#its just a bunch of theories i gathered and a bunch of mine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notanalligator · 8 months ago

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As far as I can recall, there are exactly no trees of any kind seen in Hallownest except for the White Lady herself, at least none that I would consider "normal."

In fact, the only mention of wood of any kind is to Zote's weapon, Life Ender, being made out of "shellwood." It doesn't look exactly like the wood used in the mines, but it's similar enough that they could come from the same source.

Since it is named shellwood, that could mean that there is no wood whatsoever and they can only get it from shells. Or that there is wood that just happens to be like shells. It's difficult to derive much from just its name, so I'll just throw a bunch of theories at the wall and see what sticks (ha!)

My first thought is the mushrooms in the Fungal Wastes, because while they are mushrooms and not trees, some of them also came to life somehow so the rules seem to be "fuck you" I guess.

They would be an easy construction material to gather, and they're at a very good midpoint in Hallownest that let's them feasibly be brought just about anywhere.

Another place worth looking at is the Mantis Village, a place made almost entirely out of some kind of wood like material, despite having almost nothing else nearby to work with outside of mushrooms. This could also explain why they built their village in the Fungal Wastes, an area that has almost nothing other than mushrooms, which is an odd place to live for a presumably carnivorous species.

There is one other resource they could be using, namely corpses.

Almost nothing else.

They have an entire storage area dedicated to keeping Mantis claws, which is extremely odd for people who are supposedly born with them. Given that the Fungal Wastes is seemingly lacking in so many resources, it could be considered wasteful to simply bury your dead before you take the rest of what they can offer you, chitin, claws, horns, all useful resources, they could be broken down and rebuilt into new homes and weapons, and given this new perspective, some of those weapons on their walls look remarkably like Traitor claws.

Of course, it's also possible that they simply make those tools, and that they are called mantis claws because they are claws, made by mantis.

And the problem(s) with the mushrooms being used as wood is that they are not the correct color for most of the wood seen in Hallownest, and they are more plentiful than I'd expect for a primary wood source of Hallownest. Admittedly it's not like we see their insides, and I don't exactly carry pictures of wood for every single location they are used in Hallownest on me just in case I decide to theory craft, nor do we know whether or not there used to be more than there currently are, so I'll move on to the next idea.

Another source of wood could be Unn, or more specifically, her followers.

Isma is the second most mysterious of the great knights, right next to Hegemol. The exact circumstances of her death are unclear, to the point that I'm not entirely sure that it counts as a death to begin with.

What we do know is that she turned into an immobile plant of some kind within her grove, as opposed to a... mobile plant of some kind, I suppose.

It's entirely possible that what happened to her is entirely unique to her, however it is also possible that this is something that can occur to any of Unn's followers.

All that comes from Unn comes from her dream, and all that comes from her dream seeks to one day return to it. When a Mosskin dies, the plants of Unn grow around them, swallowing them whole, and as the plant grows with the kin at their center, taking its nutrients from their body, and eventually, shellwood is made.

Now there's some problems with this, the first being the fact that the plant growing around Isma doesn't look particularly wood-like to me, but I'm not exactly a tree expert.

Another problem is that mosskin don't match the colors of wood, but that's solved by assuming that they are green because of chlorophyll (the stuff that lets plants absorb energy from the sun AND makes them green) and also assuming that the plant growing around Isma is absorbing that from her.

Although a Mosskin being dead would probably mean that they lose their chlorophyll eventually either way, I assume.

The biggest problem, however, is the idea that they'd give this wood to the rest of Hallownest. It's not impossible, really it's not even far-fetched, it's simply difficult to discern Green Paths relationship towards everyone else. The only opinion they express seems to be some sort of paranoia towards outsiders (the sign about how the White Lady "does not share their dream" which is somehow their only problem with her despite the fact that she has like a third of green path for herself. No seriously they don't even express an opinion on that. Really weird social standards.)

Also, Isma is the only person seen to turn into a plant. That's probably the bigger problem with this theory now that I think about it.

But I digress, let's move on.

Another potential source of wood is the thorns around Green Path and the Queens Gardens, which is a pretty straightforward theory. The only problem with it is that I don't see any thorns that were cut at any point.

And I don't think they're particularly wood-like but that's less important I suppose. Moving on.

There's also the other plant god that decided to move underground for some reason, the White Lady. Now, I'm gonna be honest, despite being the only one we can actually talk to other than Grimm, she is somehow the least mechanically understood higher being in Hallownest.

She does seem to have some different plants in the Queens Gardens as opposed to the typical ones from Greenpath, the main one being some sort of flower that has pale/clear... stamens? I'm not familiar with flower terminology but I looked it up and I think that's what they're called.

But either way, there does not seem to be growing wood of any kind except for herself within the gardens, so she likely did not grow wood while free roaming since they would presumably be there.

In the white palace however, there are many white thorns, which could've theoretically supplied Hallownest. This strikes me as the most feasible theory, regarding White Lady in particular.

But first off it's the wrong color (that does seem to be the biggest problem with most of these hm?) and secondly it seems somewhat unlikely that they just had thorns growing in the white palace. It's possible, but it could also be something that comes from PK's mind, much like how the buzzsaws probably weren't there in the real white palace because it would be insane for any servant to get around if that was the case.

The nursery room though, seems to have a chair that I can only assume has the silhouette of a younger WL.

She was way, way smaller then, than she is now, so it is possible that she herself was the supply of wood for Hallownest, growing and cutting herself down. The vessels also have a form of self healing which she may have used, but Hornet also has a form of self healing so that might just come from PK.

There also seems to be massive roots within the ancient basin that go from the ground to the ceiling, though it's not easy to tell if they come from WL or not due to the voids influence, I would assume so based on location. It does add more potential to WL being a supply of wood but wrong color blah blah.

Truth be told her influence is too vague for me to tell whether she actually grew a type of plant that grew those roots, or if those are just old extensions of herself. I'd also like to point out that since she isn't green, she probably doesn't have Chlorophyll.

That probably isn't relevant to anyone I just thought it was neat.

There's also the possibility that some of the glowing plants in kingdoms edge are trees from her, but I'm pretty sure someone else confirmed (through theory crafting (that is the only way to confirm 90% of info we have on this game)) that those were just pale ferns that started glowing cause they were near PK's corpse so I'll just move on, since I've spent plenty of time on WL already.

It is possible that there's simply a forest outside of what we can see in Hallownest, since technically we don't explore past kingdoms edge and there's nothing saying that you'd lose your mind if you went past that direction for a bit. It'd explain why the Hive is set up in such a strange spot, as far as possible from any kind of flower, (although my personal take is that they're actually carnivorous and don't need pollen (those mfers are not bees that turning your insides into outsides move is some nosk bullshit)) because they are looking for plants to the east. It's a pretty straightforward theory, that solves the bee problem (((THEY ARE NOT BEES.)))

It does have one problem, however. It feels like a lame copout theory because we don't hear of or see that forest, and I feel like I can do better.

For my last and most likely theory; Hallownest was probably a place that traded a lot. Bugs of all kinds from all sorts of places came through during its golden age, it's currently notorious for being a potential treasure trove (and death trap,) which tells me that they likely had geo to spare for wood, especially since places that had wood to start with would be less likely to have geo (it seems to only appear in underground places) which they could turn into metal. It's an easy, beneficial trade for both sides, and there's a small enough amount of wood in Hallownest that I could easily be convinced that they bartered for all of it.

Technically there's also the possibility that the wood comes from whispering roots, cut down by the moth tribe and made "real" somehow before they left The Radiance. It technically means that there is a forest, but you, (and in fact, almost everyone in Hallownest) just can't see it. But that's unlikely for obvious reasons, (although color wise I'm pretty sure it's fine. And that means it's canon baby /j)

And that's everything I can think of. Hope that helps!

Although in HK normal woods are barely seen(If I remember correctly), we see many wooden structures such as tunnels in Crystal Peak... I wonder if there used to be woods when White Lady was free?

#Mfw i accidentally deleted the first draft and had to write this a second time #reblogs #theory crafting #hollow knight #writing #notmyrambling #White Lady #Unn #Isma #i am a danger to people who ask one random question about a game apparently #this may have been excessive

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illyaana · 3 years ago

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Hey... Could you maybe... Could you make a oneshot consisting of Bakugou's older sibling reader (I'd prefer it to be gender neutral with a more masculine style, however you prefer) x Midnight? 🥺🥺 I love her so much and Horikoshi did her dirty. You can do whatever oneshot that you want/comes to mind, I just want something fluffy. Thank you UwU

Udk how much I squealed getting this as my first ask!

(also whoever you are you made my day/week/month (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ)

I agree, Horikoshi did her dirty. She had some moments but that was IT. I tried my best, hope you like it!!

(it's more of a you being a hero and being in a relationship with Nemuri rather than a one-shot surrounding your relationship, but there's a bunch of fluffy stuff at the end, so gehe-)

Tags: Midnight x Bakugo's Older Sibling! Reader, Binaural, Fluff, Minor Cursing, Mentions of Blood

Your Quirk: Liquid Maker - You conjure a liquid in your hands (smtg like sweat) when you want to and it can become anything. Name it, you got it hun <3

Synopsis: You are a hero (obviously gehe-) and you were catching some villains. Suddenly a huge explosion came from the middle of Musutafu and you headed straight to the crime scene.

Word Count: 2163

SFW Masterlist ◍ Navigation ◍ Requesting Guidelines ◍ Ask here!

You woke up to the sweet smell of smoke coming from the living room. Groaning, you got off your comfortable bed and raced to the living room to stop Bakugo from his daily antics.

"You really got to stop doing this in the morning, Katsuki," you told the younger male, "It's literally," you looked at the clock, "8 am in the morning and my half-asleep self could've gotten hurt stopping you from breaking all hell loose."

Katsuki scoffed while looking at you. "Why aren't you at work yet? As you said, it's already 8 am."

"Later shift today! I only start at around 10 am."

"Wow, aren't you lucky?" Katsuki said as he walked towards the stove, "I'm making pancakes, but I won't make even one for you until you go bathe. You look disgusting."

"Okay, okay." You say, raising your hands and rushing to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

After bathing, you head back into your room and began to wear your skin-tight hero suit.

You groaned slightly as you slowly pulled the form-fitting clothing up your body.

"I swear to God this isn't getting easier."

"You are literally a fatass, so I'm not surprised," you heard Katsuki scream from the kitchen, "I pity Midnight. The fact she needs to be around a literal piece of garbage who doesn't even look good."

"At least I have someone, unlike your childish ass."

"I am a child," he retorted.

You sigh as you open your room door and head back to the kitchen.

"One day, you're going to wish you were nicer to the people around you."

"Maybe," Katsuki said while passing you a plate with a stack of three pancakes, "...but I am pretty sure you aren't going to be one of them, judging by how much you baby me."

"But you are a child! Didn't you say so a few minutes ago?" you say as you pinch his cheeks, earning a growl from him, "Woah, calm down dog."

"Shut up and eat, fatass."

You chuckle at his words and proceed with the order given by your younger brother.

You loved getting later shifts on Fridays. These were the quieter days in the Bakugo household. Mom usually took her extra days off on Fridays like today, extending her weekend. Dad left for work earlier on Fridays but he'd always buy some spicy thing for Katsuki and you to have in the morning. Something to wish us a good day, I presume. And to top it all off, you and Katsuki would have these "sibling" moments, which mostly consisted of you annoying him to the point he'd lash out at you.

"You're a really good cook, Katsuki. These pancakes keep getting better!" you compliment the 10-year old.

And there it was: you entertainment of the day - Katsuki trying to say thank you but failing miserably thanks to his own pride as a "man".

"T-than- that's obvious, isn't it?" he ends, a blush present on his face, "I make pancakes every single time you have a later shift because you like it. If I'm getting better, that means you've been getting more later shifts. That means you've been slacking off, you stupid Pro Hero!"

"...how did you even get to that idea?"

After calming down a raging Katsuki, you put on your gear and head to the entrance of the house.

"Have a good day at school, Katsuki. Don't do anything you'd regret," you playfully warn him before leaving the house.

The streets of Musutafu were usually peaceful. Ever since All Might became the Symbol of Peace, the crime rates have dropped extensively. Yet, there are always one or two little naughty kids that wanted to play with their quirks - or in simpler terms, people who act like kids and try to do minor crimes using their quirks.

Using the liquid formed in your hands, you aimed at the legs of the two running males in black and wrap their legs together. Within a second, the liquid instantly formed into a rope and bounded their legs together, forcing them to fall face down.

"You both gave me a good morning run, thanks for that!" You say as you place two handcuffs around their wrists, "But you should seriously think about another hobby besides stealing."

From afar, you heard a loud boom coming from the middle of Musutafu.

In an instant, you formed another bunch of rope and tied the two males around their waist and pushed them to the corner of a building.

"Run away and you'll get more than just jail time," you say as you rush off to the scene.

The minute you reached the scene, your eyes widened in fear.

Endeavor was the reason behind the whole catastrophe here?

From behind, you felt a pair of soft hands touch your shoulder.

"I know what it looks like, but trust me it isn't," Nemuri started, "A villain that has a mind control quirk is controlling Endeavor from a distance. I've been trying to locate them, but no luck."

You smiled, looking at your girlfriend.

"You managed to get all of that in a few seconds?" you ask, amazed, "I got a good one, didn't I?"

You felt Midnight pinch you from behind.

"As much as I appreciate the compliment, now isn't the time to flirt with me," the female hero said.

You nod, washing away the playful smile.

"You get all the civilians out of here and contact the heroes through the network. I'll try to get him down and knock him out," you say. Nemuri nodded and began to gather the civilians away from the scene.

"Now," you turn to face the 2nd best hero, "How does one take down someone much, much more stronger than you?"

You slowly gathered your liquid in your palm, allowing the fluid to grow in volume.

"You defeating Endeavor would be a sight to behold, not going to lie here," the villain said through Endeavor, "But I am willing to test out that theory."

You lunged at the fire user while creating a fire-resistant rope to tie him down in your hand. In the other, you managed to conjure a Haladie sword - a sword you've trained with ever since your days in UA.

Using the sword, you managed to propel yourself above Endeavor and cut his back. Using the momentum you built, you used both your feet to hit the back of Endeavor's knees, forcing him to kneel.

You immediately stabbed his dominant hand, preventing him from reacting quickly.

With a snap, the Haladie sword transformed back into its liquid state and wrapped around his left hand.

"I was never planning on defeating Endeavor but merely securing him, dear villain of mine," you say as you transformed the liquid around his left hand into a quick-cancelling glove, "It’s one point for Y/N, right now. No point for little Mindy over here."

You began to build up more liquid in your hands to hopefully form another Haladie sword or at least a blade.

The controlled Endeavor began to get up slowly and turn to face you.

"I didn't peg you to be a dumb one, Y/N."

You felt a blade pierce through your stomach.

A civilian sobbed as they pressed the blade deeper into your body, your blood dripping onto their office coat.

"I can't believe you let your guard down so easily. It was your fault to assume I could only control one person at a time, little hero," the controlled civilian said midst crying.

"And that will be your downfall," Endeavor said as small flames began to grow from the palm of his right hand.

The knife that once was in your body was violently ripped out of your body by the controlled civilian and then used to kill themself by piercing their heart.

Tears fell as you saw the now lifeless male bleed to death right beside you.

"Oh don't worry," Endeavor said, "I'll make sure you also go with him, too. That small wound won't kill you, I know that."

You saw Midnight running towards you along with Eraserhead and All Might.

"You know, I always pictured you crying over a dead Nemuri Kayama whilst bleeding from your stomach, have you?"

Your eyes widened at the statement.

There was no way you were going to let that villain kill her.

"Eraser," you screamed, "Erase his quirk and get Midnight out of here."

'Please don't fail on my now, buddy,' you told to your body as you ran towards Endeavor, 'You still have to live for the people you love.'

You quickly formed another Haladie sword and vaulted from the floor towards Endeavor.

You managed to grab the hand aimed at Midnight and pushed it towards you. Using the remainder fluid you had, you formed another quirk-cancelling glove on Endeavor's right hand.

You could hear a sigh of relief from both Nemuri and Shouta, making you smile.

From afar, you heard All Might saying that he caught the villain that was controlling both the civilian and Endeavor. You were shocked when you heard the number one hero's laugh of victory.

You were amazed at the skill the male had.

A villain that took two people to search for was found by him in a few minutes.

Soon, the wound formed by the dead civilian began to take effect as your vision became hazy.

Before you could lose consciousness, you felt Nemuri's hands wrap around you, catching you before you fell.

When you woke up, you heard the sound of hospital monitors beeping. You felt a small hand gripping around your left hand.

"Why did you let them stab you, idiot," you heard your younger brother say, "Don't go teaching me a lesson with your death - it won't work."

You chuckled, looking at the younger blonde. "If this doesn't work on you, I don't know what will."

Katsuki began to sob on your blanket while gripping on the four fingers his small fingers could grip.

"It's okay, Kacchan," you saw a green-haired boy patting his back, "He is here and he is alive. That is all that matters, okay?"

You smiled, looking at the greenette.

"What's your name?" you ask him.

"I'm Izuku Midoriya! I'm friends with Kacchan," he says with a beaming smile.

"Kacchan, huh?" you tease, "You are really close friends with Kacchan, aren't you?"

Before Izuku could reply, you felt Katsuki pinch your leg.

"I don't even know why I care for you, you fatass."

"Oh, how you wound me," you feign sadness as the ten-year-olds left your room.

You smile at the sight of the greenette consoling your brother as they walk out of the room.

You look up to the ceiling, sighing.

"You are a bit too young to be sighing so loudly, Y/N," Nemuri said as she slowly opened the door, "I saw what you did there. Don't tease Katsuki so often, he is quite mature for his age, you know?"

You smile, looking at Nemuri with her hands on her waist.

"He's growing too fast. I need small moments like this to remember how innocent he is before he becomes the raging little twit I know he'll become."

"Woah, Woah, Woah," she says, laughing, " 'Raging little twit'? You really are a bad brother."

You begin laughing, "I have to be the playful one or else the Bakugo's would be a family of three brooding people and one peaceful man."

"True."

Your eyes widen.

"You aren't supposed to agree, you know?"

"My mother taught me not to lie," she says, smiling.

"Well, white lies aren't bad."

She sits beside you and holds your hand. Tears slowly escape her eyes as she looks at you.

"You are okay, right?" She says, sniffling.

You slowly wipe off her tears and put the palm of your hand on her cheek.

"I'm fine, Nemuri."

You slowly move towards her and place a kiss on her forehead.

You pat the empty side of your bed, "Want to join me?"

She slowly nods as she walks to the empty side of the bed and gets in. Her legs immediately wrap around your left leg as she places her head against your chest. Her left hand extends around your waist and hugs you.

"What are you, a koala?" you joke.

"What can I say? You are a comfy tree."

"Well, I am glad to be of service."

Soon, Nemuri goes to sleep. Soft snores can be heard from her as she rubs her head against your chest.

'The koala became a cat,' you thought to yourself.

Your right-hand goes to the top of her head, ruffling her hair.

"I love you so much, Nemuri Kayama. I always will. If I had to, I would gladly lay my life down so that you'd be safe. I know you're asleep and probably can't hear this, but you are the most important thing in my life - don't forget that," you tell her sleeping figure as you fall asleep.

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why-did-i-join-this-fandom · 4 years ago

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Simple Stars

Tsukishima Kei x Reader - Soulmate AU

Summary: [Y/N] gets a response from her soulmate for the first time in her life. While, in theory, this sounds great (and it is, don’t get me wrong), it isn’t so great when her soulmate turns out to be an absolute asshole.

Word Count: 1768

Warnings: a couple of swears, angst maybe???

Please let me know if you enjoyed this!! I’m always looking for feedback on my work. Let me know if you want a part 2!!

-★-

There were always new drawings popping up on Tsukishima’s skin. While Tsuki himself wasn’t artistic, it seemed that his soulmate was. Whether it was stars, flowers, words, or other things, there was always something new. This time it was stars.

“Oh, is your soulmate drawing again?” Yamaguchi spoke up as more ink stained Tsukishima's arms.

“Yeah.” Tsuki paused, letting out a huff of annoyance. “It’s getting kind of annoying. I keep having to wash them off before practice.” He glared at the little stars like they were his worst enemy. Sometimes he wished his soulmate would just stop.

“I think it’s cute. I wish my soulmate was as artistic as yours.” Yamaguchi sighed dreamily, looking down at the grocery list on his wrist. “But, I guess if it bothers you that much, you could ask them to stop.” He hated suggesting this. While he knew that Tsuki secretly liked the doodles, he also knew that Tsuki hated people seeing them.

The blonde hummed in response. Without hesitating, he dug through his bag for a bright red pen. This time, it would be him that wrote, not his soulmate. Wanting to get his point across, he wrote only 4 words.

“Stop it. You’re annoying.” The bright red and clear penmanship would ensure that his soulmate would see it.

“Tsuki, don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” Yamaguchi questioned. The blonde shrugged, putting the pen back in its rightful spot.

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s go.” No words were spoken after that. Yamaguchi just sighed and followed his friend to practice.

-★-

The world around you was loud, but all that you could pay attention to was the bright red. You almost hadn’t noticed it at first. Why would you? Your soulmate never wrote back. There were times where you wondered if you even had a soulmate.

“[Y/N], are you alright?” The feminine voice made you look up. It was your closest friend, Yachi.

She gasped at the sight of tears filling your eyes. She gently put her hand on your arm and pulled you from your seat. You didn’t protest and kept your head down, trailing after her. Most people got out of the way when they noticed Yachi practically barreling down the hall, but of course, there was one person who didn’t move out of the way. Your shoulder crashed with his and your eyes met. The tears had blurred your vision so badly that you couldn’t recognize the other student. A brief apology was thrown over his shoulder as he continued down the hall, trying to catch up with his friend. Your head turned back around, feet continuing to move, despite your shock.

