#once again giving a rousing speech

[doom-dreaming]

Halo 2 Anniversary - Objects In Mirror Are Larger Than They Appear

[fanaticsnail]

Struggling with insomniaaaaaaa do you think you could write an xReader where they help them with insomnia? Whichever character you'd like, I love anything you write ❤

I feel for you, my love. I also struggle to find rest, and who better to aid us in our sleep than the special clumsy man on his birthday week?

Close your eyes and breathe

Masterlist here

Synopsis: Struggling to find rest, you decide to take yourself to the kitchen in the marine base. You stumble upon your commander slouched over his desk and asleep on a pile of papers. Taking him to his quarters, he wants to help you find rest in slumber.

Themes: Rosinante x marine!reader, gn!reader, insomnia, friendship, comfort, fluff, smoking, undercover Rosinante, existing friendship, unspoken feelings.

Trudging through the cool hallway with grogginess laced in each heavy footfall, you had finally given up on finding solitude in the warm embrace of sleep. The arms of lady slumber had eluded you once again, and you had simply had enough of attempting to woo her.

It didn't matter what you did these days, there was nothing that aided you in your sleep. You had heard about powdered vitamins, eating a banana or drinking warm milk, running a mile before a scorching bath in the onsen. You had tried it all, and your body would refuse to hede the call of your mind and find rest at your request.

Finally reaching the mess hall on the marine base, you flick on the switch and notice a figure slouched over a pile of paperwork. Black feathers lay askew, his face pressed into the scattered parchment and smearing ink over his pale cheeks. Rosinante had fallen asleep at the table again, likely working too hard to get everything done before he was called away once again.

You scoffed to yourself, rolling your eyes and clicking your tongue at the image of his peacefulness in absolute discomfort. His lanky form folded itself beneath the table, his hair messy and askew, and his soft red hat flopped nonchalantly over his ashtray. With the whisper of the final ignition of his nicotine laced tobacco threatening to ignite him where he slumbered, you hastily stalked to his side to aid him.

Pressing your thumb on the filter end to reduce the cinders, the hiss of the cigarette under your pressure stifled the last of the flames. A low moan from the lanky man slouched on the table indicated the depths of his rest. You shook your head, choosing to aid your fellow marine in finding a true place to sleep in the barracks.

Rosinante returned to the base bi-monthly, often filling out detailed paperwork for Sengoku regarding the current plans Doflamingo had that was successfully sabotaged by the younger Donquixote brother. Courier bird, or word by snail, was too risky of late, this manner seemed to work well enough for all parties. Doflamingo thought it was therapy for speech to return to him, and Rosinante would be able to speak freely at the base. It was truly a win-win, a fool-proof alibi.

Until now.

You sucked in a deep breath, shaking the shoulder of the lanky marine to rouse him. He groaned, nuzzling into the desk and smearing the paper with his warm cheek squished against it. A dry, humorless laugh fled from your lips as you tried again to wake him.

"Rosinante," you murmur in a low warning, "Rosinante, wake up. You're asleep at the table again." He groaned, rolling his face and taking one of the papers with his cheek. You couldn't help but laugh at him, his peacefulness disturbed by his reports.

Inhaling a breath of determination, you lean down and hook your arm beneath his shoulders and elevate his bicep to curl over your shoulders. Bending at the knees, you use your strength to take the weight of the bigger form of your fellow marine. A soft murmur of your name flees his lips as he groggily awakens.

"Easy does it, commander," you inform him in his daze, "I'm taking you to the barracks." He whined at you, giving you his full weight as his legs fell heavy in every step.

"You don't have to do that, mi amor," he groaned, fully embracing you and caging you beneath his arms, "I need to do my reports anyway. I n-need-," he fully nuzzled into your neck and leaned on you, "-I need to go to bed. You're right, m'sorry." You shake your head and continue to balance his weight on your shoulders and hip.

Each step felt heavy in nature, his grogginess not helping with his clumsiness. You groaned as he tripped over his feet just as you made it to the door, your feet colliding with one another and both bodies slamming into the plaster wall.

"Could you be any more clumsy, commander?" you groaned at him, his own laugh huffed through his nose as he attempted to steady himself. Reaching for the handle, you open his door and usher him inside.

"What are you doing awake anyway?" Rosinante asked you, allowing you to guide him to his bed. You usher him to the mattress and place him clumsily on the bed. Collecting his coat and shoes, you lay him on his bed and draw up his covers to fall haphazardly up his chest.

"Can't sleep," you shrug, tucking the top sheet and duvet into his sides to snugly ensure his comfort. He hums at you, a tight-lipped and soft smile acting as gift to his gratuity. Nodding in response to your work in tucking him in, you begin to inch away from him to return to the mess hall.

"If that would be all, commander- oh!" You squeaked as two strong arms wrap around your chest and tug you into the bed beside him. The encumbering warmth from the larger man felt inviting, but the tension rose in static electricity to ignite every follicle on your skin.

"I've got a sleep trick for you," he growled into your neck, throwing the blankets over your body and drawing you closer, "Get comfy, you're not going anywhere." You huff in protest, attempting to wriggle out of his grip. "Oi, lie still. Now."

You growl in frustration, giving into the knowledge that your commander was not going to allow you to leave. "Aye, sir."

"Good little marine," he praised into your shoulder, a shudder coursing through you at the deep baritone in his voice, "Now shut your eyes and breathe."

"Oh really, Rosinante-?" You utter sarcastically, halting as he growled at you his commands.

"-Breathe slowly." You huffed your disagreement, wriggling back against the larger commander to make yourself comfortable. Rosinante had been your friend in basic, your comradery growing as your training became stronger in intensity. Sleeping beside one another in the field was not foreign to you, but in his bed? Another beast entirely.

"Close your eyes," he whispered into your neck, your breath hitching automatically in response, "You don't have to sleep. Know that. You don't have to do anything other than close your eyes and breathe with me." You nod softly, his smile felt against your hair as he enjoyed your movement in acknowledgement.

"Aye, sir," you offer with no maliciousness or sarcasm. He hummed deeply, drawing your body closer to him. With your back on his chest, his arm cradling his own head while his other caged you in closer, his hand sought your own out and laced fingers with you.

"Just relax into me," he whispered, nuzzling the crown of your head with his forehead, "Breathe with your eyes closed, and I'll be right here. I'm here, you're here, nothing else matters." You sigh deeply, enjoying his solidarity to keep you by his side.

"And if I don't sleep?" You ask him, prompting him to draw you in closer.

"I'll keep you close to me until you do," he whispered against the shell of your ear. You nod, offering him a last somber confession.

"And if I never do?"

He wriggled himself further up against you, caging you against his much larger body. Brushing his lips against your cheek, he nestled himself behind you and relaxed against you within his bed. His scent was all over the pillows, his cologne and stale cigarettes lingered in the fabrics beneath your head: a combination that felt comforting against your senses.

"I'll still be right behind you to whatever end, mi amor." His breathing grew heavy, his body overwhelmed by the sleep that had long since been denied to him. "Just close your eyes and breathe deeply. Stay with me until I let you go, to whatever end finds you."

Lying behind him, the arms of lady slumber lay just beyond your grasp. The heavy breathing and ultimate comfort found by the man behind you had your heart swell in empathetic bliss while he found his rest. If you did not find rest tonight, you found ultimate comfort in your friend and commander who held you within his protective embrace.

Rosinante's deep breathing felt blissful against you, the soft rumble in his snore almost cute amongst the sweet bugsong chirping in the reeds. You knew how hard he worked, and you knew how hard it was for him to feel fully relaxed enough to sleep blissfully these days.

Leaning into him, you flutter your eyes shut and mirror his breathing. Deep breath in, extended breath out; all with your eyes closed to follow his explicit instructions. Your actions mirrored his, the lullaby of his gentle snores calling to you in each soft wave.

Relaxing into his embrace, you finally ask lady slumber to welcome you into your arms once more, just as Rosinante welcomed you within his. You hoped she'd answer your call, but if she didn't, you found comfort in the knowledge that at least one of you both did.

Smiling to yourself, you felt Rosinante's embrace tighten around you as he clutched you further into himself. Holding his hand, you caressed his knuckles with your thumb before you finally felt the waves of sleep weigh you down and call you home in the arms of your favorite commander.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

*trying to understand WHY i feel like Vaggie would love having Susan around despite ppl hating her*

no see it's like this- there's a DIFFERENCE between someone like Susan and someone like Adam!!!

Susan, she's grumpy, stubborn, rude, insulting, BUT!!! If you give her a reason to think her criticisms weren't accurate or convince her she didn't have the full picture while making them, then she WILL change her mind!

She goes from booing Charlie's stammering speech to the Cannibals (and being all fuck you blue blood eat the rich which XD love it) pointing out how Charlie is NOT making anyone feel confident in her... but then once Charlie comes back with a rousing song, Susan listens. She chimes in just to clarify some things (if she fights for the hotel will she get to EAT PEOPLE) and once Charlie really gets into the whole fuck heaven it's time to fight back (lining up with Susan's eat the rich frame of mind) Susan switches around and NODS along with it! She changes her mind about Charlie! She follows Charlie back to the hotel and into war!

This old lady might be a piece of work but she's not an arrogant self-entitled one who won't give people a chance. She will let people try to convince her. She'll hear them out. She does change course once she feels she was wrong.

