She was glad Lyanna didn’t tease her; instead, the girl asked, “Why is everyone so restless today?”

“I was just thinking that. Did you see the kitchens? I can’t imagine why we’d need so much sausage and stew.”

“They’re making dessert, too! I’d ask my father, but I can’t find him anywere.” As they talked, Lyanna and Y/N walked outside to one of the many yards inside Winterfell’s walls. Just like inside, there was a flurry of activity, things being moved and cleaned. Lyanna said half the horses had been taken, perhaps on a hunt for fresh stag. A sudden thought struck her, and she turned on her heels to face Y/N, nearly knocking the girl over in the process. “Y/N, what if… what if my father finally decided—?”

“He didn’t,” Y/N replied instantly. “He would tell you, Lyanna. It won’t be a surprise. Maybe something happened and he’s gathering some bannermen on short notice; maybe it’s about Brandon’s wedding. He has been gone for the better part of a month.”

“That’s all true,” Lyanna said, although she didn’t sound comforted. “Perhaps Father is entertaining some ladies for him. Oh, gods, we’ll have to make smalltalk with them…”

They sat on one of the many carts strewn about the yard, following the activity. Predictably, Y/N’s mind wandered to Ned, and she kept her sigh from escaping. She glanced at Lyanna, half-listening to her friend chatter about a hedge knight that visited months ago. He showed off some jousting in the yard for their amusement, and Lyanna was still enamored. Y/N’s thoughts were wholly preoccupied with the terrifying idea of telling her about the letters, the ones that had gradually become far less proper and more personal.

Suddenly Lyanna asked, “Did you have any plans today?”

“I have a feeling if I did, you’d pull me away.” Y/N said. “Why?”

“Do you still have your old brown cloak?”

Those grey eyes were gleaming with some sort of mischief. Perhaps it was the restlessness of the people around them, or her own anxious thoughts… but rather than steer away from trouble, Y/N turned toward it.

There were small collections of cottages directly outside the walls of Winterfell, mostly farmers and butchers who directly served the castle, and offered board to travelers during the large feasts. But if someone really wanted to find something interesting, they’d go to Wintertown. These were the more prosperous smallfolk, the merchants, innkeeps, blacksmiths, and so on. There was even a small sept, although most Northern townspeople had little use for it. Y/N had come here only a dozen times; to go, she and Lyanna would need an escort, and Brandon wasn’t eager to follow two silly girls around.

As far as they were concerned, the matter of an escort was silly now that they were women. Lyanna had no fear as she put on an old cotton dress and her grey cloak, while Y/N wore her brown and black dress she saved for riding and a deep blue cloak. Y/N tucked her pearl and jewelry away, and Lyanna pulled her own dark brown hair out of its braid until it was all around her shoulders, wild and free. The girls snuck quietly out into the yard, avoiding servants and guards, then drew their hoods up once they reached the gates. They waited, then Y/N pointed. Three sworn guards were distracted with a complaining merchant, and they slipped past the gate.

Once outside, they kept their hoods up, but giggled to one another. After walking a mile, they came across a farmer on the way to Wintertown, and asked if they could ride in his cart. The old man squinted at them, trying to focus his gaze.

“Are ye girls the swineherder’s daughters? Jeyne and … Milly, was it?”

“That’s our names. Can you take us to town?” Lyanna asked, putting on a false voice. When the old man agreed, she grinned so broadly, Y/N had to nudge her and give her a warning look. They hopped into the back of the cart and chatted while it swayed and hobbled along. The last time, it was an hour of walking before a cart passed by.

It’s good to see her like this, happy again. Y/N thought, glancing to her friend as Lyanna chatted. It’s been a dreary six moons. Or has it been longer?

Lyanna hadn’t been herself the whole time. Since her mother died, everything was bleaker. For the first moon, she just wanted to stay inside. After that she’d go out riding for hours at a time, and for once, Lord Stark didn’t scold her for it. Sometimes she’d rage, pick fights with Brandon or a guardman’s boy. Sometimes she’d just stay in bed. Those days were always the bad ones, Y/N knew, and she’d stay with her, writing or drawing or doing needlework while Lyanna laid there.

They’d get far worse than a scolding if they were caught at this game, but she just wanted Lyanna to be happy again. Wintertown was in sight, and they thanked the old man and hopped off his cart, too excited to wait for his mules to take them any farther. Y/N took Lyanna’s arm so they’d at least stay together, and they were off.

Just like the last time they visited, the town was buzzing. Thoughts of Ned’s words and Lyanna’s sadness quickly faded in the back of Y/N’s mind as they followed whatever interested them. A girl half their height was herding a group of sheep through the middle of a wide street, a woman was selling bolts of impossibly colorful fabric and thread, a blacksmith was loudly working on a sword. The girls watched all of it.

“Wait!” Y/N patted Lyanna’s arm excitedly, distracting her from the molten-hot red sword and the hammer that was beating down on it. “Do you see that?” She pointed.

Lyanna squinted. “That stall over there?”

“Yes, let’s hurry! Maybe he still has some!”

“What are you talking about?” Lyanna laughed, but followed along. She quickly realized why Y/N was so excited: There was a variety of colorful, fresh vegetables, but more importantly… fruit.

“You buying?” The man asked warily, mistaking them for the lowborn girls they were dressed as. Back in their bedchamber, Y/N had to remind Lyanna to tuck away her direwolf pin. “I’m selling, not giving. You girls got coin?”

Y/N ignored his tone and asked, “Are these from White Harbor? My father worked the docks.”

“That so? He on one of the merman’s ships, or the ray’s?”

“The manta ray, at the Whitetide docks.”

The man grinned, showing some missing teeth. He nodded his head like he was familiar with this mystery sailor. “Aye, with Lord Caspian’s fleet? His ships are good ones. These fruit come all the way from Dorne and the Arbor, but they’re still fresh.”

Y/N could see that. Her heart was racing at the sight of peaches, oranges, limes, figs… of course, Lyanna’s eyes went straight to the lemons. She giggled and shook her head. “They’re better when they’re baked in cakes. Have you had an orange before?”

“Never. Let’s get some. Four, if we could?” Lyanna asked the man, and he handed them over. Four was all he had, and Y/N paid, feeling a little sorry for taking so many. She wondered if the common folk could afford fruits. This cold preserved them well.

They walked around the market idly, more interested in the treats they just acquired. Y/N taught Lyanna how to peel the orange and the wolf-girl was delighted with how sweet and juicy they were. “This is wonderful! Why aren’t we baking these into cakes?”

“I suppose someone tried, and it didn’t work out well,” Y/N mused. “My mother liked to squeeze them into her water, or she’d just drink the juice itself. When you preserve the peels and dry them, you can scatter them amongst your things to make them smell good.” She thought about her mother’s hugs, and her favorite parlor, and the strong smell of citrus and exotic flowers that permeated both. She was a Northern woman, but took to the wonders of Dorne and Essos and the Reach, little treasures brought in on her husband’s ships. It was how her father courted her: With baskets of fruit, tropical flowers, strings of pearls and giant conch shells. Y/N smiled, remembering how her mother lit up when she told her about it.

“I can promise you, my little pearl, one day you will have such kindnesses paid by someone who truly adores you.”

“You know so many things. All I know is passable dancing, and horses.” Lyanna said, breaking Y/N’s reverie, of which she was grateful for. The Stark girl rubbed at her chin where some juices at dribbled, and Y/N handed her a handkerchief.

“You know swords and lances well.”

“Aye, but I’m not allowed to use them.” Lyanna frowned, but it didn’t look like her mood was lowering. She eagerly bit into a second orange instead. Y/N sighed and put the handkerchief back into her reticule.

“Can I have the peels?” She asked.

“Are you going to put them into my riding boots?”

“Gods, I’d need a bushel to mask that scent.”

Lyanna didn’t want to throw her precious orange, so she settled for lunging and chasing Y/N instead. Y/N shrieked and ran, glad for the headstart: Lyanna had to chew and swallow her orange pieces properly before tearing after her. Lyanna’s old dress was short enough that she didn’t have to pull up the skirts, but Y/N had the lighter cloak. She shrieked again as Lyanna grasped for it, but missed. “I’ll get you for that!” The girl hollered. “Come back, Y/N!”

They laughed and chased each other around the town like children, and no one cared. Some older women noticed and scowled, and a few children laughed and followed for a while, but no one stopped them. No one grabbed their ears and admonished them for the messy hair, dirty clothes and sticky orange-flavored fingers. They were little girls again, not proper ladies of five and ten, daughters of Stark and Caspian.

Y/N stopped suddenly, then yelped as Lyanna tackled her to the ground. She squirmed and coughed. “Lyanna! You’ll kill me!”

“Don’t start fights you can’t finish!” Lyanna responded. She realized Y/N was still winded and moved off her. “Oh, are you hurt?”