“Where are we going?” Your voice cracks. It came out softer and weaker than you had meant, but that was just because you were crying.

“Somewhere quiet.” Her reply is followed by her hand slamming into a door.

“That’s the gym. It won’t be quiet.” You protest, barely noticing that she had stopped.

“The boys are stretching, they should be quiet for a couple of minutes. Besides, we’re not going in.” You almost forgot that she was the new manager for the boy’s volleyball team. Before you can doubt her, she continues. “Your soulmate is rude. Isn’t this the first time you’re hearing from them?” A nod of your head confirms her suspicions. You chat for another couple of minutes before you hear yelling from the gym.

Their shouts are muffled, but there are many distinct voices. The doors burst open and someone flies out before you can dodge them. Bright orange invades your vision and your breath is knocked from you. So much for them being quiet for a while.

“Ah! I’m sorry! Oh! Yachi! There you are!” The words come out so fast, you could barely comprehend them.

“Hinata! You knocked over [Y/N]-chan!” Yachi scolds, slightly panicking.

A hand is held in front of you and you grab it in a daze. “Oh yeah. I’m Hinata Shoyo! First year and the ultimate decoy!” He yanks you to your feet, almost causing you to fall over again. He’s small, bright, and heavy. You’re pretty sure you’re going to have a Hinata-shaped bruise from his impact.

“I’m sorry about him. Why don’t you come in and let Kiyoko-san make sure you aren’t injured?” Another voice chimes in. You hadn’t noticed, but practically the whole team had stepped out of the gym to see what was going on. He seems to notice your dazed state, and speaks up. “I’m Daichi Sawamura. I’m the captain.” His introduction causes the others to start to introduce themselves. They all seem a bit intimidating, but if Yachi can handle them, you can too. Right?

“Follow me, I’ll introduce you to Kiyoko-senpai and ask her to make sure you’re alright.” Yachi adds once everyone is done. You nod, a little overwhelmed by the amount of people and how tall they are. To be honest, you didn’t really catch any of their names. Still in a slight daze, Yachi grasps your wrist and guides you into the gym.

Introductions are made. You sit down as Kiyoko instructs you and go through a brief checkup. The typical “How many fingers am I holding up?” is asked and you answer. Nothing seems to be wrong, but Kiyoko still recommends that you go to a doctor to make sure. You nod in agreement.

“[Y/N]-chan, why don’t you stay until practice is over? Then we can walk home together.” Yachi suggests.

“Yeah.” You remember that you left your stuff in the classroom. “I need to go back to the classroom. I’ll grab your stuff too.”

“Yamaguchi, why don’t you go help her?” the captain suggests. You look at the man in question. He seems familiar, but you don’t think much of it. The first year nods his head and leads you out of the gym.

The walk there is mostly silent. There is occasional chatter from lingering students, but no words are exchanged between you and Yamaguchi. When you reach the classroom, you finally speak up, “Yachi’s desk is right there, just bring it over here and I’ll pack it up.” He doesn’t protest.

You pack both yours and Yachi’s stuff. As you put the last notebook in your bag, Yamaguchi finally speaks up. “I bumped into you earlier, sorry about that.” He sees the questioning look in your eyes and continues. “Yachi-chan was walking with you.” That’s where you remember him from.

“It’s alright. I guess you were in a hurry. I should’ve been paying more attention to where I was going.” You leave out why you weren’t looking, but he seems to know.

“No, no. I should’ve been more considerate. You were crying, so you couldn’t see.” He hesitates. “Are you okay? I know we just met [L/N]-san, but any friend of Yachi’s is a friend of mine.”

You lug the bag onto your shoulder and Yamaguchi carries the other. “I’ll be alright. My soulmate just wrote to me for the first time and I guess I got kind of emotional.” It wasn’t a complete lie. You did start crying because it was the first time your soulmate wrote to you. However, you continued crying because after all this time, your soulmate turned out to be an asshole.

“What did they write to you?” The question shouldn’t have taken you by surprise, but it did. Yamaguchi notices your shock and stammers. “If-if you don’t mind me asking, of course!”

You shake your head and chuckle. “No, it’s alright. I guess my soulmate is a bit mean. After all this time of wondering if they existed, their first words to me were ‘Stop it. You’re annoying.’” Yamaguchi stops walking. “Are you alright? Why’d you stop?”

He thinks for a moment before replying. “It’s nothing. Why don’t I introduce you to my friend when we get back?” You tilt your head in confusion, but nod nonetheless. You had already met most of the team, who else is he going to introduce you to?

-★-

When you finally get back to the gym, everyone is huddled around a tall blond. They barely notice that you have returned, but Yachi does.

“Thank you for getting my bag [Y/N]-chan!” Her voice brings the rest of the team’s attention. Before more chaos ensues, the captain tells everyone to go back to practice.

You sit on the sidelines with Kiyoko, Yachi, and who you think are the coach and teacher. Taking a purple pen from your bag, the idle doodling resumes. You end up getting so caught up in drawing the little stars, that you don’t realize that everyone has started to clean up. Had you really been drawing stars for that long? Everyone is talking amongst themselves as they clean.

“Tsuki, it looks like your soulmate started drawing again.” Yamaguchi sends a quick glance over to you before he calls out to the blond.

“Tch. It’s getting real annoying. Why didn’t they listen and just stop?” The blond’s complaint draws the attention of the team. They slowly gather around him and gawk at his arm. “I don’t understand why you guys are making such a big deal. It’s just a bunch of stupid stars.”

“Yeah, but someone must really like stars to draw that many!” Hinata yells, everyone nods or vocalizes their agreement.

There’s no way. Right? This couldn’t be your soulmate. You decide to test that theory and pick your pen back up.

“Woah! They’re writing again! What does it say? What does it say?” Hinata continues.

“Calm down, Shrimpy-chan. They just wrote ‘May the stars guide you to your other half.’ What kind of crap is that?”

“Tsukishima! You’re so mean!” Someone chimes in.

Your eyes widen in surprise. No way. There was no way this asshole was your soulmate. You notice Yamaguchi walking over. He sits down on the bench beside you.

“Tsuki can be kind of mean sometimes, but he’s okay once you get to know him.” He pauses, looking for the right words. “It’s probably better to tell him now. The longer you wait, the more he’ll be mad when he finally figures it out.” This little shit. He had a good point, but there was no way that you were going to tell him.

“No thanks.” You stand up without hesitation. There was no way that you were going to talk to Tsukishima after all of that. Yamaguchi calls out to you as you leave. While this draws the other’s attention, you don’t look back. You run as fast as you can. The tears start up again.

Part 2

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #reader #x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader

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disasterouslybisexual · 4 years ago

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Dream SMP Blue + red theories

(from an art nerd and dream SMP theorist)

Okay, so we all know about the existence of the egg and about the blood vines that have been spreading around the server for the past two-ish weeks. If you don’t know basically the egg is a… well it’s an egg, it’s made with a bunch of red blocks and when it’s uncovered it seems to spread a deadly aura that possesses members of the SMP when in its proximity not to mention it also spreads vines called “bloodvines” which have sprouted far and wide in every corner of the SMP. Now Badboyhalo (the engineer of the whole egg plot) has confirmed on stream that this egg has nothing to do with JSchlatt at all. So I’ve gathered a lot of information throughout these past few streams of the DreamSMP and I’ve come to the conclusion that this has something to do with Dream. And this theory has arisen from Karl’s stream “Tales from the SMP”. The pilot episode of the stream was basically them playing in the canon setting “The Town that went mad” as a twist on the Town of Salem, now they developed some interesting characters but the most interesting thing I’ve noticed is that dream is one of the only ones who didn’t change their skin. Which only confirms the recurring headcanon that Dream is immortal, so how does this tie into the blood vines? Well often times in storytelling, immortal beings have a source. Voldemort had his Horcruxes and Pennywise feeds off of fear, so what’s his source? I think it’s the egg. It’s been stated that Badboyhalo stumbled upon the egg and that it wasn’t built by anyone but has just been living deep in the core of the SMP. So what if it’s been lying dormant there for years...even back when that village that went mad first existed. Tubbo’s character Robin also said that his father had died in “the red-eyed village wars”, what else is red? The egg. Tubbo’s current character has also mentioned the fact that Dream has been present in all the wars that have occurred on the SMP, so what if that includes past ones? So if Dream has been around for years and the red egg is his source, what’s going on with the blue and red? I have one very well thought out a theory I developed with a fellow friend of mine. From the experiments that Badboyhalo conducted he had observed some of the behaviors of the egg. The egg absorbs other pieces of red and makes it white. While blue items absorb the red and become red, and white is not affected by the egg’s red.

Ghostbur, our resident ghost of the SMP goes around handing out a certain color… the color blue… which absorbs red. Now why would good ol’ ghostbur hand out the color that has the ability to absorb red...well what did Wilbur promise Dream before he died? What did he say? He said he was going to be his vassle. What if that compromise is still going on today? What if that’s his unfinished business and why he’s on the mortal realm. What if dream is telling wilbur to go and spread the blue so they will absorb the influence of the blue? He did say he was going to be his vassle and does have unfinished business.. So what if when you die, the blue absorbs the red and you become a servant under the red influence? Because Wilbur has handed out blue to almost all the people with little to no lives on the SMP, like tommy and tubbo. So how is the badlands under the influence but doesn’t have any blue? Well Skeppy was entirely blue and absorbed the red when in close contact with the egg underneath it’s obsidian shell. But Sam and Punz were in close contact and they didn’t take in their influence? And Wilbur was never associated with the badlands? Well Sam was handed 64 diamond blocks to build the prison so what if depending on whether you have red or blue the effects vary? Sam is under the influence to build the prison because of the blue handed to him in the form of diamond blocks and since he has 64 blocks it could be a ticking time bomb, Dream needs him to build the prison which may take a while so what if, it’s his way of protecting him from the egg for this time? Now the people with red getting absorbed by the egg, hence Bad and puffy. So what if the blue and red work differently? When you have red, it’s more potent and quicker to settle in but easier to dismiss while blue is more potent and takes a while to settle. He wants puffy, bad and ant to be quick while he wants sam and wilbur to be more long term. Puffy and bad’s skins both have red which could have easily been absorbed by the egg, while ant on the other hand has blue eyes. He was more hesitant to get rid of the vines than puffy and bad, that might be because of the blue’s effects. But this brings up another question, if white is the only substance we know of that’s neutral than why are the purple church prime suits used as hazmat suits? Well it’s simple, red and blue make purple which could cancel out the effects. And after Skeppy was trapped in the egg and came out red, the obsidian became crying obsidian...crying obsidian has hints of purple and the influence hasn’t been spreading around.

But that’s just a theory… A DREAM SMP THEORY

#dream smp #dream smp theory #dreamwastaken #blue and red #bloodvines #the egg #purple #punz mcyt #awesamdude #antfrost #badboyhalo #badlands

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ribcage-rodents · 4 years ago

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Post four

“How did you know that?”

Robin

Robin’s glowing eyelets appeared as he swung hanging upside down from a tree branch.

“Tall, buff, inhumanly strong woman wearing rustic leather armor.. Pretty obvious.”

He then swung back up.

Wonder Girl

Hesitantly she followed him up.

More time passed as the two crawled up the tree Robin using his mask to see and pick fruit, then tossing it to Wonder Girl who dropped them on the ground, neither had a basket and Wonder Girl’s other hand was occupied by something that she used to see in the dark bc it's night rn and I didn’t think that through.

Robin

“Do you have a plan?”

Robin asked as he pulled another fruit down.

Wonder Girl

Wonder Girl caught the fruit staring at the floating white eyes.

“Plan?”

Robin

“A plan to get off the island, you’re the team leader right?”

Robin said as he maneuvered his way up to a higher branch.

Wonder Girl

Wonder Girl followed after him.

“No, we don’t really have a leader, we’re all working together as a team.”

She stopped, pulling on a mango until it snapped from its branch and letting it fall to the ground.

“Do you have a plan?”

Robin

“An inkling,”

He responded sounding far away,

“There’s a lot of trees and vines, fruit too. I was thinking of building a raft.”

A couple seconds passed as both thought this over.

Robin

“You know it might work better with your team, I mean you have an Alantian right? He could help steer and-”

His voice got quieter and faster as he spoke, seemingly falling away from the situation as he neared the brink of an epiphany,

“Kidflash could be a sort of motor.. We could make a compass out of Speedy’s arrows maybe..unless mine is still working, and Wonder Girl could definitely help build the raft… assuming that Amazons are trained in desert island raft making…. Maybe she knows how to make a compass.. If only we could solve this with like a sword fight.. Then we could just do it and the others would be an emergency back-up..wait! That's it Wonder Girl can help cut down the timber.”

Wonder Girl

“Hey Man of Mysteries, focus!”

Wonder Girl called peering into the dark tree line for any sight of Robin.

Robin

Suddenly he dropped to the branches in front of her.

“I think we got enough, we should get this back before he dies, plus we need to work shop our escape plan.”

Robin stooped down and grabbed an armful of mangos before running off into the woods.

Wonder Girl

Wonder Girl stood staring after him.

“Since when is shadow demon part of our team?”

She then grabbed as many mangos as she could and followed after him.

Scene 13

Garth

As the two heroes emerged from the jungle mangos in their arms, Garth stood up from the freezing water.

“Where is he here!?”

He growled. Speedy twisted to look at them, his eyes popping wide before his face was transformed into one filled with anger.

Speedy

“Yeah get that demon freak outta here?!”

Speedy yelled reaching back for an arrow but finding nothing.

Wonder Girl

Wonder Girl dropped the mangos at his feet then held a hand hard on his shoulder.

“Speedy shut up!”

Kidflash

Robin bent down next the Kidflash slapping him lightly holding a mango under his nose, Kidflash stirred briefly blinking his eyes blearily, a heavy hand coming up to bite the given fruit. After four mangoes Kidflash started to gain a better grasp on his consciousness, upon noticing who was caring him Kidflash revolted.

“Ah! Demon dude, demon dude!”

Robin shut Kidflash by handing him another mango then completely ignored him, Kidflash’s head whipped to his teammates looking for any amount of alarm when he was met only with Speedy’s rage and Garth’s annoyance he settled.

Robin

Robin stood tossing a mango to each hero,

“I’m here because I have a plan that’ll save us, but it’d work better with your team.”

Wonder Girl

Wonder Girl spoke up before any of the others could.

“What’s the plan?”

Robin

“Raft, we’ll need to gather supplies and some more fruit for Kidflash. Wonder Girl take Speedy and Garth out to the jungle,”

He pulled a batarang form his belt flicking it transformed into a battleaxe, he pulled two more turning them into different swords.

“As the strongest of the group you should be able to get some thick logs for the raft.”

Robin handed the weapons over to Wonder Girl.

The trio of heroes descended into the woods Wonder Girl handing a sword and battleaxe to the boys.

Kidflash

Kidflash paused in his frantic eating,

“Hey I’m strong too!”

He cried standing up to the other boy.

Robin

Robin regarded Kidflash with a bored look, pulling out another batarang to slice open the mango.

“You’re a speedster, your strength comes from your speed. You can knock a baddie out with your pinky if you go at the right speed. You’d be able to to get us timber but the forest is thick you can’t run full speed to knock a tree down, plus it’d be overly destructive.”

He went to pop a slice into his mouth but seemed to remember that he was wearing a mask and stopped.

“And you’re pretty smart, I realize that building a raft isn't exactly science but I think you’ll be more useful with me.”

Kidflash

Kidflash stopped eating to retort, his eyes becoming daggers.

“How do you know that I’m good at science?”

Robin

“Well, the Flash got his powers form a science experiment therefore his sidekick probably got his powers the same way,”

Robin went to turn away.

Kidflash

Kidflash followed after him cautiously.

“How’d you know how the Flash got his powers?”

Robin

Robin stopped twisting to look at the other boy cocking his head to the side.

“News interview, aired a couple of years ago, caused a bunch of school science classes to be banned,”

Kidflash

Kidflash’s eyes went wide and a splotchy blush rose up on his cheeks.

“Oh right, the interview,”

Scene 14

Robin and Kidflash bent over the beginning of the raft, tying a few more logs together with vines and some spare rope Robin had.

Robin

Robin pulled on a vine tightening the knot.

“Hey I get that I’m a stranger that was fighting with only a couple of hours ago, but maybe you could tell me how Captain Cold’s tech works I have a couple of theories,”

Kidflash stared at him contemplative but a smile slowly slid onto his face.

Scene 15

The three teens wandered through the jungle looking for low hanging fruit, Speedy snuck a glance at Wonder Girl moving to bump shoulders with her.

Speedy

“Are you sure we can trust Smudge Boy? I mean wasn’t he trying to kill us like.. Five minutes ago.”

Wonder Girl

Wonder Girl rolled her eyes.

“No, but we don’t really have any other choice right now, so at least for tonight ‘Smudge Boy’ is a part of the team.”

Wonder Girl walked ahead leaving Speedy to glower behind her.

Garth

Garth had ventured ahead of the other two heroes, ducking behind a tree he pulled out a slim necklace with a small pendant and raised to his mouth.

“Log day #1, these ‘heroes’ are just children in ridiculous outfits. So far during this mission the land dwellers have only fought one another and come up with useless nicknames. I think taking them down will be easier than we originally planned.”

Wonder Girl

“Garth! Come help us bring the extra fruit back!”

Wonder Girl called from where she and the still pouting Speedy were loading themselves up with freshly picked mangos. Garth emerged from the dark trees tucking his necklace back into his shirt.

Scene 16

Robin

Robin stood up dusting his gloved hands off.

“Alright Kf, I think it’s done!’

Kidflash

The bright smile fell of Kidflash’s face, he looked at the ground.

“Ok I can do this, just say something cool and relatable, Uncle B’s right I’ll have a friend in no time.”

Kidflash muttered quietly to himself, he looked back up at Robin.

“So who do you think the hottest girl in the JL is? Wonder Woman is a classic bombshell but Black Canary is super hot!”

Robin

Robin whipped around a fierce glare on his face draining all the color from Kidflash’s face.

“That’s disgusting. You do realize that those women are crime fighters who save the world on a monthly basis and their cities daily? And their suits are clothing they feel comfortable fighting in, not something they use to impress others and even if they did want to impress someone it wouldn’t be some greasy little teenage creep.”

Robin’s voice was stone cold.

Kidflash

Kidflash’s face flushed red again as he stood up at super speed.

“What kinda guy doesn’t like girls in leotards! What are you gay or something?!”

Robin

Robin rolled his eyes behind the mask and turned to look bordly at Kidflash.

“A guy who doesn't objectify women?! He must be gay. But oh no Kidflash you’ve spent the whole night with me, what if you’ve caught my gay!”

Robin mocked jumping at Kidflash who fell into the sand and panicked despite the angry look on his face.

At that moment the three other teens emerged from the tree line.

Robin

Robin whipped around a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Alright let’s head out!”

Speedy

Speedy’s face twisted into a snarl.

“Dude what?! It’s like 6am, we’ve been up all night dontcha think we should get some sleep?”

He asked patronizingly, looking over at Wonder Girl for support.

Robin

Robin raised a single eyebrow, his eyelets widening.

“No, we need to head out as soon as possible our mentors are probably tearing apart the city looking for us.”

The teens shared a look before Wonder Girl grabbed one corner of the raft the other teens followed suit minus Kidflash who busied himself with eating.

Wonder Girl

“So, who’s your mentor?”

She asked in a hushed voice looking over at Robin, who was carrying the raft in one hand and trying to fish his compass out with the other.

Robin

“I don’t think I can tell you that,”

Robin answered in the same tone of voice, his eyes shifting over to her.

Wonder Girl

Her eyes narrowed inspectfully.

“Are you an assassin?”

Robin

“No,”

There was a lit of humor in his voice as he finally pulled his compass out. A somewhat pleased smirk over came Wonder Girl’s face as she climbed onto the raft next to Robin.

Speedy sat closer to Wonder Girl than necessary, while Garth was sent to the front and Kidflash dangled off the back.

Robin

“Alright Kidflash use your super speed to propel us forward as quickly as possible without sending us to a different dimension, um.. Aqua..Lad? Uh you’re gonna shift the water to make sure we keep going in the right direction.”

Garth

Garth glared at Robin as he went to hand over the compass, his gaze hardening futher when Speedy snorted at the name making some comment on how that should be his new nickname.

“I can’t just water bend at super speed, it’s a delicate process.”

Robin

“Fine, I’ll keep track of the direction and make sure Kidflash stays on track.”

Kidflash made an angry noise from where he was freezing in the cold water.

Kidflash kicked off and the group descended through the fog at lightning speeds, Speedy grabbing onto Wonder Girl’s solid form to keep from flying off into the ocean. After several minutes the group smacked against the beach hard the heroes went flying. Robin was the first to recover dusting the sand from his clothes and disappearing in the early morning light. The others slowly groaned back to life.

Scene 17

The team picked their way through the boardwalk stopping at the first open business they could find. The manager of the restaurant handed over the company phone to Kidflash in a daze.

Speedy

“No! No way I am not getting picked up by Green Arrow like some loser kid at a party.”

Speedy went to take the phone away but KidFlash sped out of the way, dialing and redialling, his gloved fingers moved too quickly across the screen.

KidFlash

“Hey Unc- I mean Flash!”

Kidflash sped away from Speedy to the other side of the room to avoid another fight.

Scene 18

All four heroes stood in the town square of the small, bustling city as a shimmering outline of Wonder Woman’s plane landed beside the large fountain the kids gathered at. The corresponding mentors and Batman exited the invisible jet, Flash was quick to envelop Kidflash in a hug.

Speedy

Speedy chuckled, sneering at Kidflash being crushed, his face turning that familiar blotchy red as he loosed his grip around his uncle in uncertainty. Speedy’s tormenting was cut short by his own mentor pulling him into an all too parental bear hug complete with wet kisses to his forehead and hair petting.

“Ugh!”