Compare THAT to an angel like Adam, who only listens so he can interrupt and laugh at Charlie. He's so convinced he CAN'T be wrong he'll scribble divine rules of getting into heaven on a sheet of paper on the fly and then act like they really ARE rules even though he clearly made them up on the spot- he submits them to court as EVIDENCE while IGNORING every other piece of contradicting evidence shown to him!

Adam isn't an asshole bc he's rude or mean, he's an ass bc he never thinks he might be wrong or should maybe change what he thinks or does. If it doesn't build him up then he won't listen to it. Arguing with him was useless- he wasn't ready to be convinced of anything he didn't already believe in.

So when Vaggie cheers for HIM dying, I think of Susan and how- to Vaggie- this old snarling cannibal lady would be like, the anti-Adam.

And the anti-Alastor too bc Susan glares and rudely lays out the truth as she knows it damn the consequences, instead of smiling while slipping lies by omission to ppl to get what she wants from them.

(a la Alastor in ep one trying turn helping out with the hotel advertisement into a favor, first by making a shitty one and then pressing Vaggie about not having anything better, until Vaggie points out that she KNOWs he'll get nothing out of the hotel if it fails anyway, meaning him helping it isn't some big gesture of trustworthiness it's literally just Alastor helping himself, dressed up to make Charlie and Vaggie feel grateful and indebted to him, which Vaggie at least has no patience for)

(add him not mentioning the dead angel thing until after he's gotten a deal with Charlie out of it, and of course miss hates-herself-Vaggie, who held back on her angel past for years to protect herself from more trauma would see too many similarities there)

(even tho one case was- as far as Vaggie can tell- a shameless power grab from Alastor taking advantage of Charlie being at her lowest, and the other was Vaggie being so ashamed of her past she couldn't stomach admitting to it)

Susan is NOT like that.

Sharp teeth is where her similarities with someone like Alastor ends. Surface level bluntness is also where her similarity with Vaggie might end too, for now

I look at Susan and see someone I think Vaggie wishes she could be.

Susan is someone who is honest. Someone who gives no fucks and isn't scared of being tossed aside (again) or being powerless

(like Vaggie and Alastor are scared)

Everyone in Cannibal town CRINGES when Susan shows up, no one looks or sounds HAPPY to see her or hear her speak up and does she seem to care? No. Do they all seem to also respect her and what she says...?

Yeah. They do. Susan is not talking out of her ass or being an ass. She's just sounding like one.

Vaggie miss "cut the crap" and "formerly an exorcist until she saw signs of how that might be wrong actually" would like having someone like that around, I think

(especially if it pissed off Alastor)

(Carmilla, who only keeps secrets to protect her family and seems to listen to advice even when she doesn't take it, would probably NOT like being challenged by a rude Susan either.... but Susan mainly just didn't want to blindly follow someone she didn't have confidence in, or fight without seeing what the reward for the risk would be. Carmilla would respect that, I think. Carmilla doesn't have time for bullshit either and also likes to cut right to the facts of a thing, as seen in her and Vaggie's meet up, so a Susan would be.... tolerable... in small doses. And worth having around. Occasionally)

(but only OCCASIONALLY, vaggie)

(charlie would probably also have to draw the line on ONLY inviting Susan over once a week or month or bi annually or so)

(it's a mental health issue and and a safety issue of Charlie not strangling Susan with her own dead fox boa when she gives an honest bad opinion of Vaggie's new wings or something)

(vaggie thinks it's hilarious)

(then again vaggie hates herself soooooo)

I headcanon Vaggie would love a Susan in her life but would need a Charlie around to balance it out~

GRANNY SUSAN! GRANNY SUSAN!!!!

[shenspeaker]

Circle of Sports Homebrew

Have been wanting to whip this up since last week's episode. I love the circle of sports. Used the circle of stars as a base, even though circle of spores is the more obvious typo lol. Enjoy!

 Druid: Circle of Sports

Since the first being aspired to test their might, hone their skill, and chase the thrill of victory, the power of sports has shaped the planes.

None understand this better than the druids of the Circle of Sports, students of the Plane of Sports. These druids have balled since time immemorial, dunking with primordials and discovering lost secrets in the ancient temples of gains. By honoring sportsmanship, competition, and the purity of the big man taking the rock all the way to the points hole, the Circle of Sports pursue teamwork, self-betterment, and a dynamic universe full of excitement and challenge.

Many druids of this circle keep records of the Great Games of the world, feats of strength and sportsmanship that ring forever in the legendary Hall of Fame at the heart of the Plane of Sports. They contend these records hold the spirits of those who came before, and can serve as markers, clues, and guides to what is possible. Shrines, gyms, trophies, trading cards, or artifacts signed by heroes long passed are both defended and sought after by these sages, scoundrels, and adventurers alike. Other druids seek to place their own names in the Hall of Fame and pave the way for heroes yet to come.

Sports Trance

When you join this circle at 2nd level you form a link to the Plane of Sports that grants you proficiency in Athletics and doubles your proficiency bonus for any check made using Athletics. If you already have proficiency in Athletics you may gain proficiency in a different skill of your choice.

Additionally, you learn to ascend your consciousness to the sequestered Plane of Sports and enter a sports trance. While in this trance your body becomes a Tiny sports-related object of your choice, with resistance to all damage, that can be used as a simple melee weapon that deals 1d8 bludgeoning damage and has the finesse, light, and thrown properties (range 20/60).

While in this state you are unconscious, but can be roused as if from sleep, ending the trance. You can complete a long rest in 4 hours, if you spend those hours in this trance.

Circle Spells

The pure energy from the Plane of Sports grants you access to some spells when you reach certain levels in this class, as shown on the Circle of Sports Spells table.

Once you gain access to one of these spells, you always have it prepared, and it doesn't count against the number of spells you can prepare each day. If you gain access to a spell that doesn't appear on the Druid Spell List, the spell is nonetheless a druid spell for you.

Druid Level - Spells

2nd - Compelled Duel, Catapult

3rd - Kinetic Jaunt, Spiritual Weapon

5th - Motivational Speech, Haste

7th - Freedom of Movement, Staggering Smite

9th - Conjure Volley, Greater Restoration

Sports Form

At 2nd level, you gain the ability to harness the power of sports to alter your form. As a bonus action, you can expend a use of your Wild Shape feature to take on a sports form, rather than transforming into a beast. Changing into a sports form ends any other active Wild Shapes.

While in your sports form, your clothes take on the appearance of appropriate sports attire, and appropriate sports-themed music plays. The form lasts for 10 minutes. It ends early if you dismiss it (no action required), are incapacitated, die, or use this feature again.

Whenever you assume your sports form, choose which of the following styles you embody; your choice gives you certain benefits while in the form:

Fastball. A series of sports-themed balls and projectiles appear in orbit around you. When you activate this style, and as a bonus action on your subsequent turns while it lasts, you can make a ranged spell attack, hurling a ball or other projectile that targets one creature within 60 feet of you. On a hit, the attack deals bludgeoning damage equal to 1d8 + your Wisdom modifier.

Nike. An incredible set of appropriate sports footwear appears on your feet. While in this style your walking speed increases by 15 feet. You gain a swimming and climbing speed of 30 feet. If you already have a swim and climb speed, you can instead increase that speed by 15 feet. When you jump, you may add twice your proficiency bonus in feet to the distance in any direction.

Roughhouse. Your muscles bulge and glisten as if oiled. In this style you can add your Wisdom bonus to Strength checks, Strength saving throws, and Constitution saving throws to maintain concentration. In this form you can make a grapple or shove attack as a bonus action.

Rally the Team

When you reach 6th level, you learn to channel the power of sports to your allies. As a bonus action, all creatures you choose within 30 feet may either gain 1d8 temporary hit points or immediately roll a save to end any continuous negative effect that could normally be negated with a successful saving throw. They must be able to hear or see you to gain this benefit.

You cannot use this ability again until you finish a short rest.

Welcome to the Jam

At 10th level, the styles of your Sports Form improve. The 1d8 of Fastball becomes 2d8. While Nike is active all opportunity attacks have disadvantage against you. While Roughhouse is active you can grapple or push creatures of any size without penalty.

Moreover, at the start of each of your turns while in your Sports Form, you can change which style you embody.

Hall of Fame

At 14th level, your connection to the plane of sports has become something of legend. While in your Sports Form, this legacy grants you a kind of immortality, giving you resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage.

[see-arcane]

Oof augh argh my heart

Once again @re-dracula is proving to be THE only Dracula adaptation to do this story and its characters justice

The horror-sting in discovering not only that Dracula is trying to erase his tracks, but that it now has a body count (RIP to his agent)

The exuberance of Mina in Isabel Adomakoh Young's voice as she marches head-on into connecting the vital dots to realize where Dracula is and how to track him--and the ultimate chokehold on her courage and love as she must ultimately part ways with Jonathan for the final rush of the chase

The lacing of audio-action under Van Helsing's dialogue as he dishes out his last group-rousing speech where they're all together

The sharper dramatic tone under Jonathan's words as Ben Galpin finally, finally gets to give full heart-tearing voice to that brief but electric rant at--with biting emphasis--Professor van Helsing--about the danger he means to drag Mina into unexcused and unexplained, hammering home the reminder of what all there is to worry for in the future...

On the heels of that, Galpin and the soundscape design managed to bring new ominous life into something I had previously only half-noticed before:

"Do as you will," said Jonathan, with a sob that shook him all over, "we are in the hands of God!"

[...]

My only comfort is that we are in the hands of God. Only for that faith it would be easier to die than to live, and so be quit of all the trouble.