“No,” Y/N sat up and blinked the dust out of her eyes. Satisfied, Lyanna flicked an orange peel at her. Y/N picked it off her lap and ate it. Lyanna made a face, like Y/N just ate the peel of a lemon — then she remembered she saw her friend do that, too.

“Do you hear that?” Y/N asked. It was the entire reason she stopped. Both girls kept still and listened. They were on the edge of Wintertown, their game taking them to the very end of it. Out here was a few modest homes and small gardens, a crumbling wall, and the road leading to Winterfell.

“Horses,” Lyanna said. She listened. “Several of them, moving at once. It’s probably a retinue.”

“Is it Brandon? I can’t recall when he was supposed to come home.”

“It would be bad for Brandon to find us like this and tell father,” Lyanna said, but she laughed. She was like her old self today. Suddenly, she said, “Oh. We should have saved an orange for Ben.”

“But not Brandon?”

“His Lordliness can get fruit whenever he wants. He can ride to the Reach and pick it himself.” Lyanna scoffed. She stood up, pulled Y/N to her feet and they both dusted their dresses and cloaks off. The horses were closer now, easy to hear without them staying quiet. It had to be Brandon, or a nearby lord. It was too much commotion for farmers bringing food.

The girls walked to the crumbling wall and crouched down, eager to peek at the banners. They weren’t foolish enough to openly stare, even if this was Wintertown, they weren’t entirely safe. Y/N had a vague thought that Lyanna might have a dagger in her boot, but that wasn’t real protection. She kicked herself for not bringing something of her own, even if she had no idea how to use it.

“They’re taking their time,” Lyanna muttered. “Has to be a lord. A lordling wouldn’t bring so many wagons, and a merchant wouldn’t be so slow. If it is Brandon, let’s throw rocks.”

“Let’s not.”

“Fine, a single rock. I won’t hit his horse, she deserves better. It could always be Ser Roderick, or the Pooles. Maybe even Cerwyn —”

Y/N pulled her back, lower against the stone wall. “Shh.”

Two horses passed, carrying modestly protected Northern guards. Then four more guards followed, dressed in different leather and armor. Y/N squinted, not recognizing the arms on their surcoats. It wasn’t anyone sworn to House Stark. Then, what they wanted: The banners.

One man held a direwolf, and another one held a blue falcon. Lyanna shot up, and Y/N stumbled, as she was still holding onto her.

Then she looked up, and jumped to her feet just as Lyanna had. They both stared.

It was Brandon, as they guessed, and someone else. They rode ahead, followed by a few more men, one of them a fully-armored knight who wore the crest of a sky-blue and white falcon.

“Ned!!”

Lyanna was gone. She tore across a small field to the road, and the guards stopped all at once, their hands flying to their hips. That action snapped Y/N to attention, but she could only stand and stare. She watched the boy — no, young man — beside Brandon turn in his saddle, and his grey eyes lit up with surprise and happiness.

Y/N thought someone was sitting on her chest, then something was trying to get out of it. She was choked up, the world was spinning, and she could barely hear the words Lyanna, Ned and Brandon were all saying. Lyanna nearly jumped up on the horse, but Ned swiftly dismounted. He only had a moment before he was being strangled in a hug.

Brandon got down from his horse and said something to the guards. The horses shook their heads at the commotion but Lyanna shouted again, and two of the knights laughed, and Y/N was still.

Then Ned looked up over his sister’s head, and met eyes with her. Y/N took a step forward, then another. She forgot she was wearing an old dress, a cloak that was now dirty from running about, that her hair was out of a normally tamed and styled braid. Ned held out his hand, as though she was close and not ten or fifteen feet away.

Y/N shyly walked down the field to the road, trying not to look at the guards, or Brandon. Lyanna pulled away from Ned and grabbed her arm, pulling her the last two feet. “What are you doing, Y/N? Come over here!”

She was pushed in front of him. He was different in some ways, but not many. Brandon towered above him and Lyanna was just a little shorter. Y/N smiled at that, but quickly looked to her hands, which smelled of oranges and still had a little stickiness on them.

“It’s good to see you again,” Y/N could only say. She thought of all the clever and interesting words she sent before, and how they were failing her horribly now. Her mind scrambled for something to say, something she had written before, something good, but it was all jumbled.

She didn’t look at Ned as he replied, “It’s good to see you too, Y/N.”

It was quiet, like they were the only ones, but that was quickly interrupted. Brandon was beside them, loudly teasing, “It’s Lady Y/N, brother. I thought the South was supposed to teach you all those stuffy manners.”

“She’s always been Y/N to us,” Lyanna rolled her eyes. “More importantly, were you and father keeping this a secret?”

Her brother replied with a small smile. “Yes, it… it was supposed to be a surprise. I never imagined we’d meet you here.”

“And why are you two here?” Brandon crossed his arms. His good humor quickly left, as if he just took in their location and their clothes. He looked at Lyanna, then Y/N, and kept his attention on the latter. “Did you sneak out without a guard? Do you know how dangerous that can be? And why are you dressed like that?”

Y/N self-consciously pulled at her cloak as he questioned them, remembering the state she was in. Brandon’s words didn’t bother her, it was the realization that Ned hadn’t seen her in years, and this is what he saw as soon as he came back. Didn’t I have silly daydreams of him seeing me in the gown I made, or a new one? Why am I even thinking about that?

She was glad Lyanna and Brandon got into a little spat, to hide her embarrassment. She stepped behind Lyanna, half to shield herself, half to put some distance between her and Ned. She was steadily being overcome with an urge to hug him — wouldn’t that be natural? He was home now, but … it wasn’t that simple. So, she kept at Lyanna’s side, redirecting her attention on calming her friend.

“When I tell father about this, he’ll have words to say, especially since tonight he wants to hold a feast —”

“— If you tell him, I’ll tell about all that extra time you spend at the Rills!”

“It’s my job as heir to visit our bannermen and listen to their grievances!”

“Oh, yes, the pretty Ryswell daughters have much to say, I’m sure —”

Brandon went red and was ready to retort hotly, when Ned cleared his throat. He inclined his head to the men around them, all visibly impatient. Ned himself had some of that energy as he said, “Let’s go home.”

The way he said it, how could anyone continue to argue? Brandon stopped at once, knowing it had been years since his little brother had seen Winterfell properly. He patted him affectionately on the back, and Lyanna beamed. Y/N met eyes with Ned again, and they both turned away.

Brandon took his horse’s bridle. “Whose riding with whomst?”

“I’ll ride with Ned!” Lyanna blurted excitedly, and disappointment shot through Y/N so quickly, she felt a little sick. Don’t be stupid. That’s her brother, and she’ll just quarrel with Brandon, besides.

Brandon offered her a hand and easily swept her up on his horse. He asked if she was comfortable before swinging up himself, settling in like it was as easy as sitting in a chair. The problem is he put her in front, so his arms were loosely around her as he gathered his reins. Nervous as she was around these beasts, Y/N almost preferred riding behind him, although that was not always considered proper for a lady. Y/N had to hold onto him, especially with how far up she was. Brandon had a fine old destrier, once a great warhorse, still mighty and tall in her old age. She was perfect for taking him around the North, but Y/N thought she was entirely too big.

Lyanna happily settled in behind Ned instead of in front of him. Again, Y/N met his eyes. He had expressions that said so much, especially since he himself said little. She couldn’t read this one, though. Brandon called out, “Move on!” and the small escort went on the road. Y/N was thankful for the easy pace, and the steady gait of the destrier.

Her nervousness slowly settled as the four of them made conversation, with the Vale knight occasionally speaking up. Before long, the walls of Winterfell appeared before them, the proud white banners flying above. Ned looked up at the direwolf, and Y/N could swear some fatigue just melted right off him. The gates opened, and the guards keeping their station happily called to the boys, not noticing the state Lord Stark’s daughter and his ward were in. By the time their escort entered the yard, several servants, men-at-arms and children had come to see Ned come home.

Benjen pushed through all of them, eagerly running at his older brother. There was no shortage of hugs as Lyanna, Benjen and Ned reunited, while Brandon helped Y/N off the horse. Unlike his oldest brother, Benjen hadn’t developed an avoidance to his sister and her companion. He was only two years younger than them, and looked hurt as he said, “You all met him without me!”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Ned said again. “I crossed Brandon on the road by chance, and then these two—”

“Isn’t it a wonderful coincidence?” Lyanna grinned. She was still standing close to Ned, all but hanging off him. Y/N allowed Benjen to squeeze past her to get to Ned.

While the three chattered, Y/N asked Brandon, “You truly didn’t know? Where were you coming from?”

“Returning from the Karstarks. Father didn’t tell me a thing.”