Speedy groaned desperately trying to free himself from Green Arrow’s embrace. Green Arrow did let go, chuckling as he did so attempting to ruffle his hair one more time but Speedy slipped from his range angrily fixing his hair and shoving his hat back on.

Black Canary slipped behind Speedy wrapping him in a much more gentle hug, he seemed only slightly less annoyed. Batman lagged behind as Aquaman slowly walked toward Garth, a stern look on his face and Wonder Woman rested a comforting hand to her little sister's shoulder.

#dick grayson #wally west #roy harper #donna troy #garth #teen titans!fab five #writing is hard

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baby-impalas · 5 years ago

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make a wish

pairing: bill denbrough x reader

warnings: fluff, unedited, swearing

word count: 1688

might make a part two ! idk yet :)

another night.

another stupid night not a single one of your so called ‘friends’ had contacted you. you had five close friends, and lately you’d felt as though they didn’t really care much for you. so, you ran a little experiment: wait for them to get ahold of you instead of vice versa, which was how it usually happened. and for three weeks none of them called or stopped by. you’d have to face them all next week when school started, and you still weren’t sure how you would handle things. if you’d act like nothing ever happened or give them a piece of your mind. until you saw them you couldn’t know for sure.

the sting of betrayal was making you stir restlessly in your bed one particular friday night. the clock beside your bed read 2:17. was it too late to go out?

not if your mom didn’t catch you.

so, you grabbed your skateboard and hopped out your bedroom window, walked to the edge of the roof, and jumped off. it wasn’t far - maybe one story since the roof was slanted. this was a common activity for you. not that you snuck out a lot to go party or whatever - skateboarding at night was the biggest stress reliever you had up your sleeve. it seemed odd and was probably dangerous considering you were a teenage girl out on the streets in the middle of the night, but you did carry a pocket knife.

it wasn’t cold, but it definitely wasn’t warm either. you didn’t mind - you’d been out in single digit weather before. eventually, the cold just sorta faded into numbness.

you placed your board in the middle of the road, balanced a foot in its designated spot, and took off. finding a comfortable place for both your feet to rest took a little while at first, but the more you practiced the quicker you found that perfect spot, and the quicker you could surge down the street.

pushing off again and again, you flew down the road just as all your previous concerns about unloyal friends soared from your mind. skating required focus and balance. it was the perfect distraction.

especially when your wheel caught on a rock halfway down the street and you hit the ground with a thud before rolling into the grass. your knee throbbed as you glanced up to the parking lot and soccer field that stretched out ahead. this street was home to said soccer field along with a park close nearby. neither were really your thing.

the pressure of the ground on your knee sat you up, and you leaned your back against a street sign pole. pulling up your sweatpants revealed a bloody cut the size of your middle finger. it wasn’t really a big deal - nothing you hadn’t handled before. plus the scars always looked cool.

“excuse me,” the voice was gentle, but you jumped nevertheless.

a boy about your age was standing timid with a kind face in the middle of the street. he was holding your board.

“i was on my p-porch and saw you f-f-fall,” he carefully reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin piece of paper. “b-brought you a b-bandaid.”

he held out both the board and bandage to you.

“thanks,” you said, accepting the items from his hands. the board you set down - the bandage you placed over the cut. you could clean and disinfect later.

“yeah.” a brief, slightly uncomfortable silence. “c-can i sit?” “sure.”

the boy did just that, leaning up against the pole with you. he crossed his legs and his hands sat in his lap, his thumb casually stroking his palm.

“i’m y/n,” you said, deciding to break the silence because, hey, the kid did bring you a bandaid.

“i’m bill,” he said, turning to look at you.

“why are you up so late?”

“i w-was looking at the stars,” he said.

“they are pretty,” you said. “sometimes i’ll just stare at them out my window. i read somewhere that when people die they turn into a star. kinda morbid to think that you’re looking at a bunch of dead souls, but i think i’d be okay with dying if it meant getting to be that beautiful and tranquil.”

okay so maybe you rambled just a little when you were nervous. why were you even nervous? this was just some random kid who gave you a bandaid at 2 a.m…

a random kid who was kinda cute. “i haven’t heard that before. that’s a n-nice theory.” now, you weren’t psychic or anything, but you’d always been really good at reading people. it was like your sixth sense. and right then, reading bill, you knew he’d lost someone close to him.

probably best to not ask about it - if he wants to talk about it he will.

“do you g-go to sc-school in derry?” he said.

“yeah. i’m in nineth grade. what about you?”

“eighth.”

“to tell you the truth, most of my friends are kinda being jerks right now. i don’t really wanna go back,” you said.

bill turned his body to face you.

“i’m f-fighting with mine t-too,” he gave a supportive smile at the end, but you knew the situation with his friends was really eating him up inside. his face gave away his sadness, despite him trying to hide it.

you gathered up all the courage you had, and placed a hand on top of his, which was resting on his knee. bill looked at your overlapped hands, then back up at you. he gave you a shy smile.

“whatever it is, i’m sure you guys can work it out. and if not, then… they’re not worth it anyway. what happened, if i can ask?” you said.

bill seemed to hesitate. maybe whatever happened was his fault - maybe that’s why it was eating him up so much.

“we just… h-had d-different ideas of what to d-do this summer.” he said.

bill was staring at your overlapped hands, seemingly deep in thought. he placed his free hand over top of yours and began rubbing slow circles on your dorsal with his thumb.

“that doesn’t sound terrible,” bill looked up at you as you paused. “i think you guys can get through it.”

he smiled at you. it was a little lopsided, but it was beautiful. you found yourself smiling back without meaning to.

“thanks,” he said. “wh-what about you and y-your f-f-friends?”

suddenly you felt bad troubling him with your stupid friendship problems. you just wanted to talk to bill, learn about him. learn what he liked and disliked, learn what he thought about life. you were in so deep already and you’d just met the kid. probably partly because of that stupidly adorable, shy smile of his.

and the fact that him rubbing circles on your hand was giving you intense “butterflies” in your stomach. who knew those were a real thing?

“it’s nothing, really. they just haven’t really been talking to me.”

wow okay. you sound like a total loser. nice.

“they d-don’t deserve you,” bill said without hesitating. he was looking in your eyes again. “you s-seem like a great f-friend.”

“me?” you laughed. “you brought some random girl a bandaid in the middle of the night because you saw her fall off her skateboard,” bill laughed. of course, that, too, was stupidly adorable. “i’m sure you’re an amazing friend.”

you smiled at him, and he was smiling back. the night was quiet around you, nothing but crickets disturbing your comfortable silence. you looked down and began picking at the grass around your legs with your free hand.

“th-there’s a meteor shower tonight,” bill said. “h-have you ever seen a shooting star?”

you nodded.

“a couple times, yeah. i always wish on them.”

“m-me t-t-too.”

upon glancing up, you noticed that bill had been staring at you. not in a creepy way. more so observant than stalkerish.

you opted for looking at the stars, then intertwined your hand with his. butterflies (yes, mother fucking butterflies) were fluttering like crazy in your gut and throat. you could feel bill’s eyes on you, but couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. instead, you spotted a moving spark of light amongst the clouds.

“make a wish, bill,” you said, gazing at the shooting star as it made its way across the sky.

the star disappeared, and you turned to look at bill, who you knew was already watching you.

“i w-wish for—“

“no shh!” you pressed a finger to your lips, halting bill’s words. “you can’t tell me. otherwise it won’t come true.”

bill glanced at the ground (or at your intertwined hands, you couldn’t really tell).

“then i w-wish you wouldn’t kiss me,” he said.

after a pause, he met your eyes, his face holding a tentative look that just about melted your heart. he was obviously nervous as hell, his one hand was rubbing an anxious thumb over your own, and his eyes held the fear of rejection.

slowly, you moved toward him, inching your bodies closer until your legs were touching and your faces were inches apart. up close, he smelt of rain water and freshly cut grass — a breath of fresh air.

“i wished for this, too,” you mumbled, your eyes tracing the surface of his face.

bill closed the space between your lips before you could. the hand that was holding yours came up to cradle your face instead. it wasn’t fervent or rushed, just a gentle mesh of your lips.

you and bill breathed the same air for a little while afterwards, neither of you saying anything but not moving away from each other. you weren’t even looking at each other — just existing temporarily in your shared space.

this moment belonged to you, bill, and the stars.

“do you w-wanna come over tomorrow?” he said, finally breaking the silence.

“yeah,” you said. “i’d like that.”

“i’d like that too.” his voice is quiet, almost a whisper, but it’s enough to make you smile.

maybe you didn’t need your shitty friends after all.

#bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough #fluff #bill denbrough imagine

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yeocult · 4 years ago

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ateez film diary analysis

ok i am currently typing with tears in my eyes but that’s cool!!!! gonna talk about ateez diary film for a moment. btw if you’re here for theories, this might not be for you, my brain is not capable of that critical thinking lmao. although, i will be rambling/analyzing the cinematography and overall admiring the film!! under the cut because this happened to be 1.5k words oops.

man, first of all, 16 minutes?? thank you for the food kq!! i think their concept is super cool. it’s unpredictable, refreshing, and just gives me a lot of high hopes for this comeback. ateez never disappoints, they come back each time stronger and better.

“this is the story where their dimensions are split into eight pieces again.” that kinds hurt me. throughout the film we see clips of them being happy and joyful with each other, but we also see scenes where they’re all alone. they didn’t get separated by losing contacts or whatever, literally dimensions.

phew okay, when the man with the black fedora approaching hongjoong like that was soooo dskjdj ugh i love it when they have a bright light in the back, capturing the silhouette perfectly. sorry i’m such a sucker for those types of shoots!! now hongjoong’s dream. “the world inside a television cannot be reached. the world they live in and the world that i live in is blocked.” yea.. they’re separated from dimensions. isn’t that so heartbreaking?? separated by time and space.

um this might be a huge stretch, plus i’m horrible at science. i’ve read a lot of articles on where, ‘if time stopped would gravity still apply?’ and i thought of this because of the items floating up around hongjoong. without time, gravity, acceleration, speed and force are simply meaningless, so i guess that’s why it’s floating? as if we’re going back in time. there’s a lot of consequences and weird things on going back in time/time travelling (most famously the ‘bootstrap paradox’) because time is not an object and cannot ‘go’ anywhere at all, not forward, not backward, nor can it stop. so i expected some not so happy events to occur.

anyways moving on to seonghwa’s memory. i loved this. “i thought i lacked in many areas and have much to learn.” then we see a bunch of to-do lists and i guess they’re kinda like goals to accomplish or things he wants to learn. the somewhat long shot of him sitting on this table and the camera moving away from him gave me a sense of isolation (i also don’t know why yeo in the smn box is on the tv but it could mean he’s trapped). we also see him walking straight, kinda like following a straightforward path with a lot of control, hence the to-do lists. then he hits stops. now the girl is the total opposite of seonghwa. she’s dancing, moving, and overall carefree i would say. everything seonghwa is lacking. she’s freedom. i don’t have much to say about this scene but i really like how when he was walking one step at a time, it was completely dark. but as soon as it hits stops and sees her, there were lights.

now my favourite, wooyoung’s choice. that transition to seonghwa’s little emo time to wooyoung’s hyped underground music and dancing was the serotonin boost i needed. let’s talk about his ponytail because it made me a whole simp for him. plus he’s so fucking cool?? if i become a wooyoung biased soon, you know why. he talks about stage fright and the scene where people were looking down at the camera was perfect, low camera shots show dominance or superiority. when you have stage fright, you’re worried and insecure about your abilities (at least that’s how i feel) and with people look down at you is almost like they’re judging and aren’t expecting much from you. ateez brings him courage and reassurance, they give him strength. the last scene with the rain and the flickering light so chilling. its almost like the rain washed away his everything.

yeosang’s time giving me slight dark academia vibes and i’m here for it!!! also bird metaphors?? yes please! “limited freedom. like a bird in a cage.” we see yeosang in a room surrounded by other musicians but he isn’t playing his instrument. almost like he doesn’t wanna be there or has no real passion for this field. hence him talking about ‘expanding his dreams’. we get a close shot at his face looking forward to the right, i feel as if he’s daydreaming or reaching out. taking back to say my name, we have yeosang trapped inside that box, almost like the birds with limited freedom. he drops his violin and suddenly the birds (they symbolize peace, transformation, freedom and power) are free, giving us a scene with his friends. he’s free.

san’s resolution might just be my favourite in terms of cinematography. can we just talk about the long amount of time san has the stay put for the timelapse to work?? the scene wins my heart. now we see the classroom in a mess, meaning school was never enjoyable to san. always moving and no friends. the way he’s moving seems like there’s not much he can do in his life. the escalator scenes kinda look like the one in wonderland. time is always moving, the escalator moving, and san runs back up despite it moving in the opposite direction. im not sure where i was going with this but i thought i was kinda cool, how he’s running back up to be with his friends.

next, we have yunho and his brother. in a matter of seconds, all the light in the studio flicker and turns off. this is quite similar to the flicker lights in wooyoung’s last scene. there’s a pattern here with flickering lights and how it means lost and loneliness. we don’t know what 5:07 mean, maybe its completely relevant but knowing kq and their team, almost everything seems intentional. also i saw on twt (not my analysis) but seonghwa’s to-do list includes a task of learning how to drive, then we get yunho getting hit by a car. not sure where i got from this but i thought i would include it.

actor jongho!!!! he’s so good i love him. ok so we get that basketball was his dreams but due to his broken leg, it seems impossible for him to pursue that dream. we him sitting at a distance, admiring the game and the people who are able to play. but when he’s in the court, he’s all alone (might just be because he can’t go in court when other people are playing but just let me be deep for a second oki). the burning basketball means he cannot play again. then the fight scene between him and mingi. i want to talk about the camera work for a second. it’s unstable, harsh and a little unfocused (because it’s handheld) and it makes it seem like another member’s pov, pushing the realism on us. hmm this might be kinda dumb but the loud bang when mingi got pushed was a little unexpected hence every scene with the boys was all very calm and had music in the back, no sounds. idk just a noticed. ohmygod another silhouette scene with beautiful lighting in the back!!!! the camera is moving away from him, moving away shows weakness. i loveee this so much along with the smoke. his dreams are burning up, literally.

last we have mingi’s diary. “earphones in my ears, the world is mine for now.” again, similar to seonghwa in the dark walking, mingi is isolating himself from the world. he’s using music to escape from reality. mingi looks trapped by the way its shot, cutting off his forehead and lips only showcasing his eyes and nose. this could be his facial features are more important than anything else right now. the camera angle is below mingi, again with the dominance and superiority… because he literally kicked someone. but still the same camera angle except this time mingi is looking up at the sky or forward, not looking down. with that, mingi no longer looks intimidating, he seems slightly vulnerable. and i think that’s really powerful how quickly he transitions despite the same angle. so we know mingi uses music as an escape, “i would rather be alone than encounter the world.” then we see yeosang (by his flannel) taking off his earphones. bringing him back to reality with the boys, and everything seems a lot more peaceful. its kinda like, without his friends, he would rather be isolated. now i want to point how the loud bang from jongho’s shot. it’s literally the same shot but the noise isn’t there indicating that mingi has earphones in (i think even when they’re not literally in, he still shuts out noise), shutting off the noise. i think the little details were so well done. we also get a match cut of mingi blinking, back to the darkness. i think it shows how quickly things can be taken away from you.

MAN THE SCENE WHERE THEY ALL GATHER TOWARDS HONGJOONG JAKJDSJKSDJKSD I CANNOT BREATHE IT GAVE ME SO MUCH CHILLS MYGODDOO !!!!!! like that scene in say my name. gotta love the build up of the song then it drops when the members all show up UGH I LOVED THAT SOO MUCH!! “the memories of short happiness. and dreams broken into pieces” brb gonna cry. the hourglass is finished,, what does this mean? ;o also i cant help but to notice the lighting on how one side is dark and the other has light. this could just be for aesthetics but idkkkk just another notice.

hehe sorry this made no sense,,, anyways that’s all i have to say, i’m so excited for their comeback <33

#h.txt #pHEW #haha dont clown me i know nothing about film #also send me your thought?#i would love to talk about cinematography!!#ateez #might add on to this later!!#moon talks

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rosemakh · 4 years ago

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Talking Topics with Taika - Episode 2: Weatherliness

[spoof interview show with call-in listeners and guests]

[Author's Note: This was originally written in 2014 as a script for an audio series. I wrote two episodes but was unable to continue the project. This is the re-written version, with visual descriptions added as needed. It reads sort of like a script. Just imagine this as a televised talk show with guests seated on a stage, in front of a studio audience.]

Taika: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we tackle an issue that affects the life of every living thing on this planet: Weather Change. With the Weather Awareness Conference taking place in Tornado, West Virginia this weekend, Weather Change is once again a hot-button topic. There are many opinions and hypotheses surrounding Weather Change. Tonight's guests are here to help us sort through it all. Please welcome to the show:

Virga Gale, author of "Weatherliness: How to Weather the Weather without Becoming Weathered, Whether You Want to or Not";

Virga: "Thank you, Taika"

Taika: "Thisisa Nalias, founder of Caring Responsibly And Providing Offerings Lovingly Annually;"

Thisisa Nalias: "Thanks a bunch, Taika!"

Taika: "and Foliaj McGreenly, author of "People are Plants Too: the Complete Guide to Living Without Eating or Drinking."

Foliaj: "I thanketh thee~!"

Taika: "Why don't we start by defining the topic at hand. Miss Virga, what exactly is Weather Change?"

Virga: "It's weather that changes, Taika. Because the weather seems to be changing all the time, we think this is the way things should be, but as I explain in my book "Weatherliness" (which, by the way is available now in bookstores nationwide, and at Weatherliness.com), the truth is this: these weather changes occur because we continue to disrupt the Earth's naturally tranquil and weather-free temperament.

You see, when we are experiencing storms, droughts, snowfall, earthquakes, and nighttime, it's clear that the earth has weather changes, though many people continue to deny it."

Taika: "So, earthquakes and nighttime are also caused by Weather Change?"

Virga: "Yes! When the ground shakes and the sky grows dark, it's clear that something is wrong with our planet!"

Thisisa: "Ooo! Ooo! Ooo! Me! Pick me!"

Taika: "Would you like to respond, Mr. Thisisa?"

Thisisa: "Yes! I completely agree with Miss Virga. Something is very wrong with our planet! Mother Earth is upset because we walk all over her and dig pockmarks into her face and build huge towers on her smooth, supple skin. All we have to do is cheer her up and all this bad weather will go away."

Taika: "An interesting theory. And how might we cheer her up?"

Thisisa: "Chocolate! Women love chocolate!"

Virga: "Excuse me?"

Thisisa: "You know! Chicks like chocolate!"

Virga: "You sexist--"

Thisisa: "So if we give some chocolate to Mother Earth, she'll calm the heck down. That's why my foundation is currently working with government officials to pass a law requiring every nation to give her an offering of one metric ton of chocolate candies for every one million citizens, on January 5th each year."

Taika: "I've heard there is a lot of pushback from the other nations in opposition to that law."

Thisisa: "Yes, but they have to come onboard! If Mother Earth doesn't get her chocolate fix, she'll keep nagging and whining and the weather will only get worse!"

Virga: "You sexist pig! You really think chocolate will be enough to calm Mother Earth, simply because she's a woman?"

Thisisa: "Hey, chill out, toots!"

Virga: "You dare call me 'Toots'? You must die!!"

[she smacks him hard with her hand, hear the slap!]

Thisisa: "Hey, stop it, you cow!"

[she smacks him again, with a book this time]

Virga: "Shut up, pig!"

Taika: "Miss...Miss Virga..."

Thisisa: "That hurts, horse-face!"

Virga: "Good, worthless dog!"

[The fighting continues in the background as the show goes on]

Foliaj: May I speaketh upon this matter~~?"

Taika: "By all means, Mr. Foliaj."

Thisisa: "Elephant!"

Virga: "Rat!"

Foliaj: "I disagree-eth with this flawed assumption that the Earth is a female, for just as we-eth are genderless, so too-eth is the Earth. It is all explained-eth within mine book "People are Plants Too" (availableth now at NeverEatethnorDrinketh.com)."

Thisisa: "Manatee!"

Virga: "Weasel!"

Thisisa: "Buffalo!"

Virga: "Worm!"

Foliaj: "Usingeth this soil-filled flower pot, I shall demonstrateth as per the diagram on page 37-eth of my book."

Foliaj: "When we sticketh thine feet into the Earth's soil, remove our restrictive garments [he drops his robe, now in his boxer shorts] and stretcheth our branches to collect the sun's rich light-eth, we are as the plants of the Earth, genderless and gentle, not angering the Earth by taking-eth of animal-eth or plant-eth, but merely soaking up that which is given-eth to us. We needeth not food. We needeth not play, for in reality, we are not humans - we are plantmans."

Taika: "er... this may be out of line on my part, but since you're standing here in a flower pot in nothing but your underwear, I'll go ahead and say it. You look like you're literally starving to death Mr. Foliaj."

Foliaj: "This is merely the form of a mature plantman~~! One begins to resembleth the strong branches of a tree as one's body deepens its reconnection with the Earth~~!"

Taika: "Those aren't branches, they're bones! All of your bones are sticking out!"

Virga: [laughs] "What is wrong with you, plant guy?" [keeps laughing in the background]

Thisisa: "Yeah, you're a real freak, man!" [laughing] "And your fake accent is so stupid!"

Foliaj: "Quieteth thine tounge~! This accent makeseth me soundeth mystical... Waiteth a minute! As I am one with the Earth, it has spoken to me and I remebereth thou, sir~~!"

Thisisa: [still laughing] "Oh, do you?"

Foliaj: "Thou arteth in truthality Willa Wonky, owner of Choco-lotso, the world's largest producer of chocolateth candies~~!"

Taika: "Oh my gosh! He is!"

Virga: "Ah~~ The Chocolate King…? I'm a huge fan!"