I never thought of those lines being delivered with such a subtle but disquieting pitch of despair rather than hope. As if the speaker very much does have faith in God, but he only knows so from God's proven fallibility--and knows that same fickle Power is the one carelessly juggling all their fates.

And that ending handful of lines, delivered with such a quiet crushing weight of the eerie:

It is a wild adventure we are on. Here, as we are rushing along through the darkness, with the cold from the river seeming to rise up and strike us; with all the mysterious voices of the night around us, it all comes home. We seem to be drifting into unknown places and unknown ways; into a whole world of dark and dreadful things. Godalming is shutting the furnace door....

The way it's directed, the way it's voiced, the way it's all couched in the sort of cinematic beat of hush before the characters walk blindfolded into some fresh Hell, it all seems to turn over some mental stone in my head to reveal I've been walking past gold with each re-read of the novel.

Just

wow

Wow wow wow this podcast

It makes such a difference. There's so much more flavor and so many more facets in how Re: Dracula delivers the story beyond any mere audiobook, and worlds beyond any adaptation I've ever sat through. A million thank yous to the cast and crew.

Gonna go re-listen again

[true-blue-sonic]

How would you describe Silver's personality?

Let's see... There's a few aspects of Silver's personality that I think strongly characterise who he is as a person.

Silver is determined. He has a strong desire to protect the future, to the point where he's made multiple trips to the past to stop disasters from occurring there and ensure the safety of his own time in turn. Related to this, Silver has an optimistic attitude and generally doesn't lose hope easily, as conveyed in multiple bios such as his one from Generations. Notably, he shoots down Infinite's statements about how he'll show the rabble that "there is no hope" immediately, asking "Does anyone but you believe your lies?!". However, this is not infallible: in both Rivals 1 and 2 there's moments wherein Silver loses his hope ("No! I'm too late!" in Rivals 1 when Eggman Nega goes to space to take a picture of the whole planet; "It's too late. I knew there was way for me to change the future…" in Rivals 2 when the portal to the Ifrit's dimension opens despite his efforts). However, it also takes little for him to get this hope back again: the very instance there's the slightest indication things can turn around, he's back on it again. This is seen in both Rivals games and also '06, where Elise pointing out she feels Sonic's presence in the wind makes Silver give her a rousing speech with the idea she can use the Emeralds to bring Sonic back again.

Silver is sassy, rude, and blunt. In Colours DS, he's got a clear opinion on Eggman's Experience the Future ride that is conveyed in quite a sarcastic manner ("They think THAT is what the future is like? Please." and saying Sonic should give it a pass), and he similarly expresses rather abrasive statements about people who are not his allies. Notably, even Sonic remarked once that Silver is getting on his nerves (in Rivals 1). He mocks Sonic in '06 after their first battle ("Hmpf! Is this a joke? How could someone like you cause the destruction of our world?"), and immediately rudely regards Knuckles after getting the information he wants out of him in Rivals 1 ("Got no time to explain it to someone like you… See ya!" followed by "Like I said before, I don't have time to deal with you right now. See ya!"). In Forces, he bluntly tells Knuckles "Who cares what it's called?" about Operation Big Wave, stressing the fact that a good strategy is more important than a good name. Overall, Silver also has a temper: especially in the Rivals games, he quickly goes to throwing hands when someone expresses scepticism about his mission or makes fun of him as a person. It certainly doesn't seem like he is okay with letting people walk over him!

In an interesting contrast to the above point, Silver is also kind and cherishes his friends dearly. In '06, he puts his entire mission to defeat the Iblis Trigger on hold when deciding to help Amy find her person she was looking for first. I am not actually sure why he does so: I think the fact the past is so beautiful and the people are happy there helped inspire him to spread that kindness to the girl who's been kind to him in turn so far? But Silver clearly cares for his friends and allies: in '06, he is distraught by the fact he'll lose Blaze to save the world, he is similarly seen with a hurt expression when Sonic's alleged death is brought up in Forces, and in Rivals 2, he is genuinely grateful to Espio for the help Espio gave him in stopping the Ifrit from destroying the world.

Silver is honest, to the point of being blunt also... and this thus means that he is not always taken seriously. In a Sonic Channel story, he tells a group of Soleannan officials that he is from the future and gives that as reason why he knows calamity will befall a specific place in Soleanna; this is precisely why he is not believed. In Rivals 2, he is very clear about needing the Chao to save the world: Knuckles and Rouge promptly determine that this is something highly unlikely and that his psychic powers must have made Silver "a bit goofy", despite the fact Silver is entirely correct.

Silver is not always correct in his thinking, but it is difficult to change his mind. It also seems that once he gets encouragement that he is perchance doing the right thing, he goes right back to his earlier ideas: seen in '06 with Blaze's statements about what must be done to change the future, where it took an intervention by Shadow and a trip to the past to change Silver's mind about Sonic in full. However, Silver does show the ability to be introspective. After his fallout with Amy in '06, he is sitting quietly by himself, entirely unengaged with his mission to destroy the Iblis Trigger and instead wondering if hurting one person to help many others is "right". In Rivals 2 he is the one who figures that just endlessly fighting is actually against his goal of collecting Chao, and thus he turns that very goal around into a battle with Sonic wherein the victory conditions are to collect the most Chao. And in Colours DS, he is the one taking note of the fact it feels like he and Blaze have fought together before, after Sonic points out they were in perfect sync.

Silver seems to like fighting and has a bit of a Blood Knight mentality. In Generations, he expresses happiness at brawling with Sonic again in a rematch (stating that it should be fun), and in Colours DS he is intrigued to find out what the robots in Sonic's era can do (but unfortunately has to face Orbot and Cubot, making him lament that there was no challenge). Similarly, in the Triumph cutscene of mission 2-3 in Colours DS, he almost begins one-upping Blaze about how he could easily have handled the likes of Orbot and Cubot by himself, to Blaze's displeasure. He thus also seems confident in his own abilities, helped by the fact his powers are tremendously strong and can do amazing feats.

Silver is sharp and takes note of small, almost insignificant details to come to correct conclusions. In Rivals 1, he notices "Eggman" is actually Eggman Nega due to his speech and mannerisms, as well as a small slip of Nega about how there'd be nobody to stand in his way in the past and future. He is also only shown as gullible in '06: in Generations, he originally fights Sonic because he's not sure if the real deal is asking him for the Chaos Emerald (thus not blindly trusting that someone who looks like Sonic actually is Sonic), and in Team Sonic Racing he is right on top of Eggman's plans with the Ultimate Energy Engine. In Rivals 2, he immediately determines at the first appearance of "Eggman" that it is actually Eggman Nega trying to pull the same trick as before, where he is shown to be correct as well.

This got very long, and I am certain I am missing some (or perhaps even many) things. I've written multiple posts about parts of Silver's personality before, but leave it to Tumblr to not return those to me, haha. But I think these are some of the most important aspects of Silver's personality! Lastly, there's also some things that are not explicitly stated but that I think do fit his personality well:

Silver appreciates the small things, things that other people might not notice so easily. His favourite thing is noted to be the blue sky in the Mario & Sonic games which is also shown with him stating that "the sky [of the past] is gorgeous" in '06, he marvels at the desert area of that game (that Amy notably shows more disregard for, asking him "What? You mean this desert?"), and he is multiple times noted to have awareness of the happiness of a whole world: the above quote is followed with "and everyone's happy", and in Colours DS he says "The sky is blue, and everyone's got a smile". A blue sky and the fact the people of the world all have a smile are not extremely noteworthy things, but they're clearly important enough for Silver to mention them both in two games.

Silver doesn't care much about what others think of him. The only time I can recall wherein he reacted crabby to someone poking fun at him is in Rivals 2, where Knuckles calls him crazy for thinking the Chao will be necessary to stop the world from being destroyed (here Silver's response is "I'll show you how crazy I am"). What he is doing furthermore also directly relates to him wanting to save the world, which could explain his annoyance at Knuckles not believing him. The only time wherein Silver has gotten anything akin to flustered in the games is, at the top of my head, '06 wherein Amy gets the jump on him and doesn't let him get a word inbetween her spiel before she drags him off to go find Sonic.

[bambiraptorx]

Okay, since there was some interest in seeing this short story, here it is. The working title is Foot Quest but I might change that lmao

— — —

The Dragon cracked open an eye at the distant sound of footsteps echoing faintly down the halls of its cavern.  A group of several people, accompanied by hearty squabbling and crass insults.  Hm, it hadn’t had visitors in quite some time.  Perhaps these ones would be entertaining before being eaten.

It closed its eye and curled deeper into its golden hoard.  It would find out soon enough.

— — —

Another sound roused it shortly after, the sliding click of coins and jewels being displayed. Whether from a not-so-sly attempt to pocket a few of its gold pieces or to scale its prodigious hoard, the Dragon did not care.  It cracked open a different eye.  It was always better to observe one’s meal a bit before consumption, after all.

The figure below (rather far away, at nearly the bottom of its hoard) appeared to have sat down for a moment, possibly on one of the treasure chests that stayed down there.  The wooden boxes were always a bit too odd and lump-like to do anything other than inhibit quality rest.  From the Dragon’s best guess, it was likely a human.  No beard, ears too small to be one of its cave goblins, and none of that insufferable stench elves carried with them wherever they went. That made it edible.

The biped shifted a bit, then jumped off the chest completely, flourishing what appeared to be a tiny dagger.  It was too far away to truly tell.  In any case, they seemed to realize rather quickly how ineffective their speck of a blade would be, and lowered it shamefacedly.