Lyanna and Benjen began dragging Ned to the great hall, and now servants and guards started gathering, having realized who he was and all were eager to see him. Y/N smiled, pleased he was so missed… and only slightly glad he was moving further from her. She was anxious of what would happen if they were in a small group again, or worse, alone. She almost wanted to stay behind, but Brandon called to her, lingering back so she could catch up.

Being alone happened far sooner than Y/N anticipated.

The next morning, she stepped carefully through the snow, watching for roots just slightly sticking out. The sun was beginning to peak over the stone walls, helping her navigate the quiet yard. This route wasn’t yet familiar to her. She’d only made it recently, and often without Lyanna. Her friend wanted to mourn in quiet.

Y/N descended into the crypts. She shuddered instantly, feeling a far stronger cold take hold of her. Her footsteps echoed off the stone and she walked steadily toward her destination, passing statues of long dead Lord Starks and their sons.

Lady Lyarra did not have a sculpted sepulcher, but she had a beautiful tomb and marker for her bones. Y/N held her reticule close, bringing it to her nose so she could smell the crisp, dried oranges and give herself peace of mind. She hadn’t even visited her own family’s crypt.

She gasped as the shadows shuddered, nearly dropping the dried peels. The torches were scattered about, some not lit, making the shadows grow and recede with every second. She heard something just a few feet away.

Y/N bit down a curse as Ned came into view, the shadows circling around him. He blinked at her, his grey eyes almost looking black in the limited light.

“Y/N?”

“Y-You scared me,” She shuddered. “I didn’t — I didn’t think there would be anyone here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I…” Y/N paused. She couldn’t seem to steady her heart, not with Ned looking directly at her. He was so much taller than before. She turned away. “I wanted to pay my respects. To give a gift.”

He didn’t respond right away. Y/N thought of the letters, of the reassurances, the kindnesses she sent him when he finally heard the news of his mother’s passing.

Why was it failing her now? She squeezed the fabric bag between her fingers.

“You brought something for her?” Ned asked quietly. “Could I see?”

Y/N nodded. She stepped closer, but not enough to feel any warmth from him. The cold of the crypt was cooling her nerves. “Orange peels. I dried them. They… they smell nice.”

She felt foolish, but he smiled. It was slight, but it was there.

“This way.” He said. He took a torch off the wall and led her deeper in. Y/N forgot how far it truly was. The Starks had been dying for centuries, and soon they would have to dig deeper into the cave to make space for the future generations. Lyarra was buried next to her parents, neither of who had a statue either.

There were fresh blue roses on the grave, and older, smaller blossoms that had begun to dry and decay. Y/N recalled Benjen brought those. She arranged the orange peels neatly, happy with the fragrance they gave off in addition to the roses. Ned must have brought those.

She quietly prayed, and Ned kept quiet beside her, perhaps joining her, perhaps not. When she finished, her hands fell to her side. Her cold, bare fingers brushed with Ned’s, and she felt the soft wool of his gloves. His finger hooked around one of her’s, and she curled it.

“Ned, I don’t presume to know your feelings, but I can only imagine how much you must hurt. If I could only help — if you were only right here, instead of far away —”

“When I home come, I want to see you, and do all the things we said we would do. I want to watch you paint, and dance, and maybe ride a horse — because I know Lyanna will make us — but most of all, I want to hear your voice.”

Y/N felt her throat was dry, but she stayed put, wondering if her heartbeat could be heard bouncing off the walls. She knew if she looked at him, even with a glance, she’d lose all composure and just run away.

She almost did that, when a loud noise made them both jump nearly two feet apart. Ned instantly took her hand back to push her behind him, then touched his sword. He grasped the hilt and lifted it just an inch out of the scabbard.

“Gods!” Y/N let out a hard breath. The skinny orange cat that knocked the unlit brazier over. It didn’t have coal in it, but it still made a terrible racket. The cat hissed and ran back into the shadows.

“I see he’s still here,” Ned mumbled. He set his sword back, and his shoulders were still tight. “Damned creature.”

“He gets lost down here so often. If he were kinder, I’d carry him out.”

“If it’s the same orange cat from when I was a boy, he’d rather freeze to death than be touched for even a moment.”

Silly smiles graced their faces, in spite of where they were, in spite of why they came in the first place. Ned nervously touched the hilt of his sword. “Shall we return?”

As they stepped out of the crypt, Y/N had to lift her skirts to climb the stairs easier. Ned offered his hand, and she took it for the last few steps. He didn’t immediately let go, and she didn’t comment on it. Instead she asked, “Did they make you learn those manners in the South?”

“There’s all sorts of manners and noble bearing they expect. It’s exhausting,” Ned admitted with a shy expression, and Y/N couldn’t help but imagine him trying some sort of silly, formal dance she’d heard about.

“Give me an example.”

He stared at their connected hands, his ears and cheeks slowly growing redder. Y/N didn’t pull away, even if her own body was threatening to explode with nerves and heat.

She expected him to kiss her hand, like she’d hear the other girls gossip about. She felt his warm lips against her fingers, through her thin gloves, and it made her jolt. Some of his brown hair brushed against her arm. I might well and truly die now.

Ned coughed and hastily turned away from her, utterly embarrassed at his own behavior. “Th-that’s what Lord Arryn… what Lord Arryn said to do when … when meeting a lady…”

“Are you kissing other ladies?” She couldn’t help it. She giggled, the warmth in her chest bubbling up to her lips. Her hand felt like it was on fire. “Should I be jealous, Ned?”

Ned covered his face with his hands, and she laughed. She covered her own face to settle her silly, foolish giddiness. “Of course not,” He grumbled. “You’re the only one I ever spoke to, besides.”

“Oh, you must have talked to some in the Eyrie.”

“Some.” Ned’s grey eyes glanced to her. She met his gaze, and they held it as he continued, “Though I kept wishing you were there.”

Y/N had to look away again. She couldn’t giggle, her throat was stuck, her chest hurt and she hated how tongue-tied she was. She never imagined it would be this hard — whatever this was —

“What in the seven hells are you both doing?”

Looking through her fingers, Y/N watched Brandon saunter up to them. The older Stark tilted his head to his brother.

Ned could only manage to suspiciously avoid looking at him. Brandon glanced between them, and Y/N felt like she had done something wrong. She quickly said, “We were visiting the crypt to pay our respects.”

Brandon’s face fell, and he said little else. Y/N understood it would be time for breakfast soon, and the morning sun had long broken over the tall stone walls. The three of them walked back to the keep together, Brandon pointedly putting himself between Y/N and Ned.

[thebutterflysoupblog]

Butterfly Soup Trivia - Extra Details

This one will cover details about the work behind Butterfly Soup!

When creating the game, Brianna used different pitches for characters so the player can tell who is speaking.

Brianna wanted to share messages such as: It's okay to be a mess, you deserve to be happy, et cetera. She also wanted to share that sometimes friends "are your real family."

For more specific details about the game, Brianna used her own experiences, her friends, and the Internet. For example, she researched if Min-seo and Jun-seo were convincing matching names for twins, and then asked a Korean friend for her opinion. Noelle picking out sausages for Diya was something she saw because she grew up with Hindu friends. Diya's feelings of feeling shorter than Noelle is like Brianna feeling taller than her childhood friend who is now 5'8. The pronunciation of tandoori was something her Indian friend taught her friend group in high school. The "madrasi" exchange between Diya and Akarsha was from a Facebook exchange.

A lot of the game came from personal experience. In high school, her friends did the Valentine's Day prank on a friend every year (the friend wasn't like Akarsha). Like Noelle, Brianna's best friend had a crush on her archnemesis. She also had two friends who had no interest in each other but interacted (and later became friends) because they both liked her.

Brianna decided to have Min and Noelle's parents shadowed because of the "huge gulf they have between themselves and their parents cultural differences" while still having power over them. And also because it saved time of drawing different facial expressions.

The initial version of the game would have been in Diya's point-of-view the entire time.

The initial version of the game had its conflict between Diya and Min because of Min somehow accidentally hurting Diya and felt guilty. Because Brianna had a hard time making it sound convincing, she found Min and Noelle drama to make more sense.

The initial version of the game had Akarsha and Noelle as supporting characters. Because of their strong personalities, they became main characters like Diya and Min.

The idea of baseball in Butterfly Soup came suddenly. Brianna's baseball knowledge came from the few times she played it during gym class or when she watched movies and sports anime.

Brianna first created Diya and Min during a winter break in college (2014). She did not start officially working on the game until much later. Because most of the time was spent drawing art and figuring out how to make the game work, she notes she only has to do about 25% as much work for the sequel.

Noelle normally wears a surgical mask to prevent contaminating others, but Brianna could not put it in the game because "blocking the lower half of her face made her look less expressive."

Brianna had trouble naming Butterfly Soup. The original title was "Queen of Diamonds" because she liked the pun of diamond/DiyaMin. She changed it because: the tag was filled with Marina & the Diamonds, people could misremember it easily, and it made it sound like Diya and Min were more important than Noelle and Akarsha.