Foliaj: [building up power around, almost as if he's gathering power to cast a very powerful spell, hear the sounds of wind rushing, vines sprouting, and so on, and it gets louder as he continues speaking] "Is that why you wanteth every nation to giveth chocolate to the Earth, when the Earth is the one who creates-eth chocolate in the first placeth~~? To linest thine grimy pockets with gains takeneth from Earth-honoring people~~?! YEE~~ FOWL~~ HYPOCRITE~~~" [the noise has reached its peak and the air is sparking with electricity]

(GASPS) (RELEASES A DEATH MOAN) [he has just died and is silent now. All the other noises die down as well]

Virga: [Screams at the top of her lungs]

Taika: "He...died! It looked like Mr. Foliaj was going to cast some sort of...plant-based magic spell, but he just bent over backwards and died! Someone call a doctor...or maybe an arborist would be better?"

Willa Wonky: "Phew! He almost killed me with those magic vine things. Must be my lucky day!"

Virga: "How can you be happy? Someone's dead!"

[Foliaj McGreenly's voice echoes throughout the room]: "Do not fretteth thou, for I can now finally returneth to the Earth..." [his last "to the earth"s fade out softly as a magical transformation sound is heard, which occurs because he is transforming into a small bony flower that has his face]

Willa Wonky: "What the heck is that ugly thing?"

Taika: "He turned into a bony flower."

Virga: "The part between the petals looks like his face. It's kinda cute."

Willa Wonky: "I don't think 'cute' is the word for it. Gross."

[The lights fade to black as the ending theme music fades in]

#comedy #funny story #fiction #fake interview #interview #short story

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vanchlo · 5 years ago

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The Assistant / Chapter Thirty One, “Timing”

Find all chapters to this story here!

Check out the character survey from Becky’s POV I did recently! :-)

Warnings: Very brief mention of IVs (needles)

Song Inspo: My My Love by Joshua Radin (Click to listen)

Sneaky Peeeeeeeeeky!

“A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape.

“I-It’s not a scar,” I say quickly, but at the same time, at a loss for words. He’s so close his breath smelling of chamomile tea passes by me within a second. And God, those pouty strawberry lips are so decadent, and tempting. “It’s a birthmark. I usually cover it up with makeup, that’s probably why you’ve never seen it.” Finished, I turn my head back to the telly, his finger dropping from the barely one inch mark.

“Wha’? Why d’ya do that? ‘s lovely.” As much as I try to drown my thoughts in the scene unraveling before my eyes, I can’t. Because his words, and the tingling under my eye consume my thoughts. The devil and angel inside my head bounce up and down in their seats.”

“No. W-what are you doing here?” I stutter, unable to control my words. Or my thoughts. Or my emotions.

At the drop of my words, Harry’s face falls. His eyebrows. The budding smile on his lips. And the brightness in his eyes. But he masks it quickly. And it escapes my mind when he crosses the distance between us. His black slacks, teal geometric-patterned button down, and curls are a blur in the seconds that follow. Suddenly, his arms are around me and pulling me into him. With sleep still clinging to my mind, and unsure of what to do, I freeze.

“Please don’t tell me you left work to drive 3 hours to come to Madley,” I confess quietly into the damp shoulder of his black peacoat. Shivering, his fingers run trails up and down my back.

“Shuddup, I ‘ave a case t’morrow nearby in Wolverhampton . . . Jus’ lemme do sumthin’ nice fer ya,” he says, his soft words drifting over the top of my head.

“I-I’m sorry. I just woke up and you caught me off guard,” I apologize meekly, feeling myself relax. My arms wind around his waist and lace themselves together over his coat.

“‘s okay,” he hums. His hands pause and I feel them brush my hair away. “I know ya hadda rough night- well couple o’ days,” Harry murmurs, his lips brushing against my hair. My lungs still and I wait, wondering if he’ll kiss my head. But it doesn’t come, and I try to will away the disappointment beginning inside of me. I’ve become so accustomed to it that it doesn’t want to leave this time. Then it’s joined by the happy disbelief appearing wet in my eyes.

“Couldn’ stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya, an’ figured I had t’ come up ‘ere t’morow mornin’ anyways. Wha’s an extra night hurt?” The first few words do it for me, and there I am spewing tears all over his shoulder. They’re not a waterfall, but the emotions growing inside of me feel that way. And they’re here, because he is.

He holds me tighter against him, and I feel his cheek rest on my head. Holding on tight to his coat, I let myself and everything I’m feeling melt against him. “You don’t know what it means to me that you’re here,” I confess in a trembling voice interrupted by sniffling.

“I think I do do, ‘coz you were there fer me tha day o’ tha funeral when I needed a friend. An’ at tha hospital. Ya showed up fer me, Becks, an’ I wanted t’ do tha same fer ya,” Harry reveals softly from above me. My lips bend into a happy smile amongst the tears that come harder at his words. “I brought dinna, ‘cuz I knew ya prolly hadn’t eaten. ‘s luck that I found ya atta vendin’ machine.”

His precious laugh greets my ears as his fingers tickle up my back. The bunches of fabric leave my hands, and I step away to search for those green eyes. After a few seconds, I find them staring down at me. They’re blurry behind the tears, but soon his smiling face sharpens.

“No mo’ tears, ‘kay? Le’s go eat some dinna an’ find sumthin’ good on tha telly,” Harry whispers, running the pad of his thumb along my cheeks. Nodding, his hand envelopes mine and we go to find a sitting area.

The halls are deserted besides a few nurses checking in on patients. Familiar medical-sounding beeps sound throughout the hallway. After guiding the way for Harry as I wipe my cheeks, we soon find our dining table. Or rather a sofa with a little table.

“I hope fish an’ chips ‘s alright,” he says, doubt filling his words.

“Of course they are. Did you get them from Maggie’s over on Fifth?”

“Yeah, I think so. Li’l shop with photos coverin’ tha walls?” he questions as he unpacks the brown paper bag.

“Yep, that’s the one. They make the best fish and chips I’ve had. And I would know, because I grew up eating these ones my entire life.”

“Well I guess ya would know then,” Harry relents, shrugging his shoulders with a toothy smile.

Whispered ‘thank yous’ float between us as we pass each other food and napkins. With two cups of water from the cooler a few steps away, we dig in.

“No kiddin’, these are good. ‘s always tha family owned shops that make tha best ones, innit?” Harry mumbles with a mouth full of food. I reply with an ‘mmmhmm’, trying not to laugh at the crumbs speckling his chin.

The crispy, buttery cod melts on my tongue. With my free hand, I grab hold of the gray remote sitting on the table beside me.

“Hey, ‘s my turn t’ pick what we watch,” Harry whines, stealing the remote from me.

“Rude!” I retort, but any words I had left to say collapse into laughter. Licking his thumb, he peeks over at me. A sly grin stuck to his lips.

Shaking my head, I look away and pick up a chip from the paper tray in my hand. When my eyes return to him, a ketchup-covered chip sits in his hand. Meanwhile, his face is screwed up in concentration at the telly. I smile, and then notice his reflection in the dark window on the other side of him. Kicking his foot with my right, he turns to the left to look at me in confusion.

“Just pick something!” I tell him, my palm turning up to help me talk. His dark curls dance atop his head as it goes from side to side.

“Oh hush, you. Cantcha letta man think?” he quips before feeding the chip past his cherry lips.

“No, not when it takes you an hour to pick what to watch,” I reply, yanking it from his hands.

“Heeeey! I was jus’ gonna pick that episode o’ Friends!”

“Wait, you like Friends?!” I nearly yell, my head snapping to look at him.

“O’course! Who doesn’t? I grew up watchin’ that show with me mum an’ sista,” he answers. With those words, my heart does a somersault in my chest. Oh my fuck, I’m falling again. “Wha’? Do ya not like it?”

“No, I-I love it. I grew up watching it, too. It’s like my comfort show - I watch it when I’m happy, sad, mad, excited- you name it,” I reply slowly, engrossed in gathering ketchup onto my chip. When I hear his murmured ‘me too’ from a mouth full of food, the devil and angel inside of me go crazy. For once, they seem to root for the same team.

“Favourite characta?” his words greet the air effortlessly. He licks the salt and grease from his thumb, and I suddenly regret looking up. The things you do to me, Styles.

“On the count of 3?” I ask, and his chestnut ringlets bounce with a nod.

“1 . . . 2 . . . 3.”

“Phoebe!” we both say in unison, sending us into fits of giggles.

“There’s nuthin’ betta than her on dat show. She’s hilarious, plays guitar, ‘s a surrogate fer her bloody brotha, an’ ‘s gorgeous,” Harry explains, and I’m following with every word. And with each one, I feel the butterflies in my tummy flutter again. For possibly the tenth time already tonight.

“All of the great jokes and catchphrases from the show are from her: Regina Phalange, Smelly Cat, Princess Consuela Banana Hammock, ‘I don’t even have a pla’, Gladys the framed doll, and that stupid taxi. She’s blunt and so funny, but she’s so sweet and would do anything for her friends,” I continue, watching him nod emphatically as he picks up another chip.

“Couldn’ ‘ave said it betta meself. Oh I love dis episode where they’re stuck at tha beach house. Poor Phoebs findin’ out tha truth ‘bout her mum dat way, tho’,” Harry comments, his mouth falling into a delighted and then sad O. My eyes follow his to the screen of the telly where our attention is held for the next twenty minutes.

My shoes only stop squeaking when I stop in front of the garbage bin. After tossing the greasy paper bag, I rub a pump of hand sanitizer into my hands. I wince at the awful sounds my shoes make as I try to walk quietly down the tiled hallway. The snoring greets my ears before I see him, but when I do, I smile. With careful steps, I pluck my backpack from the couch before leaving the room.

“He still sleepin’?” Harry asks, looking up from the Friends marathon from the telly. We scored!

“Yep,” I answer, plopping down onto the sofa beside him.

“Good,” he answers, slumping down further into the gray cushions. My backpack drops with a thud to the floor after I got what I needed. “What’re ya doin’? ‘s eleven-thirty, love. Tha’s no time t’ be doin’ homework.”

“I know, but I need to submit an assignment before I forget. It’s due at midnight,” I answer, seeing his nod out of the corner of my eye.

My laptop wakes with its usual jingle, and I watch my browser load. The audience laughter fills my ears at a humorous line from Chandler. Surprise, surprise. The maroon and navy blue colors of my uni’s website appear in front of me. Within a few moments, I’m on the web page for my course.

“Wha’s tha assignment?” Harry inquires, his eyes never leaving the telly. A laugh creases his cheeks, making me smile. But I’m not very sad I missed what’s so funny, because he makes up for it.

“Um, it’s an essay about Thomas Cromwell and his theories and stuff,” I reply, opening the page for assignments.

“Ah, I see they ‘aven’t changed coursework much from my day. Cromwell ‘s bloody obvious when ya start talkin’ ‘bout British law.”

“I know, it’s like the professor didn’t even try when drafting this assignment,” I comment with a small titter. Relief washes over me when I get a message saying my submission was successful. And something else too from being able to talk to him about law so easily. Something akin to how a hot chocolate makes you feel on a winter’s day.

I glance up and find Harry losing it with laughter. There’s a fleeting temptation to ask him to clue me in. But a laugh tingles on my lips when I find what he’s laughing at. Monica’s crying as she holds onto Chandler’s arm, an ocean scene in the background.

“Can’ believe Joey actually peed on Monica.” The words leave Harry’s mouth in between chuckles rather sloppily.

“He was just trying to help!” I comment, unable to stop laughing either.

“But it doesn’t even help! They say it makes it worse even,” he laughs, rubbing his forehead.

Shaking my head, my eyes fall to my laptop screen. After a few clicks, lines of text cloud my eyes. My eyes roll into the back of my head at their appearance. I find it nearly impossible to hold back a groan.

“What’re you gripin’ ‘bout ova here?” Harry questions with teasing in his tone.

“I have to read the entire case of Haughton v. Smith for a test, and it’s so confusing. I mean, working with you brushed me up on a lot of legal mumbo jumbo. But still, a lot of it doesn’t make sense to me,” I huff, my chin falling into the palm of my hand.

“Alright, lemme see what part yer at,” he says in a quiet voice. I try to ignore the regret budding inside of me at what I said about working at his firm. And how it makes me feel, and probably him, too. I don’t know why I ever bring it up, because sometimes it feels like when somebody else brings up the ex-boyfriend, or something. The sofa cushion dips as he closes the space between us. The angel and demon inside of me erupt into synonymous cheers when his arm goes around me.

“God, did you forget your glasses or something, Grandpa?” my question sputters from my lips in a cackle, watching him squint at the screen.

“Oh shuddup, an’ I mean it,” Harry quips, looking away for a moment. When I see the reason why, instead of a laugh consuming my thoughts, something else does. For some fucking reason, my heart warms at the sight of him unfolding a pair of mottled brown Pantos glasses. He tucks the brown case into the inside of his blazer, his peacoat on a chair. “Ya ya, laugh all ya want at me an’ me readin’ glasses.”

But when he looks down at me with them settled on his nose, I don’t laugh. “Why aren’t ya laughin’ anymo’, hmm?” he questions.

“I think they look really nice on you. They make you look handsome and sophisticated,” I tell him slowly, and it’s undeniable the pink that pinches his cheeks.

“Well ‘s ‘bout time fer dat t’ happen, only took me twenty-nine years,” he jokes, bringing a smile to my lips. My head goes from side to side as I close my eyes, my cheeks bunching from happiness painting my lips. Yeah, it’s about time for a lot of things right about now. “Alrigh’, lemme look what part yer at fer real now.”

I nod, trying to get comfortable on the sofa. Pitching my head back, I feel it bump into his arm. Nevermind my fucked neck, I return my eyes to the screen to try and forget that his arm is around me. But they immediately refuse and slowly trail to Harry, his face mere inches away from mine.

Okay, no, stop thinking about his lips and what they could do, I tell the demon inside of my head.

Becky, you could. You so know you could do it.

Shut up! He’s just helping me with my homework, that’s all this is.

Oh yeah? And when are you going to let yourself think about the real reason he’s here, huh?

I can’t do that right now.

Yes, you can! Maybe if you think about it, you’ll realize how good of an idea it would be to let yourself kiss him. I’m sure he’s thinking about it too.

Just stop!

His thumb and forefinger knead his bottom lip. It bunches together in little waves as his eyes flit across the screen. Whiskers the shade of his curls are scattered across his face. They’re dense atop his upper lip and around his chin. And God, I can’t stop thinking about them. Wanting to touch them. Feel them on my face- okay stop it, Becky.

“Well yer mostly at tha end, so wha’ doesn’t make sense t’ ya?” Harry finally says, turning his head ever so slightly to look at me.

“I know, but I feel like I don’t know what I just read. And the verdict is contradicting to me,” I answer with a shrug of my shoulders.

“Well maybe it’d make more sense t’ ya if ya weren’t lookin’ at it at almos’ midnigh’, love.”

“Yeah, well it’s kind of the only time I have lately with everything. I’m afraid to email my prof again saying I need an extension when it’s due tomorrow. I’ve needed a lot of them lately. I just wanna get it done,” I respond quietly, looking to the telly awkwardly. It’s always hard when the truth comes out, and the emotions that hang on to it.

A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my left eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape.

“Kids used to make fun of it when I was little. They’d call it a worm under my eye, because of its shape. It used to be more pronounced and bigger when I was little, but it’s still pretty noticeable,” I answer, adding in an eye roll that he laughs at.

“Aww, poor Becks. But if it counts, I don’ think it looks like a worm. ‘s cute on you,” he adds seriously, pinching my cheek. That makes me look over at him, and I already know that I’m blushing.

A small ‘thanks’ leaves my lips before my eyes dip to my laptop. Close to a minute of silence grows between us before he breaks it. “‘Kay, so Haughton vs. Smith found that ya can’t commit tha crime o’ handlin’ stolen goods, if tha goods they’re talkin’ ‘bout weren’t actually stolen. ‘s an important case t’ know, cuz it was ‘ventually ovaturned by tha Criminal Attempts Act o’ ‘81. Ya’ll neva be able t’ forget tha connection between tha two, issa given. Ya don’ need t’ worry ‘bout that law now tho’, they basically mean tha same thing.”

“Thanks for explaining it, I hope it’s enough to help me pass the test on it,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest stubbornly.

“Open tha test, an’ ‘ll help ya with it.”

The second my eyes land on Joey’s body covered in sand on the telly, they whip back to Harry. “Really, you’d help me?”

“‘Course I would. Tha’s what ‘m here fer. An’ it wouldn’t hurt t’ see if I still got it.”

“You’ve been a lawyer for years, and this is pre-law, so of course you do. And not to mention, ranked as one of the best in London,” I reply smiling, clicking open a new tab. I suspect how my words will make him feel, because they fill me with the same emotions. Pride. Happiness. Astonishment. And more pride.

“Well, I do me best,” Harry titters proudly. A cocky hum leaves his lips as he brushes off his chest. A laugh sputters from my lips that I can’t contain. “Heeeey, don’ be laughin’ at me.”

“Sorry, I just can’t control myself when you start dropping dad jokes,” I respond nonchalantly, clicking on the tab labeled ‘Assessments.’

“Just pull tha bloody test up an’ le’s get it ova with,” he huffs, amusement still lacing through his words.

“Awww, is it past your bedtime already?” I pout, turning my eyes to him. His lips smush together and I hear the smallest of squeaks get past them. “You know you like my grandpa jokes, don’t lie.”

“Shuddup, li’l one, an’ open tha goddamn test already,” he huffs. If anybody else heard him, they’d think he was mad at me. But even as my eyes cast over the column of tests from this course, I know different. I can hear it in his voice - the joking, the molasses, the affectionate teasing, and the friendship.

Wow, nice choice of words there, Ms. Denial.

Shut up, devil.

“I am not little!” I retort in a high voice, making my two tabs appear as two windows on my screen. Side by side. Cheating time!

“Becks, yer like 5’5, if that.”

“No, I’m not! I’m 5’6, you liar!”

“Ya, cuz that one lousy inch really does a whole lot, doesn’t it?” Harry counters, his voice melting into a goofy one. I respond to it with a hearty laugh that is soon accompanied by his. “Yer still a li’l one t’ me, love.”

“Fine, Grandpa Harry.”

The annoying sound of a laugh track pricks at my ears. Blinking hard, the room around me is blurry. But after a groggy minute of blinking, it begins to sharpen. I don’t remember the lights getting turned off, but the telly screen burns my eyes. Rubbing them, I moan from tiredness. Dropping my arm, I feel it hit something. Looking down, I’m confused. When I lift my head from whatever it was resting on, I find what I was laying on. And well, what was also laying on me. Still is. Her face scrunches adorably before relaxing, nuzzling her head against my shoulder once more.

Becks.

After combing my hair off of my forehead, the lock screen of my phone wakes me up a little more. Especially when I see that it reads 1:18 am. Fuck, I need to get to my hotel and go to bed. I have my case tomorrow. But when I hear a noise and find the culprit, all of those thoughts wash away. An incoherent sound runs off of her lips, ones that are so close to me. Fuck, again. But when my eyes scan the rest of my body, I realize that she’s all over me. Well, almost. Her right hand rests on my chest as she leans against the back of the sofa. But her pretty little head of dark hair is laying on my shoulder. My arm is around her, holding her close to me. I can feel her other arm tickling my side.

Memories float to the surface, and suddenly I’m back at the hospital in London. In December. A phone call woke me from my slumber beside her on the sofa. The both of us curled up on opposite sides. Sleep clinging to my eyes and begging to me to return to it. Her shoulders rising with every soft snore, but it was the most daintiest one I’d ever heard. It felt like my heart was being squeezed tighter with every move I made to leave her. When I draped the second blanket over her. And how much it hurt to move the hair off of her face. To press a kiss to her unknowing head. But nothing compared to the anguish I felt grow with every step I put between us.

Blinking hard, the dark room materializes around me again. Her precious snores welcome my return to the moment. A smile brings my lips upwards as I watch a crease grow between her eyebrows. She’s too goddamn adorable. And that’s why I came, isn’t it? Because no matter how hard I try, I can’t resist her. I can’t say no to Becky. When she called me crying and a mess worrying about her dad, I didn’t know what I was doing until I was putting the town of Madley into my GPS. I guess The Beatles were right with that one song, and plenty of others. She’s really got a hold on me. And before I could begin to stop myself, her skin is like velvet under my thumb. I rub the crease away with the pad of it, and suddenly my head dips. My lips barely brush her hair when she groans below me.

��Harry?” she murmurs, lifting her head from my shoulder.

“Hi, sleepyhead.”

She yawns, moving away to look around sleepily. But soon she returns back to my arms, cozying up to me once more. And I couldn’t be more thankful, or conflicted. The latter word drills into my mind as I rub a hand down her back, sleep trying to coax me back in, too.

“We fell asleep,” she mumbles, her honey voice coated in that very word. Fuck, does it make me feel things. Things that I’d much rather not.

“Yeah, ‘s one in tha mornin’.”

“Shitttt,” she sighs, sitting up fast. Her growing locks pour over her shoulders covered by a crewneck jumper. Faded pictures of balls from different sports are scattered across the heather gray fabric. Like something my dad wore when I was a tot. “You have your case tomorrow.”

“‘m fine, I already dropped me stuff off at tha hotel an’ got me key,” I tell her, missing the warmth of her against me. And I miss the fact in those words alone of what I’m missing. Her in my arms. “But ya should prolly get sum sleep, too. Seems like ya’ve been missin’ it lately.”

“I’m okay, just lots of homework,” Becky says, running her long fingers through her wavy hair.

“‘d offa me hotel room, but ‘s half an hour ‘way in Wolverhampton. An’ there’s only tha one bed,” I tell her, unsure of why. I blame it on the sleepy brain.

“Thanks, but I’m okay. I’ll just sleep on the couch in his room. It’s not too bad once you get used to it,” she assures me. Her arms crack as she stretches them toward the ceiling. I can’t help myself when the baggy jumper rides up, exposing the slightest of her milky white tummy. Fuck. But just like that, it’s gone in a flash. If only my feelings worked that way.