“... …. ……. ..?” What was that?  The Dragon tilted its head at the human’s distant mouth sounds.  Given that such things were distinctly less worthy of its attention than sounds like footfalls or clicking gold pieces tended to be, it wasn’t used to attending to such tongues.  How did human speech go again?  It hadn’t tested its vocal cords in some time.  

“Ahem.  Speak louder, puny thing.”  It freed an arm from its bed, glittering jewels cascading down the hills of hoard.  Pity, it would have to pick those up later.  Preferably after a snack.

The human took a step back.  Then raised their hands to their face, cupping them around their mouth.  “I apologize for the intrusion!”

Not the typical first words of a prospective breakfast.  “Do those companions of yours offer the same?”

The biped made some small motion with a hand.  “I think the goblins got to them!”

Well, good.  That was what the Dragon kept them around for.  Cleaning out the tunnels.

“You realize you shan’t leave, morsel.”  The Dragon flicked a few eyes open and shut, blinking away the sleep-grime.  “Intruders are only welcome if they become… long-term guests.”

A rather clever way to put it, if it said so itself, but if the human agreed they were unfortunately too far away for it to tell.  Instead of answering, the two-legged thing displayed a tremendous amount of stupidity by beginning to climb up the steep slopes of the hoard, even daring to come closer to the side with the Dragon’s head clearly visible.  A deliciously foolish endeavor.

The human stopped once more over a small rise in the glittery piles, still rather far for the Dragon to reach unless it really stood up and stretched its neck out to catch them.  Perhaps not so unintelligent after all?  “There!  Can you hear me better now?” 

The Dragon stretched for a moment, the gold covering it slowly giving way to its limbs.  Ugh, this was a most encumbering way to have fallen asleep.  “You must be exceptionally stupid or desperate to approach me.”  Evidence pointed to the latter, but of course the former would be the tastier option.

Their face moved strangely, an awkward display of baring small, flat teeth.  “Oh, I just came to ask a question.  Care to share a small amount of your wealth with a humble orphan?” “Not a chance.”

“...perhaps a loan?” “Mm… no.  Loans are for goblins only, which you clearly are not.”  The Dragon shook its head, shiny objects spinning away with loud crashes as they tumbled downwards and smacked against things.  Its neck was that much more mobile with the gold around it lessened.

“And at any rate, little thing, you’ve interrupted my sleep.  And so—” it worked the other forelimb free, its tail almost there—“You are to be my dinner, as is the way of things.”  Unless they did something worth its attention, but it was rapidly growing bored.

“Wait wait wait, please, I beg you, don't—your arm,” the human babbled.  “Leg.  Limb?”

It spared a glance for its stump, the limb most likely visible from the human's current location.  “Yes, that.  Staring is not appreciated, insect.”  The last human to make it this far had said something annoyingly rude, and had needed to be eaten immediately as a result.  A pity, wizards never tasted too good.  All the thick wooly robes got caught in its teeth.

“No, I mean—” quite unexpectedly, the human sat down again, this time on a rise in the piles of gold, and did something to one of their lower limbs that appeared to involve undoing numerous straps, then held the limb out towards the Dragon. 

…It didn’t know the smaller races could do that.  It had never paid them much attention, to be sure, but weren't their limbs supposed to stay attached to their bodies?

“Here, my prosthesis.  I lost the leg as a girl, it was some sickness the local apothecary couldn’t cure.  Better limb than life, I think she said.  And a while after that, I got another one to help me walk, but I’m still—we’ve got that in common.” the human explained breathlessly.

The Dragon lowered its head (interesting, how this ant-like creature barely flinched at its approach) and turned a set of eyes towards the thing.  A facsimile of a leg, carved of wood with fabric and that cow-skin two-leggers were so fond of hanging off in thinnish bits and pieces.  It even had a shoe to match the other one the biped wore.

It huffed, a gentle stream of smoke escaping its jaws to envelop the small figure.  “Mildly interesting, I suppose.  But why should I care?”

“The people outside haven’t seen you in over a century. It would do them well to remember your presence here,” the human said.  Some small expression, too quick for the Dragon to read, crossed her face.  “And… I know what it’s like.  Losing a limb, figuring out how to live afterwards.  Besides, the gnomish craft cities aren’t too far from here, and you know they love a challenge.  You’ve got plenty of gold to spare, and they’d think it an honor to craft something for you.”

The Dragon reared its head back.  “I have no need of gnome workmanship, you little asp.  I am a great thing, powerful and fearsome!  There is nothing here that needs to be fixed!”  Its wings were yet buried, or it would have beat them dramatically for emphasis.  Perhaps the brat was back on the menu.

“Please, it’s—it’s not—it wouldn’t be for fixing!” The human yelled, her hands lifted to shield her face.  “It would be a tool!  To make things easier!”

It stared down its nose at her.  “And why should I bother with such a… tool?”

“You don’t have to,” came the answer.  “Lots of people don’t.  But I know the merchants from here to Ocean’s Crest, I know the metalsmiths and leather workers and tailors, and there’s dozens of ways that a leg can be built.  And look, I can tell you it won’t fix things all the way.  It might create other problems.  But I can tell you this much—it works for me.  And it might be able to work for you?”

The human held her hands outstretched above her head, a gesture something like a plea.  For mercy, perhaps, or more time, or some other petty human desire. If the Dragon was already awake, it might as well move around a bit.

The Dragon blinked three eyes at once, snorted and began to stand, gold slithering over its scales as it shook itself free of its hoard.  “You have piqued my interest, ant.  I shall embark with you on this journey of yours.  Now put back those coins you have in your pocket.”

[blueraineshadows]

Brothers Part 12

Garreth Weasley 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Oscar Weasley

A love rivalry between two Weasley brothers. Oscar is an OC created by @eternalremorse and used with her permission.

🔞 NSFW series. Chapter Master List.

Chapter Twelve - Birthday Boy

A cheer erupted from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and MC looked up from her bowl of porridge to see Garreth arriving, his cheeks flushing pink as he grinned at his fellow housemates. A few party popping crackers were let loose and confetti sprayed upwards, fluttering down over Garreth as his friends all began to sing Happy Birthday to him.

MC smiled as she watched, chuckling as he made a little bow once the song had ended. Gifts and hugs were thrust upon him as he tried to take a seat, and then there was a rousing call for him to give a speech. After all, it wasn't every day that a young wizard came of age.

"Oh, I would just die of embarrassment if you made me do this," Poppy giggled as she craned her neck to get a better look. "The whole school is watching him! Poor Garreth."

It was nice to have her friend sitting with her at the table for a change. More often these days, Poppy sat with Sebastian, which was understandable, but MC missed her being there beside her.

"Poor Garreth?" MC scoffed as she watched him climb up onto the bench so he could stand above everyone else, his arms held out wide as he grinned. She smirked. "He's loving every minute of this. Look at him."

"Ladies and gentlemen, students and professors," Garreth began, with a nod towards the faculty table. Professor Black looked like he had just swallowed a live Billywig, and Sharp appeared to be getting ready to hold his head in his hands. "I would just like to take the opportunity to thank you all for your kind wishes on this most joyous of days, although being woken up with exploding snappers being thrown onto my bed was not how I expected my day to begin."

A rumble of laughter sounded from the Quidditch lads, and Garreth gave them a rather sarcastic round of applause.

"At least you had your pants on this time, Weasley!" Leander called.

More laughter erupted, and Professor Black was on his feet, a rather red-faced Professor Weasley trying to reassure him as she, too, got to her feet. MC and Poppy exchanged a glance before chuckling themselves, MC trying not to picture what that scene might look like or how fluffy and messy Garreth's hair would look when he woke up. She cleared her throat and stirred her porridge aimlessly as Garreth continued his speech.

"Seeing as it's my birthday, and I am now officially an adult, I want to take the opportunity to invite you lovely lot to the Three Broomsticks this evening for some good old-fashioned fun. All in good taste, of course."

He hastily added that last part with a wink as he saw his aunt hurrying down off the dais towards him. Hands grabbed at him to get him down, and he almost toppled in his haste to perform a courtly bow with extra flourish as Professor Weasley began to scold him. The cheer that erupted was deafening as he jumped down, and MC shook her head and laughed.

"You are going tonight, aren't you?" Poppy asked.

"Of course," MC said, returning to her porridge. "Garreth would never forgive me if I didn't. Besides, I've spent the best part of the last few days helping him and Sebastian prepare those special brews. I want to have fun sampling them, too."

Poppy grinned and clapped her hands together. "Oh, it's so exciting, and I am so glad to see you getting out and having fun. I was worried you might not go, you know, because of Oscar..."

MC's smile slipped a little as her gaze returned to the Gryffindor table, her eyes seeking out a different head of red hair. Yes. Oscar.

He was laughing with his friends as they continued to lavish attention on the birthday boy, looking as handsome as ever, and her chest tightened. She had been avoiding him, holding off the inevitable time when they would have to face each other properly again. She knew it had been the right choice to leave him, but that didn't mean it was easy.

Oscar's head turned, and his lovely blue eyes met hers. Their gazes locked for a moment, a flicker of sadness and longing in his that made the tightness in her chest increase. She felt her cheeks warm, remembering softer moments shared with him, but they were over now. She managed a small smile, polite and maybe a little sad, too. Then, she dropped her gaze, not wanting to prolong eye contact.

It was the most interaction they'd had since she had ended things, and she knew it would be impossible to avoid him at the party later. She didn't want to make things awkward, nor did she want to fall out with him. She had needed the space apart, but would it hurt to be friends? Would he want that?