Brianna was inspired by "the feeling growing up that there wasn't any media out there made with [her] in mind." She wanted to focus on relationships between South and East Asian characters being friends with one another, especially because it is a huge aspect of her daily life that is missing from a lot of stories. Due to that lack of representation—even when making Butterfly Soup—she thought "Is it realistic for that mix of people to be friends?" despite her childhood being that.

Brianna decided to use the font Myriad for dialogue. The font for the character labels and menu is a modified form of Yunus that Brianna edited by hand. The fonts are included in the game download files.

Brianna planned on making the sprites blink in the game.

The game is set in Fall 2008 (when the characters are in high school), but references things much later. Examples include a Durarara reference and memes. The IGF trailer was also modern-day because it broke the fourth wall.

Brianna wanted to add 90s and early 00s hits in the game for nostalgia, thus making the experience even more "surreal." Examples include Complicated, Rock Your Body, Dilemma, etc.

Brianna referenced Akarsha's surprised sprite off of Trucy's surprised sprite from Ace Attorney. (You can see it in AA4, Apollo Justice.)

Brianna wondered if she should have made the main characters older, but is happy she kept them at 14. She thinks that "a lot of people in their 20s instinctively feel 14 is too young because they've forgotten what they themselves were like at 14."

Brianna did not design a backpack for Min knowing that she would not wear it.

Brianna did not plan on the characters' names spelling words, but noticed it early on. For example: Diya, Akarsha, Min, and Noelle spells DAMN; Yuki, Ester, and Sakura spells YES; and although Chryssa and Liz don't spell anything, it can make chrysalis.

That’s it! My next post will probably cover given information about the sequel. (●'◡'●)

[iamthenightcolormeblack]

Pride and Prejudice 1940: "When Pretty Girls T-E-A-S-E-D Men Into Marriage"

Made during the Great Depression, this classic black and white film is loosely based on Austen's novel and is set in what is likely the 1830s rather than the Regency Era (late 18th century to early 19th century). It is an escapist piece which capitalizes on nostalgia for a simpler time by transporting its viewers to a chocolate-box vision of the past, while paying homage to Austen's social satire by delivering plenty of laughs along the way.

Overall Thoughts on the Film:

The first time I watched this movie, I was confused because the plot as well as the setting was revised significantly (the events after Darcy's first proposal are changed to hasten the happy ending; Darcy's letter and Elizabeth's visit to Pemberley are not included in this movie). This changing of plot points makes the 2005 movie a much more faithful adaptation in comparison with this version, in spite of the creative liberties both take with the novel.

Production Design:

The movie is a typical example of Golden Age Hollywood productions, with beautiful actresses and melodramatic flourishes added to increase the drama. Some of the lines are delivered very quickly, in keeping with the comedic style of the time.

The music: definitely not historically accurate. A lot of sentimental, "ye olde timey" string arrangements that emphasize emotions or fast-paced waltz music for balls/parties.

The 1830s costumes are beautiful; it seems as if no expense (or quantity of fabric) was spared in making them. The bonnets are way taller and have more decorations than typical 1830s bonnets. Some of the patterns/fabric choices are very 1930s, and the costumes are exaggerated in such as way as to make the wearers look like fancy turkeys.

Hair and Makeup: very 1930s, with finger/sausage curls, plucked eyebrows, lipstick/lip makeup, and long lashes.

The sets: the dollhouse-like interiors are lavishly gilded and made to look as opulent as possible. Outdoors scenes are lush, with lots of flowers and bushes; the garden in which the second proposal takes place is gorgeous. The set design transports the viewer into an idyllic vision of the bucolic English countryside.

The Lead Actors:

With the exception of Laurence Olivier, the majority of the actors are American, since this is a Hollywood production. Many of the characters in the film's imaginary vision of pastoral Britain speak American or make clumsy attempts to imitate British English.

Greer Garson: while she is definitely too old for the part, she perfectly conveys Elizabeth's intelligence, outspokenness, and sarcasm. Her facial expressions are killer as well; with the arch of an eyebrow along with a snarky side eye, she captivates us all. All in all, Garson effectively shows off Elizabeth's impertinence through her nonverbal acting (this reminds me strongly of Jennifer Ehle's Elizabeth Bennet).

Laurence Olivier: he effectively conveys Darcy's pride while hinting at his deeper feelings beneath the surface (I can see why Colin Firth spoke so highly of Olivier's portrayal of Darcy). Most importantly, the film emphasizes Darcy's intelligence; he is certainly Elizabeth's intellectual equal. While this portrayal of Darcy is very accurate to the book, Darcy's pride does go away pretty quickly (he and Elizabeth form a tentative friendship early on) and his social awkwardness isn't immediately obvious thanks to his charm. Also the unflattering hairstyle with the greasy hair and painted on sideburns makes me sad.

Key Scenes:

Opening scene: The title card appeals directly to the audience's nostalgia for a sentimental, romanticized past: “It happened in OLD ENGLAND (this was actually capitalized), in the village of Meryton…” The Bennet women are at a fabric shop, where they gossip with aunt Phillips about the rich people moving into Netherfield Park.

The carriage race: this scene, which isn’t in the original novel, represents the rivalry between the Bennets and Lucases. The mothers both want their daughters to be the first to snag the rich bachelors.

The first ball: There is a historical anachronism as the music is a waltz by Strauss, who became popular in late 19th century, specifically the Gilded Age; far too early for the Regency Era or 1830s England. Other changes from the original novel include Elizabeth meeting Wickham before Darcy; other events from Aunt Phillips’ ball (which isn’t included in this movie) and Wickham and Darcy’s confrontation are included in this scene.

Elizabeth’s impression of Darcy at the ball: she puts on airs and mocks his casual dismissal of her as tolerable (definitely a parallel with the 1995 version, where Jennifer Ehle does the same, but privately with Jane).

Great comedic change: Darcy introduces himself to Elizabeth after calling her tolerable and asks if she will dance with him (this originally takes place at Mr. Lucas' ball). Right after rejecting Darcy, she instantly agrees to dance with Wickham; in a humorous moment, Darcy evacuates to a corner of the room to sulk while seeing Wickham dance with Elizabeth.

The “Accomplished woman” scene: the dialogue lifted directly from the book for the most part. Darcy, in a departure from his trademark seriousness, shows off his playful side when reacting to Caroline Bingley's "turn about the room." I particularly like this added repartee from Elizabeth Bennet to Darcy, which is clever but also foreshadows her prejudice: “If my departure is any punishment, you are quite right. My character reading is not too brilliant.”

Elizabeth can't stand Mr. Collins: After twirling about his monocle, he pronounces that: “It might interest you to know my taste was formed by lady Catherine de Bourgh.” The best part of this scene is when Elizabeth plucks a wrong note on her harp when Collins gets really annoying.

The Netherfield ball (which is now a garden party):

Elizabeth running away from Mr. Collins: She looks rather ridiculous, almost like an overdressed turkey, in a white dress with puffy sleeves as she runs away from an overeager Collins. Then she hides in the bushes while Darcy helps her to hide, telling Collins he doesn't know where she is. It's fun but most likely not something a proper lady and gentleman would do (two people of the opposite gender out alone, shock!).

The archery scene: Darcy attempts to teach Elizabeth how to shoot a bow and arrow, even though he doesn’t hit the bullseye. She goes on to impress him by perfectly hitting the bullseye every time; Darcy learns his lesson: "Next time I talk to a young lady about archery I won't be so patronizing." Caroline Bingley, very passive aggressive as usual, shows up for her archery lesson right after and it's absolutely perfect.

Mr. Collins attempts to introduce himself to Mr. Darcy: Laurence Olivier captures Darcy so perfectly in this scene (really set the precedent for Colin Firth). When Mr. Collins starts talking (inviting Elizabeth to dance with him) Darcy tries to keep himself well-composed but has a pained expression on his face as if he’s about to pass out. Olivier masters the way Darcy can look so miserable but also disgusted and proud at the same time.

Mr. Collin's proposal to Elizabeth: I like the added touch of Mrs. Bennet pulling Elizabeth back by her skirt when she tries to run out of the room. The dialogue is taken directly from the book, and the scene is made even funnier when Collins holds on to Elizabeth's hand desperately and doesn’t let her get away. My only quibble is that Elizabeth isn’t indignant enough when Mr. Collins doesn't take no for an answer.

Elizabeth and Darcy at Rosings: I like that Olivier subtly indicates that Darcy is clearly affected upon seeing Elizabeth at Rosing, hinting at deeper feelings beneath the surface. I also like how the scriptwriter emphasizes that Darcy indirectly praises Elizabeth and enjoys their conversations, while she remains convinced that he hates her. Sadly, the original dialogue of the piano scene is not included, which is unfortunate as it allows Darcy to reveal his introvert tendencies, calling into question Elizabeth's assertion that he is unpardonably proud.