It’s like she has some sixth sense that I’m thinking about her, because her eyes cast over to me. It’s hard to make out their ocean blue in this dark, but I know they’re there. I can picture them if I need to, because I do it all the time - trying to make myself remember what they look like. The exact shade. The speckles of darker blue amongst the color.

“Yer welcome,” I return. The tired smile I get in return melts my insides like butter. But that’s how I feel when I’m around her, and that’s how much of a hold she’s got on me.

Shocks of electricity dance across the back of my hand. I don’t need to look down to know her hand is on top of mine. And how it’s making me go crazy. She’s only a few inches away. I could do it. Before I stop myself, I begin to lean in, and she watches me do it. But with only a few seconds left, we jump apart at the sound of a ringtone.

Embarrassment covers me like a dark cloud, among other nasty emotions. My head falls, hiding the heat rising to my cheeks. Pulling out my phone to distract myself, it doesn’t do that great of a job as I hear her talk to somebody on the phone. Dammit, I was so close. With a hand in my hair, I scroll through emails. Deleting some and saving others.

“Sorry, that was Robbie. Just checking in, since I forgot to update him, I guess,” Becky tells me, lifting my head with her voice.

My head only goes up and down, avoiding eye contact. Because I can’t muster it after what just happened, or what didn’t.

“‘s late, ya should get sum rest,” I announce, getting to my feet. Picking up my coat, I slip it on before I dare to look at her.

She smiles shyly at me, sleep hanging around her eyes. Even rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her jumper is precious. And her legs jittering in her faded blue jeans. Vans the shade of her favorite color donning her feet.

“Yeah, you too,” is all she has to say.

Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. For a mere second, I entertain the thought of trying again. But fuck it, she’s so far away right now, figuratively and literally. I can catch a hint of her scent sticking to me, and it makes me sad to realize.

“Go get sum sleep, ‘kay?” Are the only words I can think of as I walk up to her and pat her arm.

“Yeah, you too, Harry. Careful driving.”

“Thanks, Becks, I will. Sweet dreams, love,” I mutter, looking at her over my shoulder.

And I keep walking, and leave her behind. Regrets coursing through my ears, and emotions tugging at my seams. The tiredness coating my every thought and action, only make it all the worse. I’m not sure if I want to wake up more for the car drive to the hotel, because then it will all feel even more real. And discouraging.

“Harry?” stopping in my tracks, I hear her call my name. Spinning around, I feel her before I see her. Her arms surround around my waist and her head comes to lay against my chest. All within seconds. “Thank you . . . for coming.”

A pain sounds in my chest when I hear the emotion in her voice. And it takes all of me to not echo it, because I know I could. And that I would. Instead I say, “Yer welcome, Becks,” and I do at least one thing I wanted to do tonight. Dipping my head, I smooth down her hair and press my lips to her hair for more than a few seconds.

The sweet smell of orange blossom greets me, and my smile is havoced by pain. Her warm breaths tickle the skin at my neck as my hands lace together at the small of her back. Her arms squeeze me around the middle before releasing, and she lets go of me. I think about trying again, but the thought is fleeting when she begins to walk away from me.

And I let her do it. Once again.

The burbling of the running water fills my ears. Well, besides the sound of the football match. Surprise, surprise. And the next sound. His cheering. It makes me smile as I wipe my hands with a paper towel.

“What’s the score now?” I ask, walking back into the room. His eyes don’t go to me at the question, instead they remain on the screen.

“Six-two. It doesn’t look too good for ‘em,” my dad replies snarkily, a devilish glint in his eyes. But it’s there, and that’s all that matters. It’s what makes the smile stick to my face.

“Don’t let your food get cold,” I say, bending over to dig into my backpack.

“I’m done eating. You can have the rest, Ree,” he replies just as I feel the smooth handle I’m searching for.

“I’m okay, thanks. I was probably going to check out the special in the cafe.”

“Oh so only I have to eat the hospital food?” my dad whines, pouting at me when I look at him.

With a laugh, I remark, “I’m eating their food in the cafe too, you dork.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry, chemo brain,” he replies, tapping a finger against his head. A striped green hat keeping it warm. His arm returns to the white blanket pulled up to his waist. Light shines in his eyes and his arms lift into the air when they make yet another goal.

Whoops and hollers leave his chapped lips. But this morning, they’re pinker. And so is his skin. If only in the slightest, I notice them. Running the brush through my knotted hair, I yawn as I watch him. A patterned hospital gown covers his upper half, with the sleeves just coming to above the IVs in his left arm. Fluids and meds. The antibiotics. Yippee.

But the thoughts are mulled over when I look to his plate sitting on the moveable tray beside him. It was scrambled eggs, toast, applesauce, and milk this morning. And he ate nearly half of it, even if it took about half an hour. But I want to blame part of that on the football match his eyes are stuck to.

“I’m going to see if I can find your doctor. I had a question,” I tell him, dropping my hairbrush back into my backpack.

“Ree, don’t worry about it. He’ll come by later,” my dad insists, but I stand from my chair regardless of his answer.

“It’s fine. I need to stretch my legs anyways.”

He hums a reply I can’t decode, but I hear his teasing about blocking the telly when I walk by. Over my shoulder, he flashes me a small smile before returning to yelling lazily at the referees. Nurses and doctors pass me, going to and from rooms to the nearby nurse’s station. Tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear, I search for the shock of white hair of my dad’s doctor.

But no such luck.

As I approach the nurse’s station, sounds of beeping, call lights, and murmuring voices fill the air. But another sound stands out from the rest. And I hear my name, or well my last name. It takes me a second to locate where it’s coming from, but when I do there’s a flutter in my chest. And I know I’m in trouble, or maybe that I’m just realizing it now after all of this time.

But I don’t save him right away, and instead I observe. Confusion sews his eyebrows together over those misty green eyes. One lone curl tickles his forehead, breaking free from his damp hair. His black peacoat is draped over his arm clad in a warm violet blazer. A dusty rose button down peeks out from its collar, and I smile. I don’t even know why. But as the seconds tick by watching him talk to the nurse, I think I know why.

“Looking for me, Styles?” I pipe up, stepping forward with my hands hidden away in my hoodie.

Harry’s eyes fall from the nurse and pan over to me. A lazy smile works its way onto his face quickly, only interrupted to thank the nurse.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, turning to walk towards me.

“What are you doing here? You have your case today, you said,” I respond, playing with the sleeve of my black hoodie. The cracked decal of Robbie’s old band covers the front.

“Came t’ bring ya out t’ brekky. Me case doesn’t start ‘til tha aftanoon, bug,” he responds with half of a smile, pinching my arm affectionately. And there’s that nickname, again, I think as my insides turn to mush. “Well jus’ down t’ tha cafe if tha’s alright. I saw sumthin’ ‘bout biscuits ‘n gravy, an’ sumthin’ smelled mighty delicious when I came in.”

“That sounds great,” I say, a smile inching its way up my lips. The wet ends of my hair knock against each other, and my chin. “I’ll just let my dad know,” I tell him, turning around to walk away.

But after only a few steps, a sudden thought brings me to halt. It wills my feet to turn around and look at Harry. “Would you like to meet him?” I ask tentatively in a meek voice. “He’s doing a little better this morning, but I think that’s thanks to the Arsenal match on the telly.”

With what appears to be a shaky smile, he replies, “‘d love t’. Hope ‘s not me Manchester United boys playin’ ‘gainst ‘em.”

Waving a hand towards me, he closes the distance between us. His leather boots squeak from the last bits of melting April snow. It’s only a few moments before I peek my head into his room, and low and behold, he’s still transfixed by the match.

Rapping my knuckle against the door, I get his attention before saying, “Hey, can I steal you away from your precious game for a few? There’s a friend of mine I’d like you to meet.”

“Yeah, sure,” he responds, adjusting his blankets before the telly’s volume falls. Over my shoulder, I shoot Harry an encouraging smile. He returns it, but I can see the nerves showing through.

Pushing open the door fully, I walk in and he follows from behind.

“Dad, this is Harry Styles. My uh, former boss I’ve told you about,” I fumble for words, giving a magician-like wave to him. Well, the right words. “He stopped by last night and brought me dinner. He has a case today in Wolverhampton, and we’re going to get breakfast downstairs before.”

A weary smile curls at the corners of my dad’s lips. Nodding, his dusty pink lips part, “Ah, so this is the fella you were with until all hours last night,” he jests, pulling nervous laughter into the air. “Yes, it’s about time we met. I’ve heard a lot about you, son. Thanks for everything you’ve done for Becky, and for your well wishes. It’s meant a whole damn lot to me, and I know for her too.”

Okay, dad, let’s not board the emotional bus yet. Or maybe, ever.

Happy laughs float around the room as Harry steps forward, rubbing hand sanitizer into his hands. “‘s a pleasure t’ meet ya as well, sir,” he rasps, reaching out to shake my dad’s hand firmly.

“Call me Chuck, Harry. I’m not that old yet, although sometimes it feels that way,” my dad jokes, widening the smiles on all of our faces.

“Yes, ‘course, Chuck. I’ve also heard loads ‘bout ya, all good things, so no worries. Ya’ve been in me prayers an’ thoughts ova tha last 7 months. Sure raised a great daughter, ya should know.”

A permanent smile warms my cheeks as I shyly look over to Harry. He meets my eyes and smiles back at me. Winking, he shove his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Thank you, son. That’s mighty good to hear, although I’m not too sure about that son of mine sometimes,” he laughs, soon getting a scoff from me.

“Oh I mean Robbie, too. I’ve only met tha bloke once or twice, but I was impressed. Certainly since I was surprised t’ find out Becky hadda twin,” Harry comments, his eyes burning a hole into my cheek.

“Yes, I think I’ve heard that story. Their mother and I were pretty surprised to find there was two, also,” he chuckles. “But Ree likes to do that sometimes.”

Shaking my head, I look away and to the Spring sunshine. It seeps in through the cracks in between the window shades. Their soft laughs fill my ears before Harry’s voice does again.

“Yeah she’s a spitfire, alright,” he comments, and finally I meet his smirking eyes before they return to my dad. “But ‘m glad t’ hear yer doin’ a bit betta. Hopefully they can get a good handle on dis soon, an’ you lot can go home.”

“Thank you. We hope so too,” my dad nods, running his thumb along the buttons of the tv remote. “I truly appreciate you taking the time to be here with Becky . . I know it means more than words to her.”

Looking away to the floor, his words find the chink in my armor. I feel the lump rise in my throat along with memories of last night. Luckily, the tears stay away and I get away with it.

“‘Course, ‘m glad I was able t’ come an’ be with her. Dunno if she told ya, but she was there fer me when my grandad was in tha hospital befo’ he passed. An’ well, I know how much it means t’ ‘ave sumbody there,” Harry murmurs, almost giving a reason for the tears to make an appearance. But they don’t, and I’m repeating ‘thank yous’ inside of my head.

“I’m pretty proud of my little Rebecca Ann, and it only grows more every day,” my dad comments, flitting his eyes over to me. His words make my cheeks tingle with a new blush and because I know another pair are on me, too.

“Yeah, she makes it ratha easy,” Harry agrees softly, pulling my attention to him. The gentlest smile sits atop his lips, and a sad sweetness twinkles in his eyes.

“Well, we’ll let you get back to your match. We’re going to grab breakfast before everybody else gets the same idea,” I pipe in, unsure of when and how to sever the moment. But the look in Harry’s eyes does something to me, and I don’t know what to do with it.

We exchange short goodbyes before I’m following Harry out of the room. The rising volume of the football announcers voices send us on our way.

“Rebecca Ann, huh?” Harry smiles beside me, the nurse’s station in our rearview mirrors.

“Go ahead and make jokes about it. It doesn’t even sound like my name, I don’t know. I’ve only ever went by that for forms, when I got in trouble, or like on the first day of school and graduation. And the Ann is just my middle name, I don’t have a two parter,” I explain hurriedly, surprising myself when I don’t hear one of his delightful giggles. Tearing my eyes away from the poster at the end of the hallway, I look to him. And he isn’t laughing, which confuses me.

“There’s no jokes t’ be had. I think ‘s pretty, yer name. Figured ya were a Rebecca, but wasn’t sure. Nor did I know yer middle was Ann. Tha’s my mum’s name, ‘ve always loved it,” he tells me, coming to a stop in front of the gunmetal colored doors of the lift. The sickeningly sweet look on his face sends the butterflies in my tummy to flight. Again.

“Oh thanks,” I almost blurt, pressing the button to go down. But then as we step into the welcoming lift, more come to me. “It was my grandmother’s name. It always made me feel closer to her, like I always had a piece of her with me.”

“Tha’s nice. ‘ve always liked it when parents carry on family names like dat. It makes me think ‘d like t’ do tha same with me own kids one day,” Harry continues as I watch the doors shut, cutting us off from the rest of the world. If only for a few minutes. But still.

“Me too.”

“So nobody ever calls ya Becca?” Harry inquires, catching my attention.

“Eh, not really. Maybe Skye sometimes, and my grandma Ann did, but not much anymore.”

“Hmm maybe ‘ll hafta use it then,” he quips, but then he wears a confused smile he pulled out of thin air. “Eh I dunno, actually. Ya’ll always be me Becks,” he finishes, making my heart do a dance. And fueling the angel and demon having a party inside of my head.

“Yeah, I agree. Anything else would sound weird.”

“Ya look like ‘im, ya know. Tha eyes, tha hair, and tha shape o’ yer face - bloody spitting image ya are. ‘Specially Robbie,” Harry acknowledges.

“We get that a lot, but thanks, I like to hear it. Sometimes I can’t see it, though,” I recall. “Which parent do you look like?”

“Um, dunno. I get comments ‘bout lookin’ like both o’ me parents. I guess I mostly ‘ave people say I look like me dad with sum o’ my mum’s features. Which sounds wild.”

“Yeah, I can relate with people saying I look like my dad. It’s like, oh thanks for saying I look like a boy,” I laugh. Turning to look at him on my left, a small one sputters from his smiling cherry lips.

“I know, ‘s weird.”

“I can see it, though. How people think you look like him,” I tell him. When I watch his lips settle into a silent, straight line, I feel instant regret. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, ‘s okay. Jus’ hard hearin’ people say ya look like sumbody ya don’ like.”

A small ‘oh’ passes over my lips before I can stop it. My eyes leave him and go to the changing red number above my head. Words bubble up inside of me, and I tell them to stop. But then I can’t.

“I think I know how you feel,” I murmur, daring to look over at him, her face flashing in my mind. His far away eyes lift from the floor and pan over to me.

I try not to lose myself in their infinity of green, but it’s worthless. And soon I am, and thoughts of last night leak from my memories.

I know it’s at the back of his mind too. That almost kiss. The one he tried to initiate, and the one I want so bad. Five months ago, I don’t know if I would’ve. But now in this moment and in this elevator, all alone with him, I couldn’t want something more.

Or somebody.

22 notes · View notes

padfootagain · 5 years ago

Text

The Suit

Here we go with a new cute little thing!! It is the last one-shot for my celebration, for the next two days, I will be updating two series you have voted for. I do hope I have managed throughout these 5 fics to bring a little bit of fluff and softness into your week. In case I had not succeeded so far, maybe this one will do the trick ;)

I have 0 respect for Canon in many fandoms (okay, all fandoms, to some extent) but especially when it comes to the MCU. Everybody lives, everybody is happy, the Avengers live together and the sky is full of rainbows! So… cute things ahead for Steve Rogers :)

I hope you like this, tell me what you thought about it!

Gif not mine (enjoy the eyelashes… argh, why is he like this?)

Word Count : 3941

When people picture the interior of the Avengers headquarters, they imagine some kind of large hangar filled with training rooms. Advanced weaponry on display in some of these rooms too, target practice, and large spaces where the Avengers can train and learn new fighting moves. Some might also imagine the Avengers' personal quarters, a kitchen, a large living room where all can gather and eat some Chinese food, maybe a room where they all can watch a good movie together too, a large bedroom for each of them and offices too were they can work on the intel sent to them.

And to this entire description, although one would gather a vague image instead of a real glimpse at the inside of the most secret building in the world (or at least one of the most secret buildings, for sure, although we must all admit that many labs in Wakanda are even more wrapped in shadows), this person listing the inside of this fortress would be right. At one major detail… or well, three, actually.

This enlightened person would have forgotten the library, for one, large and composed of an eclectic collection of novels, thesis about nuclear physics and comic books, was right between the movie room as the Avengers called it, and the offices.

Also, there is a miniature hospital in the base of the Avengers. They call it the infirmary, but it contains everything needed to heal any kind of wound they could sustain on the battle-field, and some of the most recent pieces of equipment would make even Dr Strange blush out of envy.

But the most important set of rooms that one would have forgotten are the labs. Scattered throughout the buildings, and yet vital for the heroes. Who makes the suits? The weapons? Who collects the intel? Who improves their defensive accessories? Who analyses the clues the Avengers find throughout their missions?

Obviously, the busy team of researchers and engineers working at the base.

And while you could hear the characteristic detonations of Natasha, Bucky, Sam and Clint training at firing, you were yourself stuck with a very hard problem to solve.

On your desk, what was left of Captain America's suit laid splayed so you could examine the damages the explosion had caused. He was okay, thanks to luck, his super-soldier organism and a little bit of patching up. A week after he was back from his mission, he was apparently completely healed already.

His suit, however, was still just as damaged as it was at its return from the field.

You heaved a sigh, rubbing your tired eyes. If one had told you, back at University, that your PhD in chemistry would be put to use to help a bunch of super-heroes, you would have laughed at their faces. And yet…

You heard a knock on the door of your office, but you didn't need to look up to know it was Peter Parker. You had recognized the knock already.

"Hi, Dr. Y/L/N!" He beams at you as he steps into your office and closes the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes at the teenager.

"How many times do I have to tell you? You can call me Y/N. I’m not that old! Besides, everyone does."

"Captain Rogers doesn’t."

"Yeah, but that’s because he’s old fashioned on a few things."

Peter grinned.

"You know, Natasha has another theory, and it’s a very different one."

"And what could that theory be?"

"Better let her explain it to you," he eluded the question. "What’s that?" he added, nodding at the pile of burnt and torn fabric on your desk that really didn’t look much like a uniform anymore.

"It’s Captain Rogers’s suit. I’m supposed to make an improved one for him."

"Cool! Your suits are always comfortable and efficient. Do you have any ideas yet?"

"None whatsoever."

"I guess he won’t need a new suit before the party. I hope nothing calls for it, at least. So you have a couple of weeks."

"What party?"

"There’s a big party in a couple of weeks. Everyone working here will be invited, I guess Pepper simply hasn’t sent the invitations yet. You’re gonna come, right? That would be awesome!"

"Well… if we’re all invited, then I guess…"

"Nice!"

You exchanged a smile. Something told Peter, and not his Peter tingles, another sense, a sense that was growing sharper and sharper ever since he and MJ were together, that Steve Rogers would be happy to learn that you would attend the party…

"But I doubt that you were coming here to talk about suits and parties, now, were you?"

His smile was back on his face.

"I have a new idea for my web fluid. But I need your expertise. Can you help?"

You let out a chuckle as you stood up and walked towards the door with a pen and your notebook.

"Of course. Come on, tell me all about it."

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

After a few sleepless nights for you and your team, the new suit was finally ready. The tests showed a major improvement in terms of heat responses, you hoped it would protect Captain Rogers efficiently for his next mission.

The advantage of being the head of a scientific team in the Avengers HQ was that you could go to their part of the buildings and give them their new suits, weapons and other gadgets yourself. You had grown quite fond of most of the team along the years too, which made the trip out of your lab particularly enjoyable.

You wandered off from room to room, passing before the fighters training in various methods of combat. You also came across Tony and Peter watching Morgan’s favourite Disney movie with her, and you asked them about the Captain's whereabouts.

"I think he went to the gym with Sam and Bucky," Peter answered, his voice distorted by the handful of popcorn he had shoved in his mouth.

"Because obviously gym is useful to him," Tony added in his usual teasing and yet casual tone over the loud music of Be A Man. "I’ve always thought he was short in muscles."

Meanwhile, Morgan was shouting the lyrics and was now standing on the sofa, mimicking the fighting moves of Mulan.

"BE A MAN!"

"What are you looking for him for, anyway?" Tony went on over the loud singing of his daughter. "You need a coach for the gym?"

You laughed in response.

"No, we’ve finished a new suit for him, so I’m bringing it to him."

"YOU MUST BE SWIFT AS A COURSING RIVER!"

"You guys even do the delivery part for free? Amazon might have reasons to worry."

Peter had now joined the little girl for the rest of the chorus, and he and Morgan were both singing at the top of their lungs.

"WITH ALL THE FORCE OF A GREAT TYPHOON!!"

"Well as I said, he’s at the gym," Tony went on, still focusing on you instead of the two kids by his side. "Lifting heavy things and stuff. He’ll be happy to see you."

"What do you mean?" you asked back with a frown.

"WITH ALL THE STRENGTH OF A RAGING FIRE."

Tony merely chuckled and gave you a knowing look. Although you didn’t know what the knowing in the look was about, you oblivious little thing…

"He’s always happy to see you, Y/N."

"MYSTERIOUS AS THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOOOOOOON!!!"

Tony’s gaze finally drifted back towards the two kids on the sofa, a tender smile soothing his features.

"I think she has a chance to become a superstar," he told you, pointing at Morgan. "That’s pure talent we have here. It’s not the same for the other guy over there of course, but everyone can’t be gifted."

"Hey! I don’t sing that badly!" Peter protested from his end of the couch, making both you and Tony laugh.

You thanked Tony for his help, and he waved at you in response, along with giving you a wink that seemed to carry a silent message, but you failed to understand it. Instead, you continued your journey through the HQ (but not without Morgan giving you some popcorn in support for your noble quest first, of course), and walked to the gym with a light trot and humming the tune of Mulan’s songs.