Finishing up her breakfast, she got to her feet with the intention of getting some library time before her first class of the day. As she passed by the Gryffindor table, a hand shot out to grab her arm, she halted and looked down into twinkling, green eyes. Garreth’s smile filled his face, and she couldn't help but return it.

"Happy Birthday!" She said, her smile turning into a laugh. "Great speech, by the way."

"Why, thank you!" He got to his feet, arms spread open, fingers gesturing for her to get closer. "Come on, where's my birthday hug? You're not escaping out of here before giving me one."

MC stared at him, lips parting. It was just a hug, nothing to get all worked up about, they had hugged before. And yet, her cheeks warmed as she stepped forward into his arms, her hands gripping lightly at his back as he enveloped her in warmth and a tight squeeze.

He rocked them slightly, his scent filling her nose, her body far too aware of being pressed against him, especially in front of the whole school. It didn’t make her panic, though, or feel the urge to pull away. If anything, she wanted to lean into it more, burying her face into the warm, inviting crook of his neck and soaking up the safety she knew she would find there. Instinctively, her fingers gripped the back of his robe a little tighter, subtly squeezing him back.

He made a humming sound of content and then pulled back, a wide grin on his face, their eyes meeting with softness. "Best birthday hug so far."

"So far? Are you planning on receiving many more, then?"

"What can I say? I love a cuddle, and today is the perfect excuse to indulge in some," he said.

Evidently, as his arms were still loosely around her. It was very difficult to not be caught up in their effortless warmth. Ever since the moment they had shared with the Thestral in the forest, there had been an even stronger closeness between them. It was unspoken, but definitely there.

Realising their embrace had probably lingered for too long had her eyes straying over Garreth’s shoulder to where the Quidditch boys were sitting at the table. Oscar was watching them with those lovely, blue eyes of his. Only they weren't sparkling with his usual good humour and charm. They were sad and dull, narrowed as he watched them. MC became all too aware of how closely she was standing with Garreth, and despite her and Oscar parting ways, guilt still pulled at her.

MC cleared her throat and slipped out from Garreth's arms, giving them a little squeeze before she stepped back, smile fixed in place.

"Can I come and find you later before the party?” She asked, wanting to give him his gift in privacy.

"Of course!” He beamed. “I will be collecting the party brews later this afternoon after classes. You know where to find me.”

Indeed, she did.

....*....

The common room was cosy with a roaring fire, and students were milling about. Oscar rubbed his hands together, warming them up after walking back from the beast enclosures. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, but he had enjoyed being outside with the animals. There was something very enjoyable about spending time there lately, and he had found himself returning often.

As he passed by the fireplace, he caught sight of Garreth perched in his favourite spot, his journal open, and his head bent forward as he wrote in it. Beside him sat a box of Honeydukes sweets, no doubt a gift, and Oscar's lips twitched with a smile. He remembered many birthdays before this one where Garreth would get so excited to see boxes of sweets waiting for him.

Before they came to Hogwarts, Garreth would leap from his bed on his birthday, not even pausing to pull socks onto his feet against the freezing cold, before bounding down the stairs to see what waited for him on their scrubbed kitchen table.

Garreth always found the joy in life. Their family were by no means well off, unlike other pure bloods. They were simple farmers with a modest home. While gifts were more practical or homemade, Garreth found them pleasing enough, his eyes lighting up and his smile wide as he hugged his thanks. Even now, a proper adult as of today, Garreth accepted the love and attention bestowed upon him with smiling eyes and returned every hug and best wishes with enthusiasm.

Oscar paused to study his brother for a moment, a man now, his shoulders widened, and his legs long. His freckled hands blessed with long, graceful fingers, his normally rounded cheeks slimming down into chiselled, handsome lines that made girls turn to look. He had never thought to envy his younger brother before. But today he did. He envied his jovial outlook, his ability to look on the bright side. He envied the light-hearted outlook he had with no pressure on his shoulders to be the best. He was grateful for his lot, warm and generous, with a heart so big he had room for anyone who was willing to share it.

No wonder MC looked at him the way she did.

Oscar swallowed down the disappointment, still trying to come to terms with the loss of MC, and it wasn't helped when he witnessed moments such as this morning in the Great Hall. Garreth had received hugs from fellow students, but none had lingered as long as the time MC was in his arms. Their eyes had only been for each other, their smiles lit with the same soft warmth.

Oscar had noticed she could barely look at him, and it felt like a punch to the gut. He missed her.

Attempting to push those thoughts to one side, he moved around to lean over the back of the settee, reaching to ruffle his brother's soft locks and he got the familiar slap to the hand. He grinned at twinkling green eyes.

"How's the birthday going, brother? Are you all ready for tonight?"

"Absolutely! The brews are ready if you want to make a purchase before we head out," Garreth said, closing his journal and pocketing his pencil. “I'm going to fetch them shortly.”

"Purchase? But, I'm family! Surely, I qualify for a freebie."

Garreth chuckled and shook his head. "Business is business, Oscar. Seb and I worked our socks off to get those brews ready. We expect to turn a profit tonight, and we won't do that by giving them away for free, family, or not."

Oscar eyed Garreth as he stood, pondering over this underground potion business he had on the go. Instead of complaining about their family’s lack of gold, or just going without as they had often been forced to do growing up, Garreth was taking matters into his own hands and trying to find his own way. Oscar wasn't sure he liked the idea of him doing it with that smug Slytherin, Sallow, but he was proud of Garreth nonetheless.

"Carry on like this, brother, and you'll be putting old Pippin out of a job," he said.

Garreth came around the settee to stand with him, a little smirk on his lips. He gave Oscar a wink. "Maybe that's the grand plan."

Oscar chuckled and put his arm around his shoulders as they headed for the dormitory stairs. If it was his grand plan, he didn't doubt him. He was sure Garreth could achieve whatever he put his mind to, and Oscar would support him in any way he could. What else were big brothers for?

....*....

With two varieties of alcohol punch brews on offer, Garreth was feeling rather pleased with their efforts as he and Sebastian finished off filling the potion bottles and putting them in little crates. The profit to be gained if they sold them all would be worth the hours spent.

The cheeky grin he shared with Sebastian as they looked at their hard work was worth it, too. Despite the grumbles from Oscar and Leander, Garreth appreciated the friendship he had developed with Sebastian and wasn’t about to give it up.

"This has actually been rather fun making these," Garreth said. He gave his Slytherin friend a pat on the back. "I appreciate all your help, mate."

Sebastian smiled and rubbed his hands together. "I've had fun too, if you must know. I wouldn't be opposed to doing this more often, especially if we cash in. I've got some ideas on some other potions we could offer if you fancy it."

"Sounds good to me," Garreth nodded. "Let's get these stowed away safely ready for later, an enlarged pocket charm should do the trick. We can take some each and sell them quietly. Best not upset Sirona after she has generously allowed us to take over the Broomsticks this evening."

The rarely used bathroom continued to be their brewing hiding spot, but if they were going to do this long term, they would probably need to find a better place of operations. Garreth was thinking over some options when the bathroom door opened, and they both turned to see who had entered, their eyes wide with panic at the prospect of being caught.

It was MC, her smiling face a most welcome sight as she closed the door behind her. She had a parcel under her arm, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a green ribbon, that she held up with a twinkle in her eye.

"Hello, gentlemen. I have a special delivery for the birthday boy," she said, coming closer towards them and eyeing the little crates. "Oh, these look good. Are you all done? I was going to offer my help."

"Yep, all done," Sebastian said, fluffing the hair on the back of his head. He looked between her and Garreth and smiled. "In fact, I might leave you to chat and get going seeing as we're done here. I have some other errands to run before dinner."

Garreth caught the cheeky wink Sebastian flashed at him before he headed for the door and felt his cheeks warm as he realised that Sebastian probably didn't have any errands at all, he was merely giving him a moment alone with MC.

As the door swung shut behind Sebastian, Garreth turned his gaze to her, his tummy fluttering. She was looking lovely, her hair partly pinned back from her face with soft strands framing her pink cheeks. She held up the little parcel towards him with a shy smile.

"This is for you," she said. "I wanted to give it to you before everything got all crazy with the party."

"You didn't have to do this," he said, taking the parcel from her with a pleased smile. "My lovely hug this morning was like a gift in itself."

Nevertheless, he tugged at the green ribbon excitedly and slid it free before tearing open the brown paper to reveal a leather bound book. The cover was soft and supple beneath his fingers, the leather of fine quality. Opening the book revealed smooth, blank parchment pages, and he looked up at her in surprise.

“It’s a new journal,” she said, biting her lower lip nervously. “I noticed how quickly you were filling your current one up, and I thought I would get you a new one for all these new potion ideas you keep having.”

He looked down at the journal again, his heart swelling. She had noticed such a thing and acted on it. Something that was so very personal to him, and she cared enough to respect and encourage it. He closed the book with a soft thump, his fingers smoothing over the soft brown leather. Then, a gasp left his lips at the monogram imprinted into the corner of the leather, his own initials - G.W.

“You put my name on it,” he said softly, tracing his initials with a fingertip.

She smiled, her cheeks pink as she nodded, and then she stepped forward to flip open the front cover. “I also wrote on the inside, I hope you don’t mind.”

“For Garreth, on your seventeenth birthday. You may have come of age, but don’t stop dreaming. I believe in you. Happy Birthday, love from MC xx”

Garreth read over the words a few times and actually felt his throat tighten up at the sentiment. She believed in him, and not only that, she had written the words inside his new journal where he could see them every day. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words would form. He took a breath and rubbed his fingertips against his forehead as he tried to get a grip on the emotions swelling in his chest. How could one person make you feel so much?