First proposal: The famous opening lines are mutilated with awkward punctuation: “It’s no use. I’ve struggled in vain. I must tell you how much I admire and love you." While the rest of the dialogue matches up closely with what happens in Austen's novel, both of the actors aren’t emotional enough; instead Elizabeth cries very daintily, and Darcy remains serene, which conflicts with the book's description of both of them being very angry and defensive at each other.

THE SCRIPT:

The first half of the film up to Darcy's first proposal follows the events of the original book closely, though certain blocks of dialogue are moved elsewhere and other events such as Mrs. Phillips' party are skipped over. The most significant changes, besides updating the setting to the 1830s, are made to the second half of the book to squeeze the key events of the story into the movie before delivering the inevitable happy ending.

Brilliant Quotes:

Mr. Bennet's reaction to Mrs. Bennet's despair over the situation of their 5 unmarried daughters: “Perhaps we should have drowned some of them at birth.”

Darcy insists Elizabeth cannot tempt him: “Ugh. Provincial young lady with a lively wit. And there’s that mother of hers.”

Darcy is an arrogant snob: “I’m in no humor tonight to give consequence to the middle classes at play.” (Technically the Bennets are part of the gentry; they just are less wealthy than Darcy).

Elizabeth's reaction to Darcy pronouncing her to be tolerable at best: “What a charming man!”

Elizabeth rebuffs Darcy's offer to dance after overhearing his insult: “I am afraid that the honor of standing up with you is more than I can bear, Mr Darcy.”

Elizabeth favors Wickham after witnessing the bad blood between him and Darcy: “Without knowing anything about it I am on your side.”

Mrs. Bennet's comment after she sends Jane to Netherfield under stormy skies: “There isn’t anything like wet weather for engagements. Your dear father and I became engaged in a thunderstorm.”

Mr. Bennet's reaction to Jane's fever: “Jane must have all the credit for having caught the cold…we’re hoping Elizabeth will catch a cold and stay long enough to get engaged to Mr. Darcy. And if a good snowstorm could be arranged we’d send Kitty over!”

The sisters' description of Mr. Collins: “Oh heavens! what a pudding face.”

Caroline Bingley at the Netherfield garden party: “Entertaining the rustics is not as difficult as I feared. Any simple childish game seems to amuse them excessively.”

Darcy reassuring Elizabeth after helping her escape Mr. Collins: “If the dragon returns St. George will know how to deal with it.”

Darcy learns his lesson after Elizabeth beats him at archery: “The next time I talk to a young lady about archery I won’t be so patronizing.”

Elizabeth comments about a curtain: “Oh that’s pretty. It’s a pity you didn’t make it bigger. You could have put it around Mr. Collins when he becomes a bore.”

Elizabeth on Kitty and Lydia: “2 daughters out of 5, that represents 40% of the noise.”

Elizabeth sees Lady Catherine for the first time: “So that’s the great lady Catherine. Now I see where he learned his manners.”

Lady Catherine's attitude towards philanthropy: “You must learn to draw a firm line between the deserving poor and the undeserving poor.”

Darcy takes Elizabeth's advice: “I’ve thought a great deal about what you said at Netherfield, about laughing more...but it only makes me feel worse."

Elizabeth and Darcy have a conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam: “He likes the landscape well enough, but the natives, the natives, what boors, what savages … Isn’t that what you think, Mr. Darcy?” With a smile: “It evidently amuses you to think so, Miss Bennet."

CHANGES FROM THE BOOK:

The first half of the film up to Darcy's first proposal follow the events of the original book closely, though certain blocks of dialogue are moved elsewhere and other events such as Mrs. Phillips' party are skipped over. The most significant changes, besides updating the setting to the 1830s, are made to the second half of the book to squeeze the key events of the story into the movie before delivering the inevitable happy ending.

With the exception of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, the portrayals of the characters are (generally) true to the book.

As I said earlier, the film neglects any sort of historical accuracy when setting the story in romanticized "Old England," where genteel people pass simple lives that revolve around dresses, tea parties, social gossip, and marriages. A lot of Austen adaptations present an idealized vision of Regency life, where people are dressed immaculately, flawlessly adhere to "chivalry," and find love in the ballroom. This contributes to the misconception that Austen's novels are shallow chick-lit books with flat characters who live for lavish parties and hot men, instead of stories of unique, complicated women who happen to be well-off but aspire towards love, respect, or independence instead of being content to make economically advantageous marriages. Austen's novels are character novels and she doesn't waste time writing about dresses or tea parties; balls, while exciting, are just another part of daily life for her characters rather than some Extremely Big Special Once In a Blue Moon Event.

Austen's multifaceted view on marriage turns into a game of matchmaking. She recognizes it as necessary for women to survive in the patriarchy, since they cannot provide for themselves unless they marry well, but at the same time, presents marriage as a means for freedom if it is a loving partnership between two people that respect each other. In contrast, marriage is a game of manipulating the partners into wanting to marry (ex. Lady Catherine and Darcy's trickery). Also, it seems to be a given that Elizabeth will marry for love, unlike in the book where it is uncertain whether she will achieve this.

Kitty and Lydia's antics are viewed much more sympathetically as those of young people having fun; in the book, their behavior harms the family's social reputation, reducing the chances the Bennet daughters have of making good marriages.

Louisa Hurst, Georgiana Darcy, and Aunt and Uncle Gardiner are not in the movie.

Wickham is introduced much earlier than in the book; he is friends with Lydia from the very beginning. Interestingly, he doesn't begin to trash-talk Darcy until Bingley leaves; in the book he does so much earlier, before the Netherfield ball.

Darcy is more considerate towards Elizabeth at the Netherfield party (ex. rescuing her from Collins), until he overhears Mrs. Bennet scheming to get the daughters married. Elizabeth forms a tentative friendship with him until finding out that he separated Jane from Bingley.

Jane is more obviously heartbroken over Bingley's departure than in the book, where she keeps her pain to herself. In the movie, she runs away to cry, which is uncharacteristic of her.

Collins is a librarian instead of a clergyman. I dislike this change because some Austen scholars/fans think that Collins being a clergyman is a deliberate choice as part of Austen's social criticism. Collins is representative of how hypocritical the Church is, since he worships Lady Catherine's wealth instead of God, and preaches moral lessons instead of actually using religion to help people. My theory is that the change was made because of the Hays Code, which led to the censorship of movies for "unwholesome" or "indecent" things; the religious criticism could have been offensive.

Elizabeth reacts rather too kindly to Charlotte marrying Collins by showing concern for the loveless marriage. While she does worry about the lack of love in the marriage, initially she is extremely surprised, outright shocked, and confused.

The scene where Darcy tries and fails to talk to Elizabeth (the "charming house" scene in the 2005 movie) just before the proposal is removed.

Darcy's letter is skipped over and Elizabeth overcomes her prejudice of Darcy very quickly, as shown when she tells Jane she regrets rejecting his proposal. This is contrary to the book, where overcoming her prejudice is an emotionally exhausting and slow process that continues all the way up until the second proposal.

The Pemberley visit is removed; instead, Elizabeth returns home to the news that Lydia has eloped. Visiting Pemberley is very important as part of Elizabeth's re-evaluation of Darcy's character and provides an opportunity for Darcy to show Elizabeth that he has changed for her. The visit is key in increasing Elizabeth's love for Darcy, and removing it means that the characters have less personal growth (also wouldn't it have been great for the audience to be treated to another gorgeous estate of "Old England?"). Instead, Darcy visits Longbourn on his own and offers his help in finding Lydia. When the news comes that Wickham accepts very little money in exchange for marrying Lydia, it isn't as shocking as it is in the book because Darcy had already expressed his intentions of helping Elizabeth earlier.

Here's the change that bugs me the most: Lady Catherine becomes good; though she is a busybody, her main priority is Darcy's happiness. Her confrontation of Elizabeth is a scheme hatched between her and Darcy as a test to be certain of Elizabeth's love. This does not make sense on so many levels: first, Darcy insists that "disguise of every sort is my abhorrence," so why would he resort to trickery, however well-intentioned, to find out if Elizabeth still loves him? Second, Lady Catherine is a social snob and objects to Elizabeth's low connections; also she has an arranged marriage planned for Darcy. Third, in the book, because Elizabeth likes Pemberley and gets along really well with his sister Georgiana, Darcy would have had some evidence that Elizabeth, in the very least, cared for him. And the added claim that Lady Catherine approves of Elizabeth because she likes rudeness and thinks Darcy needs a humorous wife irritates me further because the marriage of Elizabeth and Darcy is revolutionary since it was made in defiance of societal rules!!! Why, why, why in the name of comedy did they have to do this?!

Darcy kisses Elizabeth (in a stagey and melodramatic way) after she accepts his second proposal. Seems a bit uncharacteristic of him.