Indeed, you found Steve right where Tony had told you he would be. At the gym. Sam and Bucky were there too, but the three friends seemed on their way out. Sam and Bucky were talking (or well, bickering was a better word to describe any of their interactions, really) near the door while Steve was picking up his stuff…

… and for some reason he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Or a T-shirt. Or any piece of fabric whatsoever that would cover his torso, the skin glistening slightly with a thin layer of sweat.

No matter how uncomfortable you felt, you couldn’t help but stare.

The three of them turned to you as the door loudly closed behind you, and you all remained motionless for a moment. And for a short moment, time seemed to stop as the four of you each reacted differently to the scene unfolding around you.

You were standing, frozen, in front of the door, your package still safely in your arms as your lips parted without you noticing, and you wondered about the ratio between his biceps and your thighs…

Bucky and Sam were motionless as well, simply because they were trying not to laugh as they watched the silent scene playing between you and Steve.

Steve was still, stopped mid-movement, holding his towel in one hand and a bag in the other. And his mind was currently wondering how it would feel to touch your cheek…

He was the first to shake himself out of his thoughts, and you were rather grateful for it, as you reckoned that you wouldn’t have been able to break free on your own.

“Dr. Y/L/N. What can we do for you?”

You forced your brain to work again and your stare to leave his torso to rest on his intense blue eyes instead. How could he have such long eyelashes?

"Actually, I… hmm… I’m the one who can do something for you. I’ve finished your suit," you added, handing him the suit although you were unable to cross the room to give him the package. You didn’t trust your legs enough, they felt like they were made of soft cotton instead of bones and muscles.

"Oh, thank you," he gave you a bright smile, throwing his towel on his large shoulder and striding to you.

You reckoned that it was rather rare to see a genuine, bright smile on his features. Little smiles, yes. But large ones? Not so much. You guessed that he was very happy to get a new suit. Or perhaps the source for such happiness blooming in him was the person who brought the suit… but you didn't know that, by then.

He took the suit wrapped in kraft paper, his smile still on his lips. You noticed how flushed he was, you guessed it was because of the gym session he had just finished. You couldn’t know that your assumption was only partly true. There was another reason for him to blush up to the tip of his ears. That reason was standing right before him.

"Are you coming tomorrow night? At the big party?" he softly asked.

"Yes, I am. All the lab was invited, and most of us are coming."

"Have you found your plus one yet?" Sam jumped in the conversation.

"Oh, no. I’m coming alone. I mean, it’s not like I need support, I’m going to see my friends there so… no need to pretend."

Sam gave Steve a pointy look. Which his friend ignored.

"Are you bringing someone?" you inquired in a friendly tone.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. He doesn’t though," he added, nodding towards Steve.

You turned to Steve again. He tightened his grip on the suit, and shrugged, a shy smile on his lips.

"As you said, no need to pretend tomorrow."

You stared at each other for a couple of seconds, that seemed to stretch into minutes. And the more you looked at him, the more you wanted to tell him how you felt, how you hoped to see him the next evening, how wonderful you thought he was and… Gosh, he had gorgeous eyes…

But you couldn't do that.

"Well, I’ll see you all tomorrow then. Have a nice day," you hurried the words out of your mouth so you could stride out of the room before your reason would yield in favour of your heart, and you would spoil everything.

The second the door had closed behind you, Sam was chuckling.

"You know, it ain't that hard to ask her out. You had the perfect opportunity. You just had to ask ‘Y/N, would you like to come with me to the party tomorrow’."

"Sam…" Steve heaved a heavy sigh.

"He’s too romantic for that. He’ll make a move tomorrow night. In the moonlight and all," Bucky mocked, making Steve roll his eyes.

"I hate both of you."

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

The large room was filled with a crowd. Low lights kept an intimate atmosphere throughout the floor. At the top of the Stark Tower, the view on New York City was stunning, an intricated labyrinth of shining lights matching the paler ones hung on the sky. You felt a little tipsy after drinking a couple of tequila shots with Natasha and Wanda. You reckoned that you needed some air, and stepped outside the busy room decorated with perfect taste. The music was still loud coming through the windowpanes as you walked on the large balcony. You hadn't seen Steve yet, but reckoned it was for the best. People had dressed up for the occasion, and you did not plan on dying of a heart attack because of the sight of him in a tuxedo.

The fresh air cleared your thoughts a little and you took a deep intake of breath. You leaned against the bannister, shivering a little as the breeze brushed your naked arms. You took in the view, the sparkling lights shimmering against the darkness of the night, the busy streets and wandering forms drifting back and forth into the maze spreading below your feet.

"Hey! Y/N! Bring your arse back inside, Thor and Nat are trying to see who holds their liquor best!" you heard one of your colleagues call for you, but you shook your head with a chuckle.

"We all know Nat will win."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

You spun on your heels as you recognized Steve's voice. He was standing there, a few steps away from you, his silhouette wrapped in the lights coming out of the busy room giving him a surreal halo, a hand in the pocket of his trousers and a shy smile on his perfectly shaven face. And yes, he was wearing a classic tuxedo. And God, did the man know how to wear a bowtie…

"After all, he is an alien," he went on.

Your colleague had disappeared, you guessed she had judged wiser to leave the two of you alone on the balcony.

How could there be only the two of you out there anyway? Where were people gone to?

"Yes, but she knows too many tricks to lose this kind of bet," you argue.

He let out a chuckle, his eyes flickering to the tip of his black shoes and back up to your gaze, capturing it for good.

"I guess you're right. It's always unwise to underestimate her."

"Exactly."

"Aren't you cold out here?"

"No, I… I needed a little bit of fresh air."

"These parties can be a little too intense," he nodded.

"So can be the tequila."

You both laughed, and fell in a comfortable silence. Steve was too busy staring at you to think of anything else, let alone about words to say.

He hadn't felt that way in what seemed to be an eternity. The nervous tremor through his body, the stumbling of his heart, the freezing of his thoughts… he knew the symptoms and had no doubt about the disease causing them.

Love was an easy thing to spot when it was true, after all.

But if his feelings for you were clear to him, he didn't know about your feelings for him, that was a completely different story. Everyone kept on telling him that you liked him, and he reckoned that he should trust his friends' judgment. The doubt was still there though, a little frozen cube buried in the depth of his heart that burnt through now and then. And it was burning now.

Because as he stared at you, such an accomplished, clever, independent, strong, fierce, graceful woman, he wondered if you could really feel the same way he did.

He had been feeling this way for you for so long though… years, really. And he reckoned now that it was more than time to speak his mind. In the worst case, he would get his heart broken. But in the best case…

"Are you enjoying your evening so far? Would you like something to drink?"

You gave him an amused smile. He seemed nervous…

… maybe your friends were right about him after all.

"I am enjoying my evening so far," you answered. "And no, thank you. I already feel tipsy enough for tonight."

He walked to join you against the bannister, a dreamy smile on both of your faces.

Inside, the music had changed from some energetic pop to a slower and intimate tune. It seemed that time had slowed around the two of you as well, as you stared at each other, your frames lightened by the light inside the tower but also by the stars above and the streets below. Steve's blue eyes reflected the distant lights in an almost impossible way that lit your heart on fire.

There were a thousand things that he wanted to tell you. He wanted to tell you how he thought about you first thing in the morning and last as he closed his eyes to fall asleep. How you made him feel like he belonged in this world that wasn't his. You were amongst the few people who did not see the old soldier in him, but the man behind the shield. You had never made a snarky remark about his lack of knowledge to a reference, and he was grateful for it. You loved sharing the things you loved and that's what drove you when you showed him things he had missed during his time in the ice. It wasn't in a will to change him and make him fit better into a world he had been pushed into, it was in a desire to show him something you were passionate about, simply because you liked talking about it. It wasn't about changing him, it was about sharing. And the majority of people he had met since he had been awakened did not share that state of mind, but the opposite.

He longed to tell you how much he loved hearing you laugh, and thought you had the most adorable smile, and how he admired your smart mind, and how he respected you and your opinion about everyone else's…

There were a million words to be spoken and a thousand thoughts to articulate, but all that passed his lips when he finally mustered the strength to talk was a mere invitation, although it still sounded like a declaration.

"Would you like to dance, Y/N?"

Your heart skipped a beat or two as he called you by your first name, and dear God, did your name sounded wonderful rolling on his tongue. His hand rose as he offered you his open palm, fingers trembling slightly, blue eyes drenched in reflected lights still capturing your gaze and your entire life too. You were vaguely aware of people inside, and maybe some were staring at the two of you, but you couldn't find a way to care, nor even to check if your assumption was correct. Instead, you could not look away from Steve.

There were so many words you meant to speak and thoughts to express and confessions to free from the safety of your heart. How you adored how kind he was, and selfless. How you respected how driven he was and always right to his beliefs. And an infinity of other tiny things that had made you slowly and yet irrevocably fall in love with him.

Instead, you smiled up at him, and spoke only an answer, that still sounded like a promise.

"I would love to."

You thought he would bring you back inside, but he didn't. Instead, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer in a soft gesture. You slipped your hand in his and he gave your fingers a tender squeeze.

You started to sway with the gentle tune, but could barely acknowledge the movements of your feet. You were so close to him, he was so close to you… how could you survive this?

Calloused fingers held yours in a gentle hold, his other hand resting in the small of your back, drawing you closer and closer in an embrace that grew tighter every second and yet of which you knew you could free yourself of if you wanted. It felt safe. Warm. Peaceful. And safe, yes, so safe, so comfortable, you could lay your life in his hands blindly and wouldn't even worry about it. You couldn't remember when was the last time you felt like this, like this man before you could never make anything to hurt you, like not in a million years would he let anything bad happen to you. It felt like a lifetime ago that you trusted a man so thoroughly as you trusted Steve now.

There was warmth spreading from your body to his, reassuring, soothing. A calming glow oozing from your soul conquering his last lines of defence. He couldn't fight against you. He loved you too much for it. All he could do before you was to lay down his arms and offer you his heart on a plate. It was dangerous, and yet he was not afraid. He trusted you too blindly to worry about what you could do with his most precious offering. You would do with it what you pleased. He would accept it all no matter what. It could either bring him back to life or break him for good, but in any case, he would not regret giving you his heart. He knew so much, at least.

He leaned down, your bodies too close to be moved closer to each other by then, resting his jaw against your temple. He remained quiet and so did you, although your two pounding hearts spoke better than your tongues at this moment.

There were no words needing to be spoken, you both knew that this feeling coursing through your bodies now was the feeling of coming home.

Inside the busy crowd, Sam was finishing his third glass of bourbon, while Bucky drank the last drop of his third beer. They exchanged a glance, and Bucky extended his hand. Sam could only chuckle before reaching for his wallet and slipping a twenty dollar bill in Bucky's hand. He had lost his wager, but learnt an important lesson.

One should never underestimate the sense of romance of Captain America, especially if he is wearing that kind of suit.

*****************************************************************

Tag list : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi

@madamrogers

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #captain america imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #writing

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 5 years ago

Text

Family Fights - Chapter three

Summary: Even the strongest bond, the most loving family, can be broken by nightmares, and the librarian is soon to learn this. As she learns sinister things about a person who she had thought was lost forever, she realizes she will need the help of another witch to get her family back.

Notes: I really need to write this fic real quick before season two comes around and smashes all my headcanons lol

(chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3)

Both Hilda and Johanna gasped as Maven pushed one of bookshelves aside with great effort to reveal a passage to another room. The library was still closed, so there were no other patrons around to behold the sight of the librarian stepping into the grim hidden chamber.

There was a click as she pressed a light switch and the room was cast in light. It was still darker than the rest of the library, but now at least they could properly see where they were going. After tree steps down the stairs, Maven looked back and gestured for the two of them to follow her inside.

“I’m not allowed to show this room to patrons, so I’d appreciate your discretion.” The librarian asked as she hopped down the last steps and headed for the writing desk that sat at the base of the staircase, a dark wooden piece of furniture with a lamp sitting on top of it and a red armchair by its side. There were scrolls of parchment laying on it, remnants of the research she’d done few days before, that hadn’t been put away because she had planned to come back to it when she had the time. But now she had something more important to focus on.

She had time to put the desk to sorts as Hilda and her mother descended the stair very slowly, taking in every bit of the room with slacked jaws. Hilda looked outright delighted, while Maven could tell Johanna was a bit apprehensive of the whole situation.

“What is this place?” Johanna asked, taking in the walls covered from top to bottom with books and ancient tapestries with symbols and creatures she didn’t recognize.

“Why is it a secret?” Hilda added with her voice filled with awe.

“This is where we keep all books on witchcraft and magic.” Maven looked around. She’d never get tired of admiring this place. “Witches have been in Trollberg ever since it was founded, you know? The first librarian was one of us. He arranged this room for our kind to be able to store our knowledge in a safe place. Since then, the magical families in town have been passing the information about this place down the generations. It was also very common that witches would become the librarians, in order to protect this place.”

There was a beat of silence before Hilda asked, this time much closer to Maven who was running her eyes through the books in one of the shelves. She looked like she knew exactly what she was looking for. “Is this why you chose this job?”

She chuckled, though she still looked serious. “No, it was just because I’m a bookworm. Though this place is very important to me as well.”

“There are other magical families in Trollberg?” Johanna asked with her arms crossed. She didn’t think the librarian would have lied to her when she said there were no other witches in town, but she had to be sure.

Maven shrugged, looking sad as she ran her finger down the spine of a book with dark blue leather binding. “There used to be. Few, but enough that there were also other places where we used to gather. But they’re gone. Some families died out. Others reached a point where the youngest generation didn’t have a gift for magic, or decided it was too much trouble and not fit for the modern world. A few even moved out of town.”

She took the book she had been caressing out of the shelf, its name written in golden letters at the cover. “My family was the last one. But now there’s only me.”

She took her eyes from the book to her guests, cringing when she saw the look of pity on their faces. “Sorry about that. Why don’t you come here, Hilda?”

Hilda looked at her mother, who nodded her permission, and sat down on the armchair as Maven had indicated. The librarian moved around to lean against the backrest, and placed the book on Hilda’s lap. “Page one hundred and thirty nine.”

The girl opened the book on the place she had been told to. It had been written by hand, she realized. The page was the beginning of a chapter, and on the top of it ‘Becoming a Marra’ had been written in bold letters.

“This is the most complete book on the Marra we have”, the librarian said above her. Hilda skimmed through the chapter, finding herself confused as another chapter began and she still hadn’t found the ritual that the librarian had mentioned when she asked for her help.

“There’s a lot of stuff here… but nothing about turning them back.” She pointed out, raising her eyes to the librarian.

Maven brought one hand down to the book, finding the page she had been looking for with no trouble after spending so much time studying the tome as she had. There was a small envelope glued to it, and she opened it and carefully took out the old, wrinkly piece of parchment inside. “There is no specific spell for this purpose. But one of the researchers who added information to this book after the original author died believed that an already existing ritual would work.”

Hilda squinted at the note. It had very few details, but it at least informed where said ritual could be found. “The Manipulation of Mind, Soul and Body?” She asked. “Do you have this book here?”

The librarian nodded and walked to the opposite wall, looking for the book to show Hilda. This time, she took a little while longer; this wasn’t a book she needed as often as the other one. When she did find it though, she came back to Hilda’s side and found Johanna kneeling in front of her child to read the book as well.

Maven opened the book in her hands and searched the glossary for the chapter she needed, turning the pages carefully due to their age; she wasn’t certain about this particular copy, but the book itself was older than their town.

“Here.” She gave the book to the girl, who closed the blue one and returned it to the librarian. Maven kept the book on the Marra in her hands. As soon as the two of them left, she’d put it on one of the drawers on the circulation desk to remember to take it home with her that night.

“Awesome!” Hilda whispered excitedly as she read about the ritual, while Johanna frowned at the yellow ink stained paper.

“Would Hilda be able to do this? Is it even possible?” She asked with a concern that Maven couldn’t begrudge her.

“The point of this spell is to gather and manipulate energy until the witches can, through their intent, craft a new soul. The possible dangers in the process come mainly from how much energy is needed, and how much control it takes to make all that energy submit to you. This first problem is easy to take care of. If we pick a proper day and use the right components, it shouldn’t bother us.”

“Components?” Hilda interrupted her, making the librarian turn her gaze to the little girl who was her only hope.

“Yes. In this case, it would mostly be crystals and a proper wand, though candles will also help.”

She looked back at Johanna, who was beginning to look genuinely interested in what she had to say. “As for the other matter, that’s what the training is for. She’d learn how to control energy as well as the theory parts of witchcraft.”

Johanna locked her eyes with the ground, a wary look still on her face, and Maven reached out a hand to touch her shoulder. Their gazes met.

“I know we still don’t know each other well, but I need you to trust that I would only allow Hilda to help me once I was sure she was ready. I would never risk your family to try to save mine.”

“I want to help her, mum!” Hilda said, making Johanna tear her eyes away from Maven, and the librarian let her hand drop to her side.

“You have to be sure.” Maven told her as she turned to her once more. “Once your magic is unlocked, it can’t be hidden away again”

Hilda seemed to think for a few moments before she asked. “Why would I want to hide it?”

Maven sighed in a tired manner and moved to look for yet another book. “I’m afraid that is the first lesson.”

Not a minute later, Maven dropped a book with black covering and silver letters on her lap, and sighed again. “To put it shortly, most humans hate witches because they have magic. Most magical creatures hate witches because they’re humans. You’ll forever be in a limbo you can’t escape”

“The History of Witchcraft.” Hilda whispered as she read the book’s title.

“I have to open the library soon, but feel free to ask anything now and take it home, should you wish it.”

She opened it and immediately coughed because of the dust inside the tome. “This looks like it hasn’t been opened in years!”

There’s only so much reading that a person can do by herself, Maven though.

“Can you tell me something?” She asked, sensing that she would have a hard time reading such a long, heavy book. “When did witches come to Trollberg?”

“We were always here”, Maven said as she sat down on the stair. “We helped build the town. Everyone thinks that it was a bunch of men with beards and their violence that helped keep the trolls out. But it has always be us who had knowledge about nature and how to deal with it. We already lived in this place when there came group of people who wanted to build a haven safe of danger, safe of magic.”

Safe of anything interesting, Hilda mused.

“The witches helped them, but when the walls were up, it soon became clear that they were included in this group of creatures too dangerous to be around the good people of Trollberg. Luckily, the people in power were way to grateful for their help to be able to send them away.” She shrugged. “They were probably also afraid of being cursed, but that’s not the point. Witches were allowed to stay as long as we were discreet and practiced our craft in secret.”

“Have you ever seen the book with the drawing or picture of every librarian the town’s had?” They shook their heads in a negative gesture. “You’d have noticed that many of them had unusual hair colors, though normal enough not to awake suspicion. A red a little too fiery, a blond a little too bright, dark strands that shone silver with light…”

“Does your sister have hair like us?” Hilda asked suddenly, making Maven startle with the unexpected question.

“Yes… she used to have the most beautiful lavender hair. She’d keep only one strand with its true colour and die the rest black like me.” She answered even as she fought back waves of sadness and anger and bitterness.

Knowing her daughter as she did, Johanna knew that she’d probably begin asking more about Maven’s sister now that she’d gotten started, and Johanna sensed that the librarian really didn’t have the energy for that at the moment. So she made a show of looking her watch and gasping.

“Oh, I think we should go now! The library will really have to open soon.”

Maven smiled at her, thankful for the interruption. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Which days do you have available for our lessons?”

Hilda looked up in a pensive manner. “Saturday, obviously. And Wednesdays. They are okay too.”

The librarian nodded and got up, gesturing for them to climb up the stairs before her. “In this case, I’ll see you next Wednesday.”

_#_#_#_

Not for the first time in two years, Maven felt too sick in her own room to sleep there.

She didn’t need to bring anything with her. She still kept her parent’s room tidy, the bed made for any occasions like this. Today was just one of these days when she couldn’t stand to look at Myra’s empty bed, at the clothes still in her side of the wardrobe, at the picture of their family she’d torn on her last day with them.

It was too painful to remember it all over again.

But as she walked to her parent’s old room that night, already clad in her purple and grey pajamas with her dear catowl perched on her shoulder, she couldn’t help but remember.

Myra has been so upset that night. Both Maven and Amaris were already home and getting dinner started when she stormed into the house, crying and shaking from the rain outside, her clothes dirty with mud. She let herself fall in front of the fireplace, which they had lit because of the cold night, and both her sister and her mother ran to her and began asking her questions.

When she controlled her sobs and looked up, there was no sadness in her gaze. There was only anger. Maven had few to no memories of the teenage drama she’d been trough in her own teenage years, much less of Myra’s, so even though she could describe every second of what had happened that night at their house, she had to admit she probably couldn’t do the same with her sister’s story. She could remember that the same group of mean people that had been bothering Myra for a while had been the cause of her anger and also the state of her clothes. She could remember that her sister’s humiliation had been heightened by the fact that she’d been with a new girl who she was trying to befriend when the incident happened. But looking back, she could see that that had not been the day Myra had snapped; that had happened long before. That had only been the day she had made a decision. A terrible decision.

Maven sat down on the edge of her parents’ bed, letting Freya leave her shoulder in favor of her lap. She caressed the soft fur-like plumes in its head and ears, moving down to gently run her fingers through the dark feathers or her wings. Freya’s tail tried to curl around her legs in a gesture of affection, and the librarian smiled despite her inner turmoil.

She remembered how she had tried to hug her sister, only to have the girl tense up like she was being approached by a snake. When Maven drew back, Myra met her eyes.

“Do something.” She said, and then turned to their mother. “Why don’t you ever do anything? Why do you just let this happen to me?”

Amaris and Maven shared a look. They had had that conversation before, many times. They knew what she was talking about, but they pretended not to.

“We have already talked to the headmaster, Myra. Many times.”

“And with the teachers too.” Maven added. “But I’m sure they’ll do something now, sweetie. We have proof of physical assault.”