“Is it alright? Was it too much?” She touched her fingers to her lips, her eyes worried as she looked at him. “You can remove my words if so…”

He met her gaze, eyes actually stinging a bit, and he blinked back the dumb tears as he pressed the journal to his chest.

“I love… it, I love it,” he said thickly, almost spilling out the truth of what was hidden in his heart.

He loved her. He loved her for being so warm, so thoughtful, for being the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and sticking by him. There were so many reasons he could list as to why he felt her in every beat of his heart, but right now, he loved her for believing in him and putting that statement down in ink.

At her little sigh of relief, he pulled her in close, crushing her to him in a bone squeezing hug that still didn’t convey the mass of feelings in his chest. The journal was gripped firmly in one hand, his other hand had found its way into her hair, the locks soft as they spilled through his fingers. He buried his face into it, breathing her in as he held her tightly, their bodies pressed so close he could feel the soft curves of her breasts crushed against him. He heard her soft gasp, felt her hands grip his robe as she hugged him back, his face nuzzling close to her ear. He closed his eyes, suspended in time as he held her, not wanting to let go.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he whispered, his breath teasing at the hair around her ear. “This hug beats all other hugs today, including your one from this morning.”

She shivered, her hands clutching at him more tightly, her breath a soft rasp near his own ear. He wasn’t sure, but had she whispered his name? His blood seemed to sparkle and fizz at the thought. Holding her was feeding the addiction, he couldn't get enough and always, always he wanted more.

His fingers pushed deeper into her hair, the tips grazing against her scalp as his lips pressed to the delicate shell of her ear. Emboldened by the fact that she wasn’t pulling away, he pressed further kisses over her ear until they found the delicate skin underneath. She was trembling, the fresh scent of apples filling his nose as he savoured her softness under his lips.

Breathing a little faster now, his lips moved to her jaw and the soft curve of her cheek before pressing slowly and softly near the corner of her mouth. It was bold, his heart racing, but he just couldn't stop himself.

“Garreth…”

He heard her properly that time, her breath hot against his face as she breathed just as hard as he did, her hand had cupped his face and her lovely eyes burned so close to his that there was no way he could stop himself before his mouth claimed hers.

The soft press of his lips was met with an eager press of her own, the kiss lingering with an aching need that had him seeking for more. Kissing her again and again, starved and hungry for that sweet softness he had been craving for so long. Daring to swipe his tongue against her lower lip was so worth it when he was rewarded with her soft moan, her lips parting to welcome him and he didn’t hesitate before sliding his tongue into her mouth with a moan of his own.

Her response was almost overwhelming after waiting so long to experience this kind of intimacy with her, their bodies couldn’t be any closer and she clung to him, their kiss deepening further until there was nothing else but her. So lost in the feel and taste, Garreth didn’t realise that they were moving until they hit the wall with a thud, MC pressed up against it as his hips pinned her tightly.

He didn’t want to stop, his body was aflame with want for her, but he paused, pressing his forehead against hers as they both tried to catch their breaths. His thumb traced her cheek, sliding down and over her lower lip that was damp and swollen from his kiss.

“Wow…” he whispered. “That was… I could do that forever.”

Her eyes were glazed with a fire that called to him as her lips curved into the sweetest smile. It made his ache sharpen, and he pressed another kiss to those soft lips, already craving more. Her eyes closed, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks as he nibbled at her lower lip, but as she opened her eyes, he could see the hesitation. That fiery haze was clearing, and he knew what she was going to say. He pulled back, fighting the disappointment that was about to sweep over him as he nodded.

“Garreth, I…”

“It’s alright,” he said, seeking out her hand and holding it firmly in his grasp, bringing it up against his chest where his heart thumped a maddening beat. “I know, it’s too soon. I understand.”

“I’ve already hurt him once,” she said with a wince. She shook her head regretfully. “I can’t stomp on him further. It’s not fair. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, cupping her face again, swallowing down his disappointment. “I understand. Oscar is my brother, I don’t want to hurt him either. I lost control of myself. It’s me that should be apologising.”

“No,” she whispered, her fingers tracing over his cheek. Her touch was feather-light as she explored the shape of his face, trailing over his eyebrows and nose, her thumb brushing over his lips as she followed the movements with her eyes. “Don’t ever apologise for kissing me like that, Garreth. I could never regret such a thing…”

He stared at her, holding his breath. “What does that mean?”

“It means that this is everything I knew it would be, but we have to wait,” she said, biting her lip. She met his gaze, her eyes searching for understanding. “We can’t hurt Oscar. Let’s just give it some time.”

This was all sensible talk, of course, but he wasn’t sure he had the patience for it. Especially now he knew what it was like to kiss her and hold her like this. She didn't regret it, she wanted it too. The urge to jump and cheer was so vivid it almost brought tears to his eyes.

His joy would be his brother's pain, though. She was right. The thought of stopping was unbearable, unthinkable.

What if they didn't have to stop?

“We could be discreet,” he said hopefully, a smile lifting his lips. His eyes twinkled at the idea, his fingers sliding up into her hair again to cup her head. “When we are alone, we can be like this. We can keep it our little secret for a while. What do you think?”

To have her in his arms like this and face the prospect of giving it up tightened his chest. He held her closer, begging with his eyes and gentle strokes in her hair. This is what he wanted. It was everything. It would be the best birthday ever if she agreed to be his.

He could see the cogs turning in her mind as she thought about it, a war raging behind her eyes that he wanted to win. Of course, he loved his brother, and hurting him would be the last thing he would want to do.

But this was her.

He had wanted her for so long, and Oscar knew it. He wouldn’t have told him to stay away from her if he didn’t. Was it so wrong to want to win for once? Oscar always came out a winner. When would it be his turn?

“Can I try and convince you?” He grinned. He bent to press a kiss to her lips, trailing his mouth to her jaw and savouring the soft gasp she made as he pressed teasing kisses to her throat, his tongue sliding against her skin in a daring taste. The soft sound she made as he gently sucked her neck was everything.

“You don’t need to convince me,” she said, her voice a little breathless as she guided his face back to hers. “But this is what I mean about having self-control around other people. If I say yes to you, and we do this, we can’t touch each other in public. Nobody can know about this…”

She groaned and put her hands to her face. “Oh, Garreth, we would be lying to everyone! Can we really do that?”

“It’s not lying,” he said, gently removing her hands from her face. “Not really. We’re just keeping it for ourselves for a while. A special secret just for us. But, if you really don’t feel comfortable with it, then we don’t have to. I would never make you do anything you didn’t want to do, MC. No matter how much I want to be able to kiss you. I’ve waited this long, I can wait for a while more.”

“How long have you been waiting?” She asked, her voice almost a whisper.

He felt his cheeks warm, his gaze flicking down to where his hand was still holding hers before lifting back to meet her eyes. “Since you asked if I could write to you over the summer break,” he admitted.

He had been delighted when she had slipped him her address, even if it did mean he had to commit to actually writing letters, he didn’t mind doing it for her. Every letter she had sent he had saved, they were all in a large envelope that he kept safe, returning to them every now and then to read over what she had written. Along with all the mentions of her in his journal, he’d never written so much about a single person before.

So much of her was threaded through his existence. His writing, his art, and his everyday thoughts were all circled around her. Even the air he breathed needed to carry the scent of her these days.

“I kept all of your letters, you know,” she said. “Every single one I saved. My favourite is the one with the hummingbird drawing at the bottom. It’s so beautiful.”

His lips curved into a shy smile. “Well, they are beautiful birds. Small and mighty, a bit like you.”

“Oh, Garreth,” she said, shaking her head, a fond smile on her lips. She kissed him again, a soft brush of lips. She stayed really close, their noses almost touching as she met his gaze. “Do you think you can keep our secret during the party tonight?”

“So, that’s a yes? We’re really doing this?” He asked, eyes lighting up.

She nodded, smiling. “We’re really doing this.”

He made a whooping sound of delight, giving in to his joy, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist to lift her clean off her feet and swing her around. She laughed, her arms finding their way around his neck, the feeling that she was right where she belonged strong in his heart.

….*....

“You are looking rather cheerful this evening, MC,” Poppy said as she smoothed her hand over her dress and smiled at her own reflection in the looking glass of the ladies' toilets. She threw MC a curious glance. “What’s put you in such a good mood?”

MC’s smile was secretive, the warmth in her eyes fed by the glow that was desperate to burst out of her chest. She touched her fingers to her lips, still thinking about Garreth’s kiss from earlier, and couldn’t help the wider smile that lifted her lips. It was so tempting to admit the truth and tell Poppy what had happened in the bathroom earlier, but she held back. Her and Garreth had promised to keep it their secret for now, and there was something very special about it being just for them.

“I’m just enjoying the evening,” she said, adjusting her blouse. “It’s time to move on.”

“Oh, does that mean you are going to dust off the top five list? Who will be next for a kiss?” Poppy giggled, her eyes narrowing with interest.

MC’s blush was dark, and she waved Poppy off. “Don’t start with that nonsense,” she scoffed. “I thought you would have forgotten all about that now you have Sebastian.”

Poppy gave a little sigh, her mouth twisting thoughtfully. “Maybe. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Seb is lovely,” she said carefully. “But, I’m not sure if it’s really anything long term.”

MC gaped at her. “But… Poppy, you slept with him!”