All the sisters get married at the end. Happily ever after.

CONCLUSION

This movie certainly was not aiming for faithfulness to Austen's novel; it ignores her detailed portrait of Regency era society and its attitudes and focuses on the "light, bright, and sparkling" aspect of Pride and Prejudice that gives the story its timeless appeal.

All in all, this comedy of manners is definitely a classic thanks to the clever dialogue and jokes within the script, along with some great acting.

@appleinducedsleep @dahlia-coccinea @princesssarisa @colonelfitzwilliams @austengivesmeserotonin

[starlightshore]

How does Monster Food Work? a quick ut theory/analysis

Actually screw it here’s a quick analysis, no pictures because i wrote this quick.

*EDIT went back, there's pics and spelling errors are fixed. Note this was written at 3am or something originally lol.

I believe that monster food is magic that’s mixed with plants grown from the ground. The plant material is then shaped into different foods. A simple example: there is no meat productions underground except for the snail farm. We do, however, have examples of food that aren’t meat/dairy when you expect it to be otherwise.

Granted, this isn’t accessible by normal means, so how canonical it is debatable. (Like, entry #17 is commonly seen as canon so...?) There are barely any bugs underground.

I'm catching bugs. But the underground doesn't have many... -room 123.

That’s so odd to think about actually! Without bugs you can’t really have working ecosystem! Considering the wording concerning the barrier is:

“* Anything can enter through the seal, but only beings with a  powerful SOUL can leave.“

If anything can come in, we can expect fallen animals, seeds, wind ect. But how open is the barrier to life on the surface really?

“ALPHYS updated status. * WAIT THERE'S NO WEATHER DOWN  HERE WHY DID SHE CALL ME”

Now this could just be about Hotland specifically, however one can get the sense that weather wouldn’t be a factor to the rest of the underground either as their name sake and areas seem so little changes to them. It rains in waterfall, it snows in Snowdin. This lack of seasons would greatly impact ecosystems.

Here is a quick reminder on how monster food works, as spoken by Big Mouth at Grillby’s:

“* Isn't human food different  from monster food?* It does things like "spoil."* And when you eat it, it  passes all the way through  your whole body.”

“* To a human, monster food  would be very interesting.* As soon as you eat it, it  converts perfectly into  energy. “

it seems to me that Monster food is similar to Monster magic. Both are magical in nature -monster food doesn’t spoil, and attacks are magic itself. We shouldn’t expect monster food to be the same as human food from the start, we can’t make assumptions.

Let’s connect their food to their bodies: What are monsters and what are their magic?

We know Boss Monsters shed: ”* There is some white fur stuck in the drain. “ and we do see both Papyrus’ and Undyne’s attacks are left over as physical objects.  “* (It's a box of bones.) “

Though not exclusively so!

So magic itself CAN be created as a physical material but it can also dissipate. I’d imagine this fluidity functions similarly to the monster’s themselves! Monsters are beings that are more in-tuned to their souls purely because they don’t have water/carbon based physical bodies like humans. They are made of dust, magic and their souls.

Having their attacks/magic literally being the same material just makes sense! Why would they need meat? Those are bodies of actual animals, which monsters are not. We do see plants being made into monster food on two occasions and only once with meat.

Looking at the artbook we were originally going to get a glimpse at their farm production. (I have a digital copy, and searching in it takes Forever so i couldn’t find the text that talks about it??? i’ll edit this point later when I can find it)

It seems the “meat” we do see in game (aside from the Snails) are shown to surprisingly be plants. Golden flowers are made into tea, but that’s hardly unusual.The first notable example for this sort of monster food is that Sans’ hotcats are actually water-sausages! It’s implied through the phone call that Sans just yoinks them right out of waterfall to use for his hotdog/hotcats.

* "Hot Dog...?" Heals 20 HP * The "meat" is made of something  called a "water sausage."

The second example is one that we don’t get to eat, but we do see it’s production!

This is Alphys’ icecream machine. She lied to Undyne that the tall grass we see in Waterfall was an endangered species so that Undyne would ensure people didn’t tamper with the grass. This was simply because Alphys wanted the grass to produce icecream with.

I told you that seaweed was like... scientifically important...

Really, I just... I just use it to make ice cream!

This is the only time we really see monster food being made- it takes a green slush and converts it into pink ice cream.

Now, let’s get back to the snails. I bet you’re dying to talk about the snails.

Snails are an oddity because they seem to have a monster-like consciousness and are taken by Asriel’s light when absorbing the monster souls.

* there was a flash of light  outside my window* i saw the snails on the farm  disappear 

It’s not like Asriel was just taking everything -no, he was taking monster souls. And they race and have emotions, there’s snails that look visually unlike natural snails.

* but the snail looks  discouraged...* her best wasn't good  enough... 

Napstablook also refers to your racing snail as a “Her,” which also implies more sentience/person-hood. (Though, I’d argue “it” is such a common pronoun underground that if it wouldn’t be evidence for it non-person-hood per-say, but this is specifically “she/her” for a snail.)

Some even speak!

* I've been long overdue for  a second house...

So the snails........ are monsters. That’s... unsettling.

Let’s give Toriel and Asgore the benefit of the doubt that some of these snails are actually real surface snails. I don’t want to imagine some monsters are deemed as food compared to others. In fact, the snails Toriel describes in her “snail facts” directly contradicts the above snail’s autonomy.

* Talk. Really. Slowly? * Just kidding, snails  don't talk. 

So yes, Toriel doesn’t eat monster-snails. Is this confusing? Yes! Thank you toby.

Snails are the only confirmed-to-be-meat we see in the game. And alongside that, Toriel and Asgore are the only customers to the Blooky Snail Farm. (It’s safe to assume Toriel grows her own or gets them from somewhere else.)

* this place used to get a lot of business...* but our main customer  disappeared one day...* now it's just some hairy guy that shows up once  a month...

I think it’s an important detail that the only consumer of animal-meat we know of are boss monsters, who are notorious for being an exception to monsterkind. I’d argue that boss monsters might be more human like than normal monsters, as in they also have some physical matter to them. As stated before, monsters are made of dust and magic.Their souls don’t persist after death, while Boss monsters do for a brief moment.

Obviously they’re not the same level as humans, but it is worthy to note they’re extraordinary! Toriel also oddly enough, takes longer to die and bleeds black.

Which. is very odd. sans could have ketchup or blood also, but it’s hard to know without more info. (I mean hey, looking at you darkner-sans theoriests lol) Deltarune further confirms that monsters don’t bleed (at least in Hometown) which makes sense when monsters are just dust.

Is this because Toriel has more physical matter to her? Is that why her soul is stronger -being more physically separated from her magical/partly physical body. Humans are strong because their souls are disconnected from their bodies, so what makes boss monsters different?

I propose that it’s either from being a boss monster or from having snails in her diet that gives her this distance and therefore power in comparison to other monsters. (Or rather, the reason she likes snails in her diet is because of her boss monster nature, as she’d need the meat for it’s heavier matter content and proteins)

I don’t think it’s a coincidence the only real meat we see is famously eaten by boss monsters and the three monster foods we know how are made are through plants, and we can see the icecream looks vastly different from the sea-weed its made of.

Here’s an additional thought. maybe the use of using magical bullets releases some of the physical material consumed by eating monster food. Having a good balance of monster food (and it’s material within) and using one’s magic attacks keeps a mounter strong and healthy. So I imagine monsters need both healthy emotions and a consistent diet of magic to live!

so. tldr; monster food is plant based. this makes up the physical “dust” that makes up their fragile physical forms. Toriel and Asgore eat snails which are the only known-for-sure animal product in the game, and it’s because of that they’re more physical.

[burning-omen]

Break the Rules part 2

Peter Parker x Male!Mob boss!reader

Summary: The next morning with reader, Peter, a unexpected (and unwanted) guest, and an even less welcome anxiety attack....fun, right?

Warning: a little bit of anxiety and a small anxiety attack. OH AND GUNS! I ALMOST FORGOT! Murder threats and mentions too!

Part 1

Word count: 2879

A/n: Writers block is kicking my a*s so part 3 might take longer. Also, there’s a scene that I f*cking hate so much, like reading makes me want to cringe so hard, there’s nothing wrong with it, I just wish I went somewhere else with this chapter.

Oh, Peter also forgets his pants at some point, just a little heads up.

Last time: You settled down in your own bedroom, hanging your coat and tie up by the door before drifting off to sleep.

Now:

The next morning you woke up, only to hear Peter loudly exclaim “what the hell!” From the other room.

You groaned then sat up, still hearing Peter panicking in the other room. You made your way to him, only to see him sitting on the bed with the most panicked expression you’ve ever seen on a human person.

“Peter...relax yourself..”

His eyes snapped over to you. “Where am I?!”