As Maven gestured to her sister’s clothes, the girl’s eyes darkened and her voice became a whisper. “You know what I’m talking about, and I know you can use your magic to help me.”

“As we have said before, we can.” Their mother explained with all the patience she had, bless her soul. “We can put a glamour on you so that you’ll go unnoticed by them. Or try a charm to make them sweeter people.”

“We could make you an amulet with enchantments for protection.” Maven suggested, gently grasping Myra’s coat and trying to take it off of her so she wouldn’t be wearing wet clothes, but failing when Myra didn’t move a muscle.

“This is not what I want!” She insisted, shrugging her sister away from her. “I know you can hex them! Then they’d leave me alone. You just don’t want to!”

This made Amaris sigh, and rest her hands in her knees. “My dear, you know why we can’t do that. Do what ye will, harm ye none, remember?”

“But they are harming me!”

“And it will come back to them, eventually!” Her sister assured her. “And it’s not like we’re not doing anything, Myra! We’ve already talked to the school and their parents. We’ll talk to the headmaster once more, and if it still doesn’t work…”

Maven spread her hands in front of herself, not really knowing what to say.

“Then we can have you change schools, if that’s what you want.” Their mother suggested, but it seemed to be the wrong answer, as Myra screeched in frustration and got up.

“I don’t want to change schools!” She shouted. “I want them to feel like I feel! I want to make them scared! I want them to know what it is like to feel cornered!”

“And we don’t blame you for that.” Maven got up and crossed her arms, upset with her sister’s outburst. “But we will not use our craft for revenge purposes!”

“We will do whatever we can to help you, but witches are guardians of the earth, my dear.” Amaris said in a peaceful tone of voice. “We are not punishers.”

Myra stomped her foot on the floor. “I hate this!”

Her shout made both mother and sister take a step back. “I hate this useless power that we can’t use to help us! I hate all the rules and guidelines, and I hate that you two value your precious craft more than you value me!”

They gasped. Amaris was quick to put a reassuring hand on Myra’s shoulder, but it was shrugged off as soon as it reached her. “Darling, that’s not…”

“Shut up!” She screamed, and stomped off to their room. “I hate all of you.”

She locked the door behind her, but Maven followed her and knocked hard on it. “How dare you speak to our mother this way? Apologize to her now, Myra!”

There was no reply from inside, so the librarian huffed in annoyance and turned to her mother, who was clearly beginning to cry.

“Have we truly neglected her, Maven?” She whispered into her older daughter’s neck, her frail frame shaking slightly in the librarian’s arms.

“I- I don’t think so, mother.” Maven answered though she didn’t sound sure at all. Ever since their father died, Myra’s rages against their culture had been a somewhat common occurrence that they had to deal with. But it was never this bad. She never said such cruel things about them, which made Maven wonder if maybe they truly were putting their craft above their family.

With those disturbing thoughts, they went back to their cooking. Maven set out the table really slowly, trying to postpone the inevitable, but eventually there was nothing else left to do but call her sister to come eat dinner.

She knocked on the room’s door, gently this time.

“Sweetie, come eat. You can grab your plate and come back to your room, if you want.”

There was no answer.

“Myra, please. Open the door.”

She tried opening it but it was still locked. “It’s just dinner. You don’t even need to look at our faces if you don’t want to.”

Maven tried opening it a few more times, and then began getting nervous. “Myra? Myra, please!”

Hearing her daughter’s distress, Amaris went to the room the two of them shared as well.

“It’s locked.” Maven said when she arrived. “And it won’t open. She’s not replying either.”

Amaris leaned the side of her head against the door, straining to hear anything at all, but no sound came from the inside. “Myra, were coming in.”

With a simple enchantment, Amaris unlocked the door and Maven ran inside, her heart nearly beating out of her body when she found no one in the room. Their mother ran to check the adjoining bathroom, but one look at Myra’s bedside table and Maven knew it was hopeless.

Her sister kept a photo of the tree of them on a frame. The picture was now ripped to shreds, and surrounding it, there was a circle of vivid green smoke.

Maven’s knees gave out under her, bringing her to the ground. She closed her mouth with her hand to stop a desperate sob from coming forth, but she couldn’t stop the tears forming in her eyes. When she came into the bedroom again, their mother noticed it too. She rummaged through the room, looking for any sign that her daughter was still there, hiding at some corner, while chanting “no, no, no.”

Eventually she too had to admit defeat. She knew just as well as her daughter that this left over magic was a tell tale sign of the Marra. She dropped to the ground near Maven and they cried for hours, until they found strength to get up and look for any information about the Marra they could get their hands on.

On multiple occasions, they had tried to summon the Marra for one of them to lead them back to Myra; but it never worked. The Marra very rarely scared adults, as it was much harder to truly frighten them. They had tried every trick and every spell they could think of to retrieve their Myra, but it had always been fruitless.

And of course it had been fruitless, Maven now thought bitterly as she tucked herself into what used to be her mother’s side of the bed. They had thought that the poor girl must have been captured when the Marra sensed she was weak, and an easy target. It had been known to happen. It wouldn’t be the first time the Nightmare Spirits would have captured an innocent person to experiment and train their scaring on, letting them go when they had no use for said person anymore.

Being under the Marta’s thumb usually had life long consequences; those victims were known to never come back to who they were before after such traumatizing experiences. Maven had had more than one nightmare about her little sister, the one she had sworn to protect, wandering around the woods, her eyes bloodshot and her body weak, rambling about monsters and devils and jumping at the slightest of sounds.

But they had been wrong. Their love for Myra had made them blind to the fact that the girl had apparently knowingly, willingly joined them. So of course it hadn’t worked.

And what was agonizing Maven the most was, it probably wouldn’t work now either. She could train a thousand witches, could make them the most powerful spell casters the world had ever seen, and it still would be pointless if she couldn’t convince her sister to accept the help she was offering.

She lied on her side and looked at the night sky outside; she was used to letting the curtains open when she went to sleep, so as to wake up with the sun. She wondered where her sister was, at that moment. If she was scaring someone, if she was around that freaky campfire. Unfortunately, the only place Maven knew Myra was not was at the room in the end of the corridor.

“Oh, Myra.” She whispered tiredly as Freya settled herself by her feet. “What have you done?”

#fic: family fights #hilda librarian #hilda librarian fanfic #hilda the series #hilda fanfic #the marra hilda #the marra fanfic

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itsclydebitches · 5 years ago

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RWBY: The Horcrux Theory

Yesterday when I answered the lovely @leonhaxor‘s ask, I was surprised by the number of people who said they hadn’t heard about this theory before; people like me who are invested in the characterization of Volume Six and presumably would have come across it. I figure then that I either saw this theory on another blog and it didn’t spread in the way I assumed it would, or I thought of it myself, forgot it, and upon remembering it assumed I’d seen it elsewhere. Considering both of these things have happened to me in the past more than once (woo shit memory!), your guess is as good as mine. The important thing is the theory is here now and I’d like to take the time to lay it out in a more organized---and hopefully more persuasive*---manner.

(*As a bit of a disclaimer, I’m really just working with what I perceive as a valid interpretation of the text, not a theory in the sense that I expect Rooster Teeth to implement it in Volume Seven. If that were the case, I’d have expected our finale to paint Ruby and the rest as less heroic/justified in their actions, instead emphasizing how OOC they are, thereby setting up a situation wherein they would eventually question why their outlook and behavior has changed so drastically. But we didn’t get that. So this is less, “Sincere expectations for Volume Seven!” and more “Based on what Volume Six gives us, this is a plot twist that could work for these reasons...”)

Let’s start with the title. For anyone who may not know, a horcrux is a magical object within the Harry Potter universe that houses a piece of someone’s soul, a way of ensuring that they live on even if their body is killed. Within the plot, Voldemort (our primary antagonist) creates multiple horcruxes, one of which is carried by our heroes over a long journey. The object’s dark nature as well as its limited ability to think for itself results in a dramatic change in the group over time. They become moodier, more prone to fighting, and one character in particular, Ron, succumbs to a number of doubts and fears he’s been carrying since we met him at the start of the series. Thanks to the horcrux’s influence, he ends up acting in ways he otherwise never would have, including saying things he does not mean (“Your parents are dead. You have no family!”) and settling on courses of actions he later regrets (abandoning the group).

We can see some similarities then between the two situations, both in the Relic’s potential influence on those who carry it---to the point where, the longer they hold onto it, the more likely they are to act in ways contrary to their nature---and in the concept of a magical object being able to think for itself. Obviously Jinn is far more of a person than a sliver of a soul is, but the point is each has a certain amount of agency. As leonhaxor points out in response to my original post, there are also numerous similarities between this potential setup and the ring from Lord of the Rings. There we have another powerful, semi-sentient magical object carried by our heroes over a long journey, slowly corrupting them overtime. I think the variety of source material here is worth noting. Meaning, it doesn’t matter which comparison between stories is “best,” but rather that such comparisons are common. The Corruptible Object is an established motif in fantasy storytelling and RWBY is a web series that is highly invested in re-creating standard setups (such as fairy tales) and then attempting to subvert/complicate them. It makes a great deal of sense then that they would use a trope seen in two of the most popular fantasy series ever created, and then work to update it: the Relic is not a simplistic, pure evil thing like the ring or a horcrux is. It functions in similar ways, but---like most else in RWBY post-Volume Three---has a more complex morality attached to it. Jinn seems kindly at times, the Relic was created by the God of Light, etc. Form then, our expectations for how Rooster Teeth pulls from popular storytelling and incorporates those elements into their narrative, can be used as a potential bit of evidence.

But onto the juicier stuff.

The first thing that’s worth establishing is that all of Ozpin’s plans and choices function on multiple levels. For example, take letting Ruby into Beacon. He seems to have done this because she’s a prodigy, and because she has an excellent moral compass, and because a Silver Eyed Warrior is useful in the fight against Salem, and because Beacon is the safest place for someone belonging to a group that Salem has actively hunted in the past, and because she’s now drawn attention to herself by fighting Roman and Cinder. Phew. There’s a lot at play here. This sort of thinking is important because even if we introduce the possibility of the Relic encouraging negative emotions, it means we needn’t undermine any of the already established reasons for Ozpin’s choices in regards to its safety. Why does he put the Relic in a massive, underground vault that looks like it exists in its own pocket of reality?

Obviously to make it difficult to get at, but also, perhaps, to make sure that the Relic is as far away from humanity as possible, unable to influence them. (As a side note: creating what essentially looks like a mini-dimension removed from the real world would definitely drain someone of their remaining magic.) When Yang first enters the vault we see bits of dirt and sand floating upwards, defying gravity, much like how the snow stops when Jinn appears. The Relic appears to have an impact on its environment, perhaps one that grows stronger the longer it stays in one place. Ozpin hides it deep below the earth, in its own little pocket of reality, because otherwise having the Relic sit in one place for too long is going to cause real problems.

Why put it under a school? Both so that there’s extra protection and because these are the people most equipped to deal with the Relic’s influence. If it does still manage to produce negativity---and as a result draws more Grimm---do you want a bunch of untrained civilians dealing with that, or the people used to both managing stress and fighting monsters? Why take the Relic immediately to Atlas? Because, as said, safety works in a multitude of ways. You’ve put the Atlesian army between both Salem and any Grimm the Relic may call; you’ve put the Relic in the city that’s most prepared to deal with the consequences attached to it. All of Ozpin’s choices remain logical even if we introduce the possibility that the Relic is capable of more than just answering questions.

But I’m actually getting ahead of myself. We’re still working under the assumption that the Relic produces negativity at all, so let’s take a moment to lay out some evidence for that.

In short, it comes down to the fact that the Relic attracts Grimm. Ozpin says straight out that he's not “entirely sure” why this is the case, but he clearly has theories, one of which has to do with the Grimm’s “origins.” AKA, the God of Darkness who we know after this episode created beings that are both physical representations of, and are attracted to, negativity. That’s their origin.

The simplest explanation here is that the Relic is somehow producing the thing we already know the Grimm are attracted to: negativity of any sort. Rather than introducing another, convoluted bit of lore---Grimm are attracted to negativity AND now any objects explicitly created by the gods---it would make sense to streamline things. The Grimm are still attracted to the same things they’ve always been attracted to, it’s just now we have an object that actively produces that. It would explain why Ozpin describes the attraction as “faint, but undeniable.” After all, there’s plenty of negativity in the world. Nearby Grimm might get distracted by something bigger and nastier, but you’re more likely to become a target if you’re in the presence of something that eats away at your ability to remain optimistic and generate kindness. This explanation would also function well thematically, both for the trope reasons discussed above, and due to the nature of djinns and genies. I’ve laid out elsewhere how Jinn herself is rather manipulative, subtly encouraging cruelty towards Ozpin as well as reckless behavior in Ruby. Jinn is the lamp, so if that’s her characterization, why not extend that a little further? As an entity she actively does what the lamp passively does: encourage fear, mistrust, and anger towards others.

What’s immediately notable to me then is how negative moods seem to follow the Relic around, literally coming and going as the Relic does. One of the happiest moments in Volume Six is when everyone gets on the train and the girls are settling into their room. It’s just like old times with arguments about video games, Qrow coming in to tease his nieces, Weiss getting playfully annoyed at Ruby, etc. Sure, we also deal with some of Blake’s lingering doubts in regards to Yang, but it’s an incredibly optimistic conversation. Everyone is supporting one another here, everyone is smiling... and notably Ozpin, carrying the Relic, is absent. It doesn’t register as odd to us because Oscar and Ozpin have been removed from most group gatherings that don’t relate immediately to the war, most obviously when Oscar doesn’t join the re-united groups for their celebratory dinner in Haven. His absence makes sense, but it also happens to coincide with one of the last truly happy scenes we get this Volume (the other being the reunion with Jaune’s sister). If we buy into this idea that the Relic can impact people over time, Ozpin’s absence might also help explain why things don’t start going south until the train. As established, he keeps his distance within the Haven house. Except for explaining the Relic’s function---which lasts for only a minute or so, wherein the conversation presumably ends and Ozpin leaves the group to their chit-chat, taking the Relic with him---and other logistical details in regards to their journey, Ozpin and Oscar might have kept to themselves, thereby limiting the rest of the group’s exposure to the Relic.

From then on though the group is forced to keep close quarters with Ozpin and the morale very quickly takes a nosedive. Whoever is holding the Relic and whoever else is in its immediate vicinity demonstrates an incredibly short fuse, starting with Oscar getting into a fight with Dudley and Dudley getting mad enough to shove him in the middle of a fight.

We then see the group’s knee-jerk fury over Ozpin’s new bit of information while back on the train, Yang antagonizing him in the snow, all the way through to the group drawing their weapons on Qrow, an ally and uncle, for merely saying, “Hey.” As myself and others immediately pointed out when the episode aired, that is not a normal response for these girls, especially when Qrow isn’t even the one they’re mad at. What’s difficult in analyzing a theory like this is that we have to acknowledge that all of these emotions are still real. The Relic is just taking them to an extreme that results in unexpected and inappropriate behavior. The Relic isn’t producing these feelings of anger and hurt and confusion---fans are right to establish that it’s natural for the girls to be upset here---but it does seem to be escalating things at an unnatural rate. Which is why I chose the horcrux as a comparison. Just like Ron under normal circumstances, outside of the necklace’s influence, would never say or do these things, neither would the group outside of the Relic’s influence. They’d all feel the same things, they’d just a) be experiencing the normal amount of those emotions and b) be better able to manage their response to them.Things like drawing their weapons, punching Oscar, slamming him up against walls, abject pessimism, rejecting adults, deciding to steal an airship, insisting on fighting Cordovin, or letting out a furious, “He was watching us?” when you learn Ozpin just saved your teammates’ lives are all pretty unexpected explosions among a group that’s normally more diverse, more level-headed, and more compassionate. Volume Six is absolutely stuffed with examples of extreme behavior, actions and knee-jerk reactions that don’t fit the crime and don’t fit established characterization. We can chalk it up to terrible writing, or we can theorize that maybe, just maybe, something is encouraging them to act in this manner.

With these explanations in mind, consider how Ozpin reacts to Ruby merely touching the Relic. It’s quick, but when he finds out she has it his response is wide-eyed fear and an immediate, “Please hand it over.”

Based on what we already know, this makes no sense to me. Why would Ozpin be fearful? Ruby quite literally can’t do anything with the lamp until she has Jinn’s name---his secrets are safe. Even if they weren’t, or even if his trauma is convincing him here that Ruby might somehow divine that there are questions left and find a way to use one of them against him, I can’t believe that Ozpin would deal with that situation in this particular way. Meaning, the guy has a pretty level head and he’s good at putting people at ease. How do you get your Relic back without drawing attention to the fact that it’s still usable? By expressing relief that Ruby found it. Oh good. It’s safe. Wonderful, I’ll just casually take it back now. Yet Ozpin is incapable of doing any of that here. He sees Ruby holding it and is blurting out an instinctual request: “Please give it back.” It implies that his only concern is to get it out of her hands as quickly as possible, which in turn suggests that merely holding it has some sort of consequence attached. This isn’t a problem (questions) that he can take the time to carefully coax a solution to, this is a problem (her holding it) that needs to be solved now. Right this instant. Please drop the magical object that encourages depression and fury in people nearby. That’s my burden to (literally) carry.

He even reminds them then that it’s a “powerful item” (again, what power is at play if Ruby can’t summon Jinn?) and that it’s “[his] burden to bear.” Blake picks up on that implication and asks for us, “Why does it matter who carries it?” but Ozpin isn’t inclined to answer. He simply begs them to listen to him and then Oscar takes control, revealing Jinn’s name. But the question still stands. Why does it matter who carries it, provided that no one else has the word needed to access the Relic’s one, established power? Ozpin’s behavior here suggests that there’s more he’s worried about than just his (well founded) fear that they’ll somehow ask a question.

In my recap of “Uncovered” I theorized that there was a consequence to using the Relic given Ozpin’s non-violent desperation to get it out of Ruby’s hands. If you’re concerned only with keeping your own secrets... just take the damn thing. Ozpin might be in Oscar’s body now, but he’s still incredibly powerful. He could snatch the Relic out of Ruby’s hands easy-peasy, but only if he’s unconcerned with her mental and physical health. If, on the other hand, you’re likewise concerned with keeping her from using it because it would harm her in some way, you’re not going to exacerbate that problem by putting her in even more, potential danger. Instead you beg. You plead. You try to reason. You charge with an open palm, looking like you want only to knock the Relic out of her hands.

That assumed consequence could be a sort of double-dose of whatever negativity the Relic is already producing; an emotional whammy thanks to the increased interaction: someone near the relic won’t be as impacted as someone holding the relic, who in turn won’t be as impacted as someone who actually uses it. While re-watching some scenes for this meta, it struck me that twice now we’ve seen characters collapse immediately after that close interaction:

Granted yes, both Yang and Ozma are reacting to already terrible news: Yang that Raven has officially abandoned her and Ozma that he presumably can’t beat Salem. Visually though it’s an intriguing detail. Those who touch/use the relic tend to buckle under its weight. It literally and figuratively generates the sort of emotion that causes people to collapse in despair. So why don’t we see any more of this? Why isn’t Ozpin falling over in Haven and Ruby on the rest of their journey? Potentially because of either their Silver Eyes or what Silver Eyes represent. We know that Ozpin’s magic is what created children with Silver Eyes in the first place, so it could be that his original magic---Light’s magic---helps to act as a buffer against the Relic’s influence. Ozpin and Ruby are both able to interact with it more easily than others because of that buffer. That is, up until Ruby has been carrying/sleeping with it for days on end and is now mistrustful of Ozpin and throwing herself into canons; up until Ozpin has been carrying/sleeping with it for days on end and is now much more snappish towards his students than normal. Or, a related theory, it’s just their innate natures that do the trick, no literal magic involved. Ruby is the “simple soul” of our story and Ozpin the one who believes simple souls hold the key to success. They’re both already optimists at their core and therefore it takes longer to eat away at those beliefs. Unlike someone like Yang or Qrow who is already grappling with anger and pessimism. They fall right under the Relic’s influence.

All of this would, put plainly, explain a whole slew of issues in Volume Six. Why are our characters so OOC? Because magic is seriously putting them off their game and turning them into people they wouldn’t normally be inclined to become. Why wasn’t there an overt downside to using Jinn like many fans expected (given the mythology attached to her)? There was, we just haven’t acknowledged it yet. Why did everyone have a near identical reaction to the Relic’s information, despite being different people with different experiences and worldviews? Because magic created a blanket uniformity of anger, despair, and eventual superiority. What was up with that side quest to the farm that didn’t lead anywhere plot-wise? It’s thematic work, even more-so than the already established “Oh, our characters have doubts about their mission and here are Grimm that literally make them apathetic!” Those moments may also function as a pseudo red herring. No one is theorizing about “things that magically change your mood” because we already got that this volume. Whole episodes worth. It was those Grimm and then the group set them on fire, freeing themselves... except what if there was more than one magical thing influencing them right from the start? It’s the sort of thematic detail you might include to help establish a plot twist.

As said at the start though, I don’t actually believe very strongly that we’ll see this revelation in Volume Seven. There’s too much else that, if I were setting up such a reveal, I would have changed with this information in mind. But I think it’s still a possibility given what we’ve seen and it’s absolutely something I would accept moving forward. I would much rather be able to say, “Ah. Everyone went OOC because of this conflict with the Relic you were setting up. Far from perfect execution, but you still pulled it off.” Rather than what we currently have, which is, “Team RWBY is turning into a bunch of violent, arrogant, and cruel people entirely of their own volition. This is what ‘heroism’ now looks like in the RWBY-verse.” Magical influences, to my mind, are the preferred explanation here.