“I know, and it was so good. I don’t regret Seb being the first at all,” she said, her cheeks flushing a bit. Then she shrugged, her face turning regretful. “I just don’t see him being the last. Something just doesn’t feel right, and I think he knows it, too. Please, don't be angry. I wasn't sure how to tell you.”

A wave of sadness washed over MC. Her two best friends together seemed like the ideal situation, but the thought of them not being happy was the last thing she expected to hear. She stared at Poppy, thinking over the bright eyes and flushed glow she had been sporting lately and wondered what had gone wrong. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been so hard to imagine, especially after the way things had ended up for her and Oscar.

It was hard not to have the initial instinct to defend Sebastian. He had been hurt enough, and she didn’t want to see it happen again. Looking at Poppy, a girl who had been her first close female friend, she wondered if she would be able to choose a side if it came down to that. She could only hope that Poppy was right in her assumption that Sebastian felt the same way.

“I'm not angry, Poppy,” she said, placing her hand gently on her arm. “But, you need to talk to him. The longer you leave it, the harder it gets. Trust me.”

“I do plan to speak with him,” she said. “But not tonight, and don’t you say anything to him, either. I know how close you two are.”

“I won't say anything, I don’t want to get in the middle of it,” MC said firmly. She had enough problems of her own without getting tangled up in theirs. “Come on, let’s get back to the party. I haven’t bought my special brews from Garreth yet.”

Poppy smirked and pulled two little bottles from her dress pocket, holding them up with a wiggle. “It’s a good thing I thought ahead then,” she said, handing one to MC. “Bottoms up!”

Downing the little drink, MC gasped and coughed, putting a hand to her chest as the brew burned all the way down. “Bloody hell!”

Poppy giggled through her own spluttering before grabbing MC by the arm. “Come on, let’s go and dance. We need to find you a boy to kiss as well.”

“Poppy, no…” MC protested, but it was pointless. Poppy may be small, but she had no problems dragging MC back out into the pub where the band was in full swing.

The Three Broomsticks was packed to the rafters with students and locals, and the band was playing music that got your feet stomping. There were already plenty of patrons dancing, the atmosphere one of good-natured fun with paper streamers decorating the room. The bar was busy, two or three people deep in places, and Sirona looked rushed off her feet, but her smile was wide as she served her customers.

Despite the crowded pub, MC was already seeking out the whereabouts of Garreth, finding him holding court with his friends. His gaze immediately locked with hers, and he gave her a soft smile. Ever since she had arrived, they had been catching each other’s eyes across the room, unable to stop seeking each other out as the memory of their kiss played out in her thoughts. A line had been crossed now. All she could think about was having another taste of his kisses, her gaze pulled to his mouth, her body warming with an ache that pulled hot and fierce.

Did it show on her face when she gazed his way? Their eyes would meet, and that ache would flare, her lips twitching at the corners before she dipped her gaze away, that little smile lingering on her lips.

It was impossible. He was so close and yet so far, within reach and yet he was like forbidden fruit, her hands fidgeting with the need to feel his warmth, but held back out of respect for the boy who was at his side.

Oscar had been near him all evening so far and she still hadn’t plucked up the courage to speak to him yet, putting it off and keeping her distance from both Weasley boys. All she could do was stare at Garreth with longing and wait for their next stolen moment.

In the meantime, Poppy had pulled her to the dancing area, joining the throng of people taking part in a dance that saw them switching partners as they moved around the space. They started by dancing together, Poppy’s earlier worries over Sebastian seemingly gone as she twirled and skipped with MC.

As the partners moved to switch, Poppy giggled and shoved MC right into the arms of a tall, dark haired chap who gave her a huge smile before twirling her around. He looked vaguely familiar, a seventh year Ravenclaw if she wasn’t mistaken, but before she could get a chance to speak to him, the couples were swapping again, and she found herself in the arms of a pretty, blonde witch.

The dance was fast, and combined with the effects of Garreth’s potent brew, MC was breathless and flushed when she found herself in the arms of Oscar. Breath catching, she stared up into his familiar blue eyes, his hands warm and firm at her waist as they spun in the dance. His smile was aimed at her, as disarming as ever, and she gave him a hesitant smile in return. The last time she had been in his arms, it had been far more intimate, but that was behind them now.

“You look lovely,” he said near her ear. There was something dark and longing in his eyes as she looked up at him, and she swallowed hard, resisting the urge to pull away from him.

She lowered her gaze, unable to look at him as the weight of Garreth’s kiss lay over her. That was where she longed to be, after all, with Garreth, and she feared the truth would be laid bare in her eyes. It should be Garreth’s hands at her waist, leading her in a dance like he had that day in the centre of Hogsmeade.

Oscar's fingers gently caught her chin, tilting her face up towards him. “MC…”

“Don't,” she said quickly, the look in his eyes saying more than enough. It made her chest squeeze, fearing she might have to say the words that had hurt him all over again. “Don't say anything, please.”

The effort to hide his disappointment played out across his face, but he nodded, continuing on with the quick steps of the dance until she was whisked away into the arms of another, his words swallowed down and left unspoken.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she met his gaze. Whatever he had been about to say was better left unsaid, no matter how difficult it was to see the loss on his face. It was time to move on.

Losing the enthusiasm for the dance, MC excused herself from her partner and made her way from the dance floor, a tight band squeezing around her chest. The air felt too hot and restrictive, the noise and press of bodies had become overwhelming and she needed some air.

The night sky was littered with stars, the air crisp and fresh against her flushed cheeks as she sought a moment in the darkness, the soft glow of various lights in the village adding to the cheerful charm of Hogsmeade. MC rubbed her arms, her skin chilled through the thin fabric of her blouse, turning as the door to the pub opened again behind her.

Garreth appeared, alone and so very handsome in his burgundy shirt and dark, grey waistcoat, his mop of hair tumbling about his freckled face. He paused, a hesitant smile on his lips as he regarded her.

“I saw you with Oscar,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. As he spoke, his breath misted in the cold air. “I just wanted to see if you were alright.”

The urge to run to him, to throw her arms around him and bury her face into his neck, seemed to consume every nerve ending in her limbs. She flexed her fingers, forcing her feet to remain planted on the well-worn cobbled street. Someone could see, and lips would whisper. Keeping the secret was going to be harder than she thought.

“Can we sneak away? Do you think we would be missed?” After asking, a small laugh slipped past her lips, and she shook her head. “What am I saying? You're the guest of honour, of course you will be missed.”

Garreth smiled and moved closer towards her. “If that's what you want, just say the word, and we will go.”

He pulled a hand from his pocket, reaching out to touch his fingers to hers. His eyes held more warmth than any flame as he looked at her. They could go right now. She pictured it, grabbing his hand and running to the nearest Floo point. They could be gone in moments, their lips free to kiss, their hands free to hold each other away from all the prying eyes.

But she wasn't so selfish that she would drag him away from his own birthday party.

The door swung open again, and Leander stumbled out, laughing as his friend Elijah staggered out behind him, chasing off any imagined dreams she may have of making a sneaky getaway. Clearly, they had been indulging in a few of Garreth’s potent brews and were well past the tipsy point. How everyone was going to sneak back to the castle without being caught was a mystery MC didn't fancy solving.

“There he is! Hey, birthday boy,” Leander cheered, pointing at them. He took in the scene, and MC went to remove her fingers from Garreth's, but he grasped them tighter as he turned to look at his friends. “What are you up to, Garreth, eh? Are you trying to get yourself a birthday kiss or something?”

Elijah chuckled and nudged Leander's shoulder. “I thought Nellie was going to do that.”

Leander shook his head and put his finger to his lips. “Shh, no. Nellie wants to, but Garreth wants to kiss MC, but that's a secret. Don't tell her. Or Oscar…”

MC looked at Garreth with an eyebrow raised. So much for being discreet. He gave her a sheepish look and rolled his eyes.

“Fuck sake, Lee. Can you not keep your trap shut for five minutes?” Garreth grumbled.

Leander still had his finger over his lips, giggling as him and Elijah swayed on their feet. “Garreth, shh. She's right there.”

Elijah mumbled something about leaving them to it and pulled Leander back towards the door, both of them almost falling over their own feet as they managed to get the door open in another fit of giggles.

MC removed her hand from Garreth's and folded her arms, trying to give him a stern look, but it was hard. He looked too adorable standing there looking guilty, his cheeks flushed pink.

“Did you tell Leander about us?”

“No, at least not what happened today, but Leander has known how I feel about you for a while.” He was fiddling with the buttons on his waistcoat, the toe of his boat scraping against the cobbles. “I'm surprised he hasn't blabbed before now to tell the truth.”

“I see,” she said, tilting her head slightly. She narrowed her eyes, pretending to ignore the flutter in her tummy at his admission of having feelings for a while. “So, Nellie wants to give you a birthday kiss, does she?”

Garreth shook his head, green eyes earnest and wide. “I wasn't going to let her, MC. I swear it on the sword of Gryffindor. You're the only girl I want to kiss.”

MC fought back her smile, the tightness in her chest seemingly gone as she looked into those green eyes, the sweet natured person behind them holding a magic aura that just seemed to make everything feel that much lighter and safer. Whenever she felt lost, he pulled her back, his light a warmth she couldn't help but follow.

It was so easy to believe him. There was no doubt that he wouldn't let Nellie kiss him, and even though the very thought of it made her tummy twist with envy, she felt safe that it wouldn't happen. She felt safe with Garreth.

“So, I don't need to be hexing Miss Oggspire just yet, then?” She teased.

“No need at all,” he said.