“Fucking Christ…” you groaned. You’d woken up with a headache that felt far too similar to a hangover for you liking. “...you’re in my house. Yours was swarming with police and I wouldn’t want them to see me or you. Understand?”

He nodded slowly.

“Good, so you're done yelling then?”

He flushed red then nodded with a small chuckle.

“Sorry…”

Groaning again, you said, “it’s fine, just come down stairs when you're ready, okay?”

“O-okay..”

“Great..” with that you walked out of the room.

You honestly had no idea why you were being so nice to Peter. You’ve never shown this kind of hospitality to anyone before. So all of this was very new to you.

Maybe this had something to do with the sudden thought you had last night.

You walked down the stairs and to the kitchen. The entire bottom floor had been completely illuminated by sunlight making cooking yourself and your guest a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and sausage a lot easier. You were a little surprised that there was food in the house. Then you remembered that you’d been paying your neighbors to bring in groceries every few weeks.

You heard light thumping from upstairs then saw Peter emerge from the stairway...with no pants. You could feel your cheeks heat up at the sight...he knows he’s not wearing pants, right?

From the looks of it the answer was no, he came and sat on one of the stools on the outside of the counter then folded his arms and laid on them.

“Sorry for taking so long…” he said through a yawn.

You cleared your throat a little then said, “it’s fine.” With a small voice crack. “It seems you’ve made yourself at home..”

He laughed softly and said, “I hope you don’t mind. Your house is just very relaxing to me.”

“I don’t mind at all..”

The house was silent other than the sounds of you preparing both yours and Peter’s plate. He looked up at you suspiciously.

“What is it?”

“Just...why are you being so nice to me? Like I understand that you want me to work for you but it seems like it’s…”

“It seems like what, Peter?”

He picked up the fork on the counter and twirled it in his hand.

“I don’t know… To me it looks like you want me to do more than just work for you…” he said, getting quieter and quieter, sinking down farther into his seat as he went on.

Well fuck. You see, you’re not the best with emotional confrontation. Or emotional anything for that matter. You could easily put on a simple “I’m Just A Suave Kind Of Person” act but that just makes you look like a fool because this has gone far beyond just being charming.

“Well...” you cleared your throat, trying to find the right words for the moments. “You see, I’ve just bee-“

You were cut off by the very loud sound of your front door being practically thrown off its hinges by no other than Markus Cane, aka one of the lower level(but not bottom tear) players from your more “private” games. He was very clearly enraged. More than likely about his recent losing streak, an unfortunate occurrence that's bringing him closer to being kicked out of the game permanently. Now he's broken into your house while you have an important guest over, which has just brought him a lot closer to death.

But, instead of letting the growing rage inside you show you spoke to the man in the calmest of tones.

“Markus Cane? What brings y-”

You were, once again, interrupted by him.

“You mother fucker!” He shouted, “You’re the reason my life has gone to shit You and your little games!”

You rolled your eyes at the disheveled man, “Is this about you losing the last few games? Because I can assure you that your...inability to play a proper game has nothing to do with me. I only run fair games, it’s your own fault that you lost.”

“Bullshit!” He pulled a pistol out of the waistband of his pants and aimed it straight at you...Sort of.

It was obvious he hadn’t slept in days, he had dark circles under his red bloodshot eyes. His hands shook and his body swayed as a clear sleep deprivation. He was delirious.

“You’re always pulling the strings in those games! Always behind the scenes telling the croupiers what to do! You set me up!”

“Trust me, I had no interest in your downfall..”

He looked at you with confusion, “‘Had’?”

“Yes Markus, had. I don’t know if you noticed but you’ve broken into my house, throw ridiculous accusations at me and now you're threatening my life, all of this done in front of my current guest of honor. At the moment I want you dead.” You said, your tone never changing.

Markus stumbled backward, the weight of what he’d done crashing down on him. He backed himself into a wall, his hands shaking so hard that he dropped the gun. It seemed as though the safety was still on so it collided with the ground without going off.

Peter, who you hadn’t been too focused on at the moment, rushed to grab it before settling back onto the stool, setting it on the table. All done while keeping his eyes on the man, who was now overcome with the realization that he was more than definitely dead.

“L-listen man, I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a joke!” He stuttered.

You walked from around the counter, placing your hand on Peter's shoulder for a moment before moving forward towards the man.

He was frozen, mouth agape watching you.

“Now, I would normally kill a fool like you who decided to interrupt my peaceful morning, but I have a guest and that would be rude. And the clean up would take hours, hours that I don’t want to waste on idiots like you. So i’ll give you ten seconds to get as far away from here as possible..” Your voice shifted, turning to a lower, more threatening tone.

Markus stared at you for a long moment not moving until you said, “You have 5 seconds Markus..”

He was out of your house immediately, slamming the door behind him.

You turned back to Peter, who was staring at the door Markus had run through moments before.

“Peter?” You said, your tone changing from the anger laced one you used earlier to a much softer, calmer voice.

He turned to look at you, his eyes wide and bright as though you hadn’t just threatened to murder someone.

“Yes?”

You sighed, leaning against the counter next to him.

“I think it’s time for us to go.”

He nodded, hopping up from the stool.

“Okay, I’ll go grab my shoes from upstairs.”

“Mhmm, make sure you grab your pants while you're up there..”

He looked at you with confusion clear on his face, “What?”

Without looking back at him (less in a respectful way and more in a ‘I don’t want to start staring’ way) you gesture downward.

He looked down, then blush quickly took over his face.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” He shouted before running up the stairs quickly.

You went up a little after he did, heading to your own room. Quickly getting yourself ready for the day ahead of you, grabbing your tie and putting on your shoes as you exited the room.

By the time you were done and heading back down the stairs Peter was already there (with pants this time) staring down at his lap, blush still covering his face.

“Are you ready to leave?”

He nodded, more than likely too embarrassed to speak at the moment.

“Alright, lets go.” You walked over to the door with Peter right behind you, grabbing the keys from the small table next to it.

The both of you walked out, the sun was beaming down but a cool breeze evened out the temperature.

You unlocked the car doors, watching Peter slide into the passenger side quickly. You got into the driver's seat and started the car. You drove in silence for 20 minutes, every so often Peter would look over at you like he wanted to say something but would always go back to fumbling with his hands in his lap.

You decided to interrupt his anxious cycle, besides you were almost at your place of business and you wouldn’t be able to talk to him until after he was done with whatever work he has to do today or if he was suddenly brave enough to walk all the way up to your office on his own, which you doubted he would.

“Is there something you want to say, Peter?”

He stumbled and tripped over his words nervously, creating an illegible sequence of sounds.

“I can’t understand you, Peter, you need to relax..”

He stopped, taking a long breath before speaking again.

“If I wasn’t there, would you have killed that man?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

He didn’t want to talk about it but he felt like he had to know. Did he really change your decision that much? So much that you went from Yes Murder to No Murder in a matter of seconds.

“Probably. I don’t usually take any kind of disrespect from anyone, ever… But, you were there and I didn’t want to subject you to that, especially this early in the morning.”

There was a long silence after that.

Peter didn’t know how to respond and you had nothing more to say on the subject.

As you drew closer and closer to the large building both of you worked at Peter felt as though he should say something, you offered him a job, taken care of him while he slept and cooked him breakfast so he figured some sort of thanks was necessary. (You also didn’t murder a guy because of him but what ever.) By the time he figured out what he wanted to say to you, you’d already arrived at your destination but that didn’t stop him.

“I-I…” He started, but all the things he planned to say died on his tongue when you looked over at him.

His internal monologue turned to one word in that moment. Fuck, fuck, fuck…

He gulped, feeling a knot coil in his chest and in a very sudden moment his mind was on fire. Not a single coherent thought ran through his head and he felt his throat close up. So he did what he always did in moments of anxiety, he left. He opened the car door and ran into the building, not really realizing that you had to go in there too. But at that moment it didn’t matter, he had to get away. He had to get away from you, being in that car with you was throwing him into a weird anxious panic. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know why. But once he was away from you it got better.

You were less confused than Peter was, you’d watched him long enough to know that speaking was a problem for him. Especially in situations where he felt he needed to speak but he still felt rude and interruptive if he did. But then he was flooded with the many thoughts of how it could go wrong or how the other person, the other person being you this time, would feel, which would panic him and cause him to leave as fast as possible.

You understood, he was having a hard time speaking, he panicked, he left.

It was a bit rude of him to leave your door open but you could excuse it just this once.

You got out of your car, locking the doors then pocketing the keys. Slamming your door shut before walking around to the other side and closing the door that Peter had left open.

As you walked inside and up the stairs you could feel multiple eyes watching you. Before you disappeared up the stairs completely you looked down at the many low level idiots below, and then you spotted Peter. His cheeks were a dark pink and his eyes were teary, he stared down at his feet, tapping the left with the right every few seconds. He looked so upset, not quite sad or angry just…upset.

Seeing him like that hurt. It hurt a lot.