#rwby #mymetas

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mxliv-oftheendless · 4 years ago

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The Mysterious Disappearance of Heather McMann: Q+A

Oh, what’s this? Why, it’s only the sequel to Heather’s Buzzfeed Unsolved episode! So if you’ll recall, last time we checked in on the Ghoul Boys Heather got her own Buzzfeed Unsolved episode (that’s the link to it right there). So one thing Ryan and Shane do after every episode is a Q+A session called the Postmortem, where they answer any questions and respond to any theories viewers may have. So naturally, I wanted to do a follow-up where questions about Heather were answered! Special thanks to @cosmicrealmofkissteria @ashestoashesvvi and @retronova for sending in questions and theories! Oh yeah, and you’ll want to stick around for the ending... ;)

Also: IT’S @ashestoashesvvi‘s BIRTHDAY!!! So in celebration, I officially dedicate this story to Ash as a birthday gift. Hope you enjoy!!!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The camera opens on Ryan and Shane who are sitting at their postmortem desk. Shane is on the left while Ryan is on our right.

“Hello and welcome to another addition of Buzzfeed Unsolved: Postmortem, a show where we answer your most pressing questions about the most recent episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved, which was Heather McMann.” As Ryan says her name, the camera cuts away to stock footage of a foot lying on a mortuary table, with the tag tied to its toe reading: POSTMORTEM: HEATHER MCMANN. Ryan continues as the camera cuts back to the two.

“All the questions we’re answering today came from you guys via our Buzzfeed Unsolved Facebook page and our Buzzfeed Unsolved Instagram page, as well as the video itself…”

“On BUN!” Shane joins in on saying this, while below them is the link: youtube.com/BuzzFeedUnsolvedNetwork.

“Now this was a very interesting episode,” Ryan says as they pull out their phones. “I’m really interested to hear what people have to say. Especially because, as my research revealed, the KISS Army is very opinionated about some things.”

“Like what?” Shane asks interestedly.

“Uh… there’s this whole thing about how the current lead guitarist doesn’t deserve to wear the Spaceman makeup because he’s not the original Spaceman. Also apparently Paul Stanley is lip syncing because his voice is so horrible nowadays… their words, not mine.”

“Huh. Weird. I mean, in any fanbase, you’re bound to have opinionated people. It doesn’t mean they’re right, just…”

“Yeah. I have looked up footage of their most recent concerts, and Paul Stanley sounds fine. Like, for the record, I don’t think he’s lip syncing. Maybe his voice is just not what it used to be because of age.”

“Yeah,” Shane chuckles, “there is such a thing as the passage of time,”

Ryan snickers. “Exactly. Okay, let’s open up with this question from Gramtown…”

“Good ol’ Gramtown!”

“This is from Ashes7Moria: #postmortem Heather McMann vanished and has been hanging out with Vinnie Vincent for the past 20 years. I’d love to know what exactly both of them have been up to. 👀👀👀” Ryan looks up at the camera. “Good theory… Actually this could very well be true because I don’t exactly know what Vinnie Vincent is up to, or even where he is now.”

“How can you not know that?”

“Because he disappeared out of the public eye in the nineties. I think it was after a KISS Expo…”

“KISS has expos?”

“KISS has a lot of things, actually. But yeah, it was after a KISS Expo, and he just dropped off the Earth never to be seen again.”

“So yeah, this could be true.”

“Yeah, it could. It could also be not true. But who knows.”

Shane shrugs. “Who knows?”

“Also, good use of the emoji side eyes.”

Shane snickers. “I don’t think they’re having sex, though.” Ryan and Shane laugh.

“Oh my god, Shane,” Ryan snickers. “Good question, Ashes7Moria. Onto our next one. Shane?”

Shane looks down at his phone. “This one comes from YouTube, from r0cketr1de, with a zero and a one, who says: For the post mortem: Could KISS be covering up something terrible that she did? Her stage name WAS Black Dahlia. Maybe she started taking it too literally. #shaniac #loveyoutooryan” He looks up smiling at Ryan. “I swear I didn’t put that in there.”

“No, but you did totally pick that question just to poke fun at me.” Ryan sighs. “Anyway, that question…”

“That’s… wow. That’s pretty interesting.”

“It is a pretty interesting theory. We did make the connection of Black Dahlia in the video, if you’ll recall…”

The camera cuts away to the video footage:

did she have an onstage persona?

yeah, she did. hers was the Black Dahlia.

nice. reminds me of the murder.

it probably reminded a lot of people of the murder

Shane says, “It could be possible she had a little, ah, slip in her mental stability and just started killin’ a bunch of people.”

“I—” Ryan bursts out laughing. “Jesus Christ, man…”

“Hey, it’s possible!”

“I don’t think it’s possible. From what I could gather, Heather McMann doesn’t fit the profile of a would-be psychopath. And even if she was, she’s not someone like George Hodel.”

“Who knows, Ryan,” Shane smirks at him. “Maybe she was the one who really killed Elizabeth Short, and took on the name Black Dahlia as a little fun trademark.”

“That would only be possible if she was born in the early twentieth century, which she wasn’t. She’s not immortal.”

“Well some people on the Internet seem to think she is,” Shane laughs.

Ryan sighs and shakes his head, then turns back to the camera. “But anyway, yeah, I don’t think that’s possible. That’s a fun theory though…”

“Like something from a Holly Horsely novel.”

“Oh yeah, we haven’t heard from her in a while!” Ryan exclaims. “I’ve actually missed her short stories!”

Shane points at the camera. “Holly, if you’re doing all right, let us know. We’d love to hear from you again.”

“Okay, next question. This one comes from Instagram, from phantomofthepark, who says: I still think she was only around with the band cause she slept her way in and they tossed her out when she was all used up.”

The background music stops. Ryan and Shane look at each other, then at the camera.

“Well that’s bullshit,” Shane says.

“Yeah, that’s pretty bullshit. She was a very good player. There’s concert footage of her playing with the band.”

“This just sounds like he’s trying to find a reason that makes sense to him as to why a woman would be playing rock music.”

“It really does.”

“Rolling Stone guy who said this was the end of KISS? Is that you?”

Ryan laughs. “Oh my god, what if it is?”

“If it is… who’s laughing now?” Shane shrugs, grinning at the camera. “They’ve been around for almost fifty years. Get rekt, sir.”

“Also, you’re wrong. Women can play rock music. Have you ever heard of Joan Jett?”

“Oh, I love me some Joan Jett!”

“Yeah, you’re also disregarding all the stuff I said about Paul Stanley wanting her to stay. He wanted her to stay in the band—all of them did, actually—so it doesn’t make sense for them to, as you say, toss her out when she was all used up.”

“Yeah. This is a dumb theory. I’m ruling this out.”

“Yeah, this theory is ruled out. Next question.”

Shane looks down at his phone. “Let’s get a question from Facebook, from Shandi Strutter, who says: For the postmortem: Have you ever wondered if Heather might be dead? There’s no evidence to prove that she isn’t, especially if no one has heard from her since she disappeared and she hasn’t been found. #postmortem #boogara #ghostsarerealfyoushane.”

“Okay,” Shane laughs. “We’re even now. Are you proud of yourself?”

Ryan grins at him. “Yes, very proud.” He looks back at the camera. “To answer your question, Shandi…”

“Which by the way is a great name. I’d name my future kid Shandi.”

“It’s from a KISS song, actually.”

“Oh, sweet!”

“Anyway, that is a very good question. It did cross my mind that maybe Heather was murdered. Actually, it was going to be one of the theories that ended up in the video. But when I tried to find evidence of this theory being legitimate, because I try to make most of my theories legitimate, all I could find were a few tabloid magazines with miniscule articles about it. By the time the articles were written, Heather was already out of the public eye for some time.”

“I mean, have they ever talked about Heather in the past tense?”

“Who, KISS?”

“Yeah, KISS. Like Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons, have they ever talked about her in the past tense?”

“I mean, they have…” Ryan looks up at the camera. “This case is a really weird one because it’s the early 80s, everyone’s looking at KISS to see what quote-unquote “mistake” they’ll make next, so there’s going to be a lot of gossip magazines circulating rumors. You have to take a lot of the information surrounding this case with a grain of salt. Also because no body was found, we can’t safely say that she was murdered.”

“We also can’t safely say she wasn’t.” Shane points out.

“That too. Good question.”

“Alright, onto our last question of the day before we get to the Hot Daga!”

Ryan visibly rolls his eyes and audibly sighs, then looks down at his phone. “This is from Gramtown, from…” he reads the name and wheezes in laughter. “… from thayerfucker69.”

Shane starts to laugh. “thayerfucker69… I love that.”

“thayerfucker69 says: #postmortem Let’s say KISS actually are intergalactic beings with superpowers. I’ve heard Paul can predict the future, like something with his eye. What if the song Detroit Rock City was prediction? What if she was killed there and the band somehow knew something was going to happen, even before she joined?”

Shane grins in amusement as Ryan reads. “I mean…” he says when Ryan finishes, “that is a pretty interesting idea.”

“I mean you are taking into consideration an Internet theory perpetuated, probably by the same people who religiously watch Ancient Aliens.”

“Surprised you’re not a member of that crowd, Ryan,”

“I don’t watch Ancient Aliens!”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I—hey, fuck you, man.”

Shane laughs.

“Anyway…” Ryan turns back to the camera. “It would be cool if that theory was true, that KISS really are intergalactic superpowered beings… but I just don’t think it is. If they really were intergalactic superpowered beings, it just seems really outta left field for them to start a rock band on Earth.”

“I do think it would be kinda fun to see the future, though. But just for like, innocent things, like to see if my mom’s going to survive a life-threatening illness or what I’m going to get for lunch tomorrow.”

Ryan looks at him with an odd look. “… Those two are both very different from each other.”

Shane shrugs. “I dunno…” He starts laughing. “Anyway… fun theory. Would be a nice fanfic.”

“Yeah, I can see that existing in fanfic, but not in real life.”

“Like aliens building the Great Pyramids.”

“Fuck you, Shane.” Shane laughs. Ryan shakes his head at him and turns back to the camera. “Well, that does it for this episode of BuzzFeed Unsolved: Postmortem. Be sure to watch the next episode this Friday and send in your questions to the Buzzfeed Unsolved Facebook page, the Instagram page, and comment on the video directly and maybe you’ll be featured on the next postmortem.”

Ryan sighs as the music fades away to more dramatic music. “And with that…” he says, turning to Shane, who has his phone out.

Shane begins to read. “Our weekly Q+A concluded, I now welcome you to the part of the show we call the Hot Daga, the Hot Dog Saga commissioned by—”

“Wait,”

The voice comes from off camera. The music cuts off and Shane stops reading as he and Ryan look up. “What?” Shane asks.

“There’s one more question for you to read.”

Ryan frowns. “But I thought that was all the questions we were gonna do.”

“No, there’s one more. It’s a surprise question.”

“Oohh, a surprise question?” Shane looks intrigued as a woman comes up to them and goes to stand beside Ryan.

“Open your phone,” she instructs, “and go to Instagram. It’s a private post.”

“Okay…” Ryan does as instructed and looks down at his phone as the woman leaves the shot. His eyes widen. “Oh my God…”

“What?”

“It’s from… Okay, I’ll just read it out loud.”

Ryan sits forward and starts to read. “For the postmortem: Hi guys! This is Heather McMann. Excuse the username, trappinguy, I’m borrowing my nephew’s Instagram account for this. You did a great job! Very thorough research, Ryan! Yes, there was a lot of tabloid crap surrounding my argument with Paul, but Paul is right in saying it had nothing to do with What Happened. I will say that I couldn’t have been dating Paul at this time, as the papers insisted—he was in another relationship and I would never do anything to wreck that. Also I was disappointed that you didn’t include the story of how when the band was in Paris on the Unmasked tour Ace made out with Eric after another guy tried to hit on Eric. But I suppose it doesn’t have anything to do with why I disappeared, so I understand. Great video, looking forward to more BuzzFeed Unsolved! #postmortem #boogaraalltheway Cheers, Heather.”

There is silence as Ryan finishes reading. He stares at the phone for a second, then looks up at Shane. “… It’s Heather McMann.”

Shane stares at the phone. “… No way. This isn’t real.”

“I dunno… She did mention the thing about Paris. And the relationship thing. I didn’t even know Paul was in a relationship during this time.”

“… Damn. Now I actually don’t want to do the Hot Daga.” Ryan bursts out laughing, while Shane looks incredibly serious. “How am I gonna follow this?”

Ryan looks at the camera, laughing. “Well, Heather McMann, if this is really you, congratulations. You have single-handedly made Shane Madej unwilling to give us another episode of the Hot Daga. Nice job.”

“Yeah, great job! You are easily the most mysterious woman I’ve ever encountered in my life!”

“Will we get another episode of the Hot Daga next week?”

“Yes.” Ryan visibly sighs in disappointment. Shane points at the camera. “Will we see more adventures with Maizy and her friends? Tune in next week to find out on BUN!”

#black dahlia series #buzzfeed unsolved #this was so much fun to write!#hope y'all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it #also if you haven't watched buzzfeed unsolved I really really REALLY recommend it #also subscribe to ryan and shane's new channel watcher entertainment #hope you enjoyed your birthday gift Ash!#pls accept this humble offering as a sign of how much I love and appreciate our friendship #love ya!#Shandi's KISSteriaverse #kiss au writing #my writing #thanks for reading!#❤️❤️❤️ happy birthday ash!

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staygoldsunshine · 5 years ago

Text

Alexander the Great

A Lumen Story: Part 2

A week later, Mrs. McHale shows up to the PTA meeting with a bruise on her jaw. The other moms shake their heads and murmur their bless-her-heart’s over their lemon sweet tea while silently distancing themselves from the Japanese woman. Nicholas Smoak tells his son all about it at the dinner table.

“Should’ve seen that poor woman tonight,” his thick Southern accent coating all his words in honey. He scratches his full, red beard and sighs. “You’d think he’d have the better sense not to let her out of the house looking like that.”

Xander sets his jaw. “Dad.”

Nicholas looks up from his paper, licks his thumb, and turns the page as easily as he can switch topics of conversation. “How is the McHale boy doing in training, by the way? Coach says he’s been struggling to fit in.”

Xander shrugs his shoulders and stabs his leftovers with his fork. “No kidding.” But when his father clears his throat, Xander’s spine straightens. “He’s cocky, always going on about how good he is, but when he has to fight against someone, he always chokes. Everyone knows he’s just biding time until they kick him out because he’s already been kicked from the AV club. So that means there’s only the choir left for an extracurricular, and everyone knows Miss Agnice would sooner die than let a guy get kicked out of the choir.”

“What do you think?” Nick lets the question simmer between them as Xander sits in nervous silence twisting the blue checkered tablecloth between his fingers. “You know, if you’re going to become the Knight’s Captain, you’re going to have to learn to spot talent among your team.”

And there it is, the inevitable sword hanging above Xander’s head. His dad was Captain, and his grandad was Captain. He’s pretty sure every man in his family, in the whole Smoak line has been the greatest at whatever he’s set out to do, and so Alexander Smoak has to do the same. He has to be great.

“He knows the woods better than anyone,” Xander mutters, thinking of the way Tristan can disappear into those leaves and branches just like a ghost. “When we practice tracking, he finds the trails faster and follows them longer than anyone else, but he’s never made a single kill, even with help.”

“So he is useful.” That’s the thing about his dad. He sees people in terms of usefulness, their abilities lined up against their faults. Those calculating blue eyes are always weighing and judging even through their practiced smile lines, and Xander wonders every day if he stacks up in his dad’s mind. “Interesting, be sure you tell Coach.” Then Nicholas folds his newspaper, gathers his plate, and walks to the kitchen. “I’ll be working late tonight. Be sure you get to bed on time.”

Xander goes back to stabbing his food. “Yes, sir.”

Once his dad has shut himself in his office for the night, Xander gets up, dumps his plate, and rushes up the stairs to finish the Lego set he’s been working on. He opens the door to his room and feels hot, humid air hit his face. The window is open. A gentle breeze send the curtains billowing like the wings of a creature about to take flight.

Xander grabs the sword, the real one, from beside his bed. Lumen don’t come into town, he reminds himself, his heart beating out of control. His head spins, thinking of those claws, the teeth, the bright white eyes. He flicks on the light. And he sees someone leaned against the wall beneath his window.

“McHale?”

Tristan waves. “Hi.” His hair is a mess, littered with leaves and burs. He’s still wearing that stupid jean jacket, and his sneakers are caked in mud. Tristan carries the smell of the woods with him, and Xander realizes that the scent alone makes him uneasy.

Parry the initial attack… “Wh-what in the world are you doing in my house?” Xander shuts the door behind him, but he doesn’t set his sword down.

Tristan shrugs, pulling one of his legs against his chest. He’s all joints and jagged lines. “You know, Dad was in a mood again, so I ducked out and came here.”

Knock his weapon aside… Xander furrows his brow and glares at the flippant intruder. “But why come to my house?”

“Well, it was the biggest one on the block, so I figured it was yours. And since you’re the closest thing I have to a friend, I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind if I hung out for a bit.” Tristan gives a bright smile, the same smile he always has when he enters the ring, knowing he’s going to lose.

This time, however, Xander feels his back hit the dirt, and Tristan wins this round. Xander blinks once, looks away, and blinks again. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” He thinks of his dad, downstairs in his office and considers shouting down to him. His dad will know how to handle this.

Tristan tilts his head to the side and seems to read Xander’s thoughts. “Hey, I’m not too happy with the situation either. Normally I go to Garra Price’s house and crash on her couch, but she’s out of town for a stupid wedding or something.” Then he glances over at the Lego set at the foot of Xander’s bed. “Camouflaged Outpost I see, nice.”

Xander shakes his head and raises the tip of his blade without realizing it. “No, we are not friends. Now get out of my house!”

“We had a conversation last week! You knocked me down a bunch of times, and then you let me win the match. We bonded!” Tristan’s smile is becoming strained, and when Xander takes a step back towards the door, the other boy actually flinches. “Look, please don’t tell your dad I’m here. I can’t go home right now, okay?” The breath of wind that has followed Tristan through the window carries the smell of honeysuckle and fresh rain. Xander grips his sword tighter as he considers the boy sitting on his floor, the boy who doesn’t fit into Xander’s calculated theory of monsters and knights and becoming great.

All Xander sees is a tired boy with a look in his eyes like a dog that’s been kicked too many times, and Xander finally puts his sword down. A good leader helps even the weakest link in his team, right? “Fine, I won’t tell him, but don’t make this a regular thing.”

Tristan nods, a grateful sigh releasing the tension from his shoulders. “Yeah, yeah, it won’t happen again.”

It happens again, several times, actually. Tristan shows up in Xander’s room, always through the second-floor window, always with a smile no matter how tired he looks. Xander gets used to keeping snacks in his dresser, extra blankets and a pillow in the top of his closet, and an old comic or two since most of the time Tristan never does manage to get to sleep anyway. Yet he’s always gone again the next morning when Xander wakes up to get ready for school.

When they do see each other during the day, Tristan normally avoids Xander except for in the ring where he has no choice. They only ever really talk when Tristan “comes to visit,” as he calls it. Xander begins to mind the intrusions less and less, and eventually, he even looks forward to finding his window open. As summer gives way to the first cool days of fall, when the other Knights try to make nasty comments about the fight Tristan’s parents had in the supermarket or the fact that he’s “half-Jap,” Xander finds himself telling them to shut up and mind their own business before he even realizes the words are coming out of his mouth. No one questions why, at least not out loud.

“Coach says that the McHale boy is more cooperative in training now.” Nicholas raises an eyebrow at his son. “Would that have anything to do with you?”

“I think he’s an asset, so I had a talk with Tristan, that’s all.” His father wouldn’t approve of the new friendship. It’s one thing to be a good leader, but becoming friends with Tristan, the son of the town drunk and his mail-order bride, that’s another thing entirely. Xander rinses off the plate he’s been washing and sets it in the drying rack. “I thought you wanted me to take initiative about things like that.”

Nicholas tucks his hands into his pockets, a tactic he uses often in his speeches. It gives him the appearance of a Good Ole Boy, with his flannel shirts and well-groomed beard. “I do, son, but be careful with that boy. His father…”

“Why doesn’t someone arrest him anyway? We all know what he does.” Xander looks up from washing dishes and catches the look of outrage on his father’s face before it’s masked behind polite indifference again.

“I had a talk with James last week. You know he’s an old friend of mine, Alexander. This is a small community, and issues like these have to be handled delicately.” Nicholas’ voice is all honey again, honey and sweet tea and a summer night.

Xander drops the cup he was washing back into the sink and turns off the water. “Well, maybe I don’t think you’re handling it correctly.” A collectively held breath hangs overhead, just like when the forest knows there’s a monster lurking, just like when Xander grips his sword in his hand and prepares himself for a fight.

Nicholas Smoak sets his jaw. “What did you just say to me?” The monster swipes its claws through the air, and Xander has to dodge or risk losing his head.

Normally Xander would never do this. His father’s word was always law, ever since he was a little kid, but now, now Xander knows Tristan. They’ve never talked about it, not really, but he knows why Tristan never takes off that blue jean jacket or why he disappears into the woods after practice instead of heading home. He knows why Tristan doesn’t like hurting people, even in practice. A great leader knows how to spot danger.

“You should arrest Mr. McHale, Dad. You’re letting him hurt his wife and son, and that’s wrong.” In his mind, Xander’s sword flashes in the kitchen light. The monster rears back, ready for another strike.

Nicholas strides across the kitchen floor, grabs his son by the arm, and leans in close, so close that Xander has to look away. “You listen to me, boy. Just because you think you know everything doesn’t mean that you can use that tone with me. I am not one of your buddies at school. I am your father, and I deserve your respect.” He releases Xander’s arm, but Xander can still feel the monster’s breath on his face. “Go to your room, and I don’t want to see you again until you get home from school tomorrow. Am I understood?”

Still looking at the floor, Xander replies, “Yes, sir,” and runs up to his room, a retreat he would normally never allow. The window is open, and Xander feels a rush of relief. Only, instead of honeysuckle and fresh rain and decaying leaves, the breeze blowing through the window carries the smell of blood.

#alexander smoak #tristan mchale #alexander the great #lumen

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