He took her hand again, lifting it to his lips so he could press a quick kiss to the back of it, and smiled, green eyes twinkling now. “A little taster for what I want to do once we can be alone. For now, let's get back to the party before Leander tells the whole pub I want to snog you silly.”

MC smirked. “Maybe I will get to hex someone after all if he does.”

He chuckled and took her arm. “Come on, let's get you a drink. There will be no need for any hexing. You leave Leander to me.”

….*....

To dance with MC, just a simple touch to her waist and a look into her eyes, and all the feelings Oscar had been trying to push down came bubbling back up. He still wanted her.

Stupidly, he had taken it too far and touched her face, opened his mouth, and nearly made a fool of himself. The swiftness with which she had shut him down told him plenty. There would be no going back.

There was no escaping the lingering glances between her and Garreth either. Maybe it was because he was looking for it. Garreth’s journal and Trixie's words still plagued him, and he couldn't help but watch out for little signs. They were circling each other, staying further apart than usual, and yet their eyes seemingly found a way to keep a connection.

When MC had left the pub after their dance, he had fought against the urge to follow her, and then Garreth had made his way towards the door instead. Oscar watched his brother disappear after the girl he had lost and shook his head. It would be like holding back the tide trying to deny what was under his nose, and he really wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Jealous, perhaps, jealous and annoyed that his own brother would take his girlfriend. Torn, because of his natural instinct to want his brother to be happy, too. He knew Garreth felt inadequate at times, and Oscar had wished for him to find his way. Why did that have to be with MC, though?

Wallowing in his own self-pity, Oscar headed for the bar in search of a whiskey. Drowning his sorrows was likely a dumb choice, but right now, it seemed to be in order. He was on his second shot when a familiar waft of perfume filled his nose, and he looked down at a pair of eyes currently settled as a deep, midnight blue. Trixie always had a smile for him, those pretty little lips curved upwards with sinful promise.

“You always look pleased to see me, Trix,” he said, twirling his glass on the bar top. “Can I get you a drink?”

Her smile widened a touch. “I'll take a whiskey, seeing as you're offering.”

Oscar signalled for another shot and leant against the bar, eyeing the dark-haired girl beside him. He didn't flinch back as she lifted her hand and gently brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead.

“Why so sad, Oscar? It's supposed to be a party,” she said softly.

“You were right,” he said with a sigh. “I think MC and my brother are inevitable.”

“I'm sorry, honey,” she said, her hand lingering to touch his cheek. “Try not to let it bring you down, though. Sometimes, things don't work out how we want them to. We just have to find ways to move on.”

There was something very sad behind her eyes when she said this, and it made him study her thoughtfully. She had always been a means to an end if he was being honest, a tumble in the sheets, and then gone. She had never been one for the deep and meaningful side of things, and yet lately, she had been softer than usual.

It was a side of herself she rarely showed. He felt bad for using her, his realisation from the other day catching up to him. His actions had consequences, and he wondered if he had ever hurt her feelings. If he had, she had never shown it. Trixie was always hanging around near the Quidditch ground, and she always had a smile for him. They had never made any promises to each other, and that way, nobody should have gotten hurt.

The whiskey glass appeared on the bar for her, and he reached out to pass it along, her own hand moving to pick it up, too. Their fingers brushed, eyes meeting with a smile.

“Is that what you did after us?” He asked. “Did you just move on?”

Trixie merely smiled and held up her whiskey glass in salute. “Here’s to moving on,” she toasted.

….*....

Garreth had been urged up onto a table top in full view of everyone, the band playing along as the pub sang Happy Birthday to him. All the attention was becoming a little overwhelming after a whole day of it, and all he could think about was MC’s suggestion about slipping away somewhere on their own. His eyes sought her out in the crowd of school friends around him. Her smiling face was the only one he wanted to see.

As the clapping and cheering thundered around him, he jumped down from the table and saw Nellie Oggspire waiting eagerly for him. A momentary flicker of panic lit through him after what Leander and Elijah had mentioned, his eyes glancing at her hopeful eyes and smiling mouth. There was nothing wrong with Nellie. She was perfectly lovely, but there was only one girl for him. Just as he was pondering how to put her off in a gentle, kind manner, a flurry of brunette hair and strong arms saw him being pulled away through the crowd.

“Come on, birthday boy,” Sebastian chuckled, slapping him heartily on the back. He leant in close to Garreth to speak quietly into his ear. “That was a close one. Nellie nearly pounced on you then, and you don't want that when a certain Hufflepuff is giving you the soft eyes. MC has been staring at you all night. Got something to share, Garreth?”

Garreth gave Sebastian a side-eyed look, his cheeks colouring up wonderfully as they pressed through the crowd. Relief at avoiding Nellie mingled with the realisation that it would be very hard to keep this secret from Sebastian.

“I don't know what you mean,” he said carefully. “Thanks for saving me, though. Nellie is lovely and all, but not my type.”

“Don't you worry, mate. I've got your back,” Sebastian said with a grin. “Why don’t you ask MC for a dance?”

Garreth glanced over to where Oscar was chatting with Trixie. They were laughing, Oscar leaning in close, his most charming smile on his lips as his hand touched her elbow. Ever since he had spotted them together, he had felt tense and agitated. He wondered if it was jealousy. After all, it wasn't that long ago that he had been sneaking into broom cupboards with Trixie.

It wasn't jealousy, though. No. He was pissed off.

Garreth had been the master of restraint all day since his kiss with MC in the bathroom and all to save the feelings of his brother. Well, Oscar didn’t look too bothered now, with his hand tracing up Trixie’s arm.

“Your brother just can’t help himself, can he?” Sebastian said, following the direction of Garreth’s gaze. “I hope that wasn’t going on whilst he was with MC. Trixie is always sniffing around him.”

“No point worrying about it now,” Garreth said with a sigh, turning to search out MC. “Where is MC? I might just ask her for that dance after all.”

Sebastian patted his shoulder and smirked. “Go get her, Weasley.”

Approaching MC shouldn’t have made him nervous, but he could feel the tremble in his hands as he drew nearer. He felt like everyone was watching him as he put a tentative hand to her elbow. Maybe Oscar would come and drag them apart, try to stop them. Garreth would like to see him try. He would fight for her this time. All that training with Sebastian had given him a boost of new confidence.

MC's eyes met his, a smile lifting her lips as she turned from her chat with Poppy. “Hey, Garreth.”

“Erm, I was wondering… May I have the next dance?” He asked, holding out his hand towards her.

The seconds seemed to stretch as she looked down at his hand, her teeth catching at her lower lip in a way that made him want to snatch her up and run away with her. Poppy was watching, her face splitting into a wide grin as she gave MC a gentle nudge.

“Oh, how charming! MC would love to, wouldn’t you?” Poppy gave MC another nudge with a little giggle. “He even has freckles.”

MC’s face flooded with colour, delicate pink staining her cheeks and neck as Poppy continued to urge her forward. Garreth gave them both a puzzled look. What did his freckles have to do with anything?

However, MC was placing her hand into his, handing over her mug of Butterbeer to Poppy as she gave him a shy smile. “I would love to dance with you,” she said softly.

It was the perfect excuse to be able to place his hands on her, holding her waist and her hand, as they twirled about the floor. Joining in with many other couples doing the same, it was easy to get lost in the crowd, and he risked holding her a little closer.

“What’s so special about my freckles, then?” He asked, leaning close to her ear to speak above the music.

He caught her smile as she leaned in to answer. “Would it interest you to know I have a ‘thing’ for freckles? I find them very attractive.”

“Is that so?” He lifted his arm to twirl her around, his arm sliding about her waist to hold her even closer. “Then it might interest you to know I don’t just have freckles on my face.”

His mouth twitched in amusement as her wide eyes glanced down at his chest. He brought their clasped hands up between them, displaying the back of his with a playful smirk. “I also have them on my hands.”

There was that gorgeous smile of hers, her laughter bringing the sparkle out in her eyes. It felt good to see it, even better knowing he was the one who put it there.

Her smile faded, though, as her gaze drifted towards the bar. A shadow flickered in her eyes, and he turned to look at Oscar and Trixie still there together. He felt his stomach tighten, and he turned them both so MC had her back to the bar.

“Just keep your eyes on me,” he said softly. “I've got you.”

They moved with the music, their bodies grazing against each other in the most teasing of brushes, each touch building on the flame that flickered inside of him. She did as he said and kept her gaze on him.

As the song came to an end and they paused to clap, MC moved as if to leave the dance floor. Garreth reached for her, his hands sliding about her waist from behind, tugging her back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, his mouth dangerously close to her ear. “That was only half a dance. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Garreth,” she gasped, twisting to look at him. “Isn’t this a little daring? People can see us, you know.”

Oscar could see, more like, but Garreth found he didn't care. He turned her fully so that she faced him, his hands securely holding her waist now. “One more dance with me, or we can sneak out of here. Either way, I fully intend on keeping my hands on you.”

His heart was racing at his boldness. He didn't want to push her too far. However, he couldn't seem to hold back. He was tired of holding back for others.

“Oh, really?” She said, her eyebrows lifting. “You're sounding rather confident, Mr Weasley.”

He leaned in, eyes fixed on hers, his blood on fire as his hands subtly squeezed her waist. “Are you telling me you don't want more of what happened earlier?”

Her hands gripped his forearms, her eyes darkening as her chest began to rise and fall more rapidly. It was fascinating to watch, and so very arousing. That delicate pink blush stained her cheeks again, and her lips parted so invitingly