You made him feel that way, not intentionally, no. You would never, Still, he was feeling that way because of you.

You wanted to help him, to comfort him and tell him that everything was okay but you know that you had piles of work you couldn’t get behind on. They were important and then needed to be done. That had to be done, it wasn’t opsional.

And then you remembered something that made you want to grin like a cat.

This is your business. This was your building. These were your workers.

You were in control of everything that happened here, you chose what was important.

And what was important to you right now was that boy downstairs that was looking like a kicked puppy.

So you walked back down the stairs, cut through the large group of associates that flooded the lowest floor and got to Peter.

You gently grabbed his hand, holding it close to your chest and rubbing his palm slowly with your thumb. He didn’t meet your eyes only staring at your hand clasping his.

“Peter?”

He didn’t respond but you could tell he was listening.

“Would you like to go home?” You asked in a low voice.

He quickly shook his head no.

“Okay, okay...where do you want to go? I’m not letting you stay down here, not with how you are right now.?”

He looked up at you for a moment before slowly pointing to the ceiling with his free hand. It took you a moment to figure out what he meant.

“My office?”

He nodded and squeezed your hand tightly.

“Alright, lets go..”

In seconds you were pulling the shaking boy behind you up multiple flights of stairs. In the time it took you to get to your office you’d become winded, while Peter on the other hand looked almost completely fine. His chest rising and falling a bit faster than normal but other than that there was no indication that you’d dragged him up a shit ton of stairs.

Once you caught your breath you gently guided Peter to the chair he’d sat in the previous night. You leaned back against the front of your desk, your hands on either side of you, keeping you balanced.

“So… Are you feeling any better?”

He didn’t respond for a long while, and for a moment you thought he wasn’t going to.

“A little...I-” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to regain control of his thoughts, “I thought getting out of the car would help but just...being in there with all those people, I-it only made it worse. For a second I felt like I couldn’t breath, it was sudden an-and unexpected.”

You opened your mouth to say something but stopped yourself.

“Honestly I don’t understand why I was suddenly so nerve wrecked back in the car. I’d been fine the entire ride but at the end I just...wasn’t.” He looked up at you quickly. “I’m not always like this, I swear! I just…”

“You’re having a rough morning, I get it. It happens.”

“I-I know, I guess I should have at least tried to handle it a bit more professionally,” he muttered.

You laughed a little, pushing yourself off of the desk and leaning closer to Peter.

“I’ve seen you in your underpants, it doesn’t get more unprofessional than that..”

His face immediately flushed red, stammering he refused to meet your eyes, “Sorry about that…”

“Don’t worry about it, you were tired, it’s an easy mistake to make..”

“Yeah, at home. Not at the house of a man you don’t even know the name of.”

This made you freeze, had you really not told him your name?

You felt you face heat up, visible or not you brought your hand up to your face, shielding yourself from your own embarrassment.

“O-oh crap..” you muttered to yourself.

You cleared your throat, straightening yourself out in a moment.

“You’ll have to forgive me Peter, I hadn’t realized that I never told you..”

He looked up at you with a soft smile and said, “I-It’s fine, honestly. It was a simple mistake.”

“Well then, let me fix my mistake. I’m Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you..”

[professorrw]

All I Want, Remus Lupin Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty

Warnings: fluff, smut, death, violence, swearing, age gap, slight angst, major spoilers for Deathly Hallows, fingering, light drinking

A/N: We’re basically on the epilogue now! I hope you guys enjoyed this! If you did, like, comment, and reblog! If you would like to be added to my taglist (permanent or for this series) tell me and I’ll put you on there!

You woke up the next morning later than usual. There was nothing in your way of getting an extra hour or two in. There was no serious threat to face anymore. Because of everything you went through in the past several months, you deserved to rest peacefully and so did Remus, who was still asleep beside you.

You slipped out of bed silently and made your way down the hall and into the kitchen. Remus had almost always cooked you breakfast while you were together and you could return the favor. Thanks to Kingsley, you had access to yours and your parents' Gringotts vault, which meant you finally had money.

You went shopping for groceries yesterday when you were finished cleaning so the cupboards were stocked. You pulled out eggs and sausage from the fridge and got those started on the stove, listening to the satisfying sizzle of breakfast cooking.

A pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, startling you.

"Good morning darling, sorry to spook you," Remus said with a deeper morning voice. He rested his head atop yours, swaying slightly while you cooked. In the past three months you realized that Remus loved to have you in his arms. While you slept, his arms would snake around you, pulling you close to his chest. He would also put an arm around you if you were standing together. You didn't mind at all. You enjoyed being engulfed by his warmth and having him near you.

Remus moved from behind you to set plates on the dining table and get you both a cup of tea. This was how things would be from now on, you thought. You two would be together, getting to bask in simple, everyday pleasures.

You ate at a slow pace, enjoying the peacefulness.

While washing dishes in the sink there was a tapping at the window. You opened it, letting an owl hop in. He stuck his leg out, which held a letter. Remus moved closer, listening as you read it aloud.

"Dear Y/N and Remus,

I am delighted to hear you have settled in together. As you know, Hogwarts has lost it's Headmaster. Coming this new semester, I will be Headmistress. Being Headmistress, I am in charge of appointing professors, which we are lacking. Seeing as the Carrows have vanished, and I am no longer a professor, I am looking for three new ones. The position for Muggle Studies has been filled already, but Hogwarts is still in need of a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and a Transfiguration professor. If you two would do me the pleasure of taking on these roles, Remus returning to his position of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Y/N becoming the new Transfiguration professor, I would be profoundly grateful. I realize that you haven't had experience as a teacher, Y/N, but if you are to accept these jobs, then I would like for you to come to Hogwarts so I can teach you more of what you'll need to do. Please hurry in responding!

Your friend,

Minerva McGonagall"

Remus seemed astonished. He didn't believe he would be able to find a job so soon. It was out of pure luck that Minerva would ask the both of you to take on those jobs. You've never been a teacher before, but McGonagall knew you were interested when you finished your schooling.

"Well, what do you think?" you asked, turning to Remus.

"It's up to you dear. I personally would like to return. Do you want to teach though?"

"Yes, I would love to. I'll go write Minerva back to tell her we accept. I wonder when I'll have to leave?" You went to your bedroom, sitting at your father's old desk to write your letter.

"Dear Minerva,

We would be glad to take the jobs. Thank you for giving us this opportunity. Remus and I both are grateful to be able to get back into a normal life again. I would like you to know that I'll do my very best to teach the students of Hogwarts.

From,

Y/N Y/L/N"

You quickly sealed your letter and gave it to the owl. You didn't have any owl treats so you stroked it's head as it cooed at you. It flew off, carrying your letter in its talons.

You weren't sure how quickly you would receive word back from Minerva, but weren't surprised at all when the same owl showed up later that night. You once again took the letter from it, reading it aloud as you did her first.

"Dear Y/N and Remus,

Thank you for accepting the positions. If you are free, meet me at Hogsmeade at noon Monday. We can begin your training then. If Remus would like to accompany you, he is welcome.

Until then,

Minerva"

As McGonagall asked, you met her at Hogsmeade a few days later and began to learn all the material and spells you would go over. It wasn't hard, but you knew the difficult part would be getting the students to listen. You were only a few years older than them, and you were slightly afraid of them acknowledging your authority. Minerva assured you that they would take you seriously, and if they didn't they could speak to her personally.

You and Remus arrived at the school a few hours prior to when the students would arrive. You chatted with the other teachers, one of them being Hagrid, who was going to become the Head of Gryffindor. He confessed he was nervous but you knew he would be great.

As you took your place next to Remus at the teachers' table in the Great Hall, students began to fill in. Ginny was in her last year and Hermione was returning to finish her schooling. You told them that you would be teaching them and they were delighted. Harry and Ron decided they weren't returning, which bummed Hermione, but she was glad you and Ginny were still there. When you caught their eye at the Gryffindor table they waved at you and Remus. You both waved back and turned to watch the first years stream in.

The Sorting Ceremony took place and Minerva addressed the Hall, "Welcome, students, new and old, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am sure all of you are aware of the events that took place here a few months ago. I can assure you that all damages have been fixed and protection has been restored to the castle. I would like to introduce your new professors. Miss Y/N Y/L/N is the new Transfiguration teacher," when she said that you stood and bowed slightly before she continued. "Remus Lupin is returning to his position as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Remus bowed and smiled, "and Rubeus Hagrid is returning as the Care of Magical Creatures teacher and the Head of Gryffindor house."

The Hall erupted with cheers, mostly from the Gryffindor table. Hagrid blushed and smiled shyly, bowing to the students before sitting back down. Minerva announced a few other things and told everyone to eat. The atmosphere in the Great Hall was joyous. The tragedy from earlier that year was healing and everyone was ready to have a normal school year. You were one of those people.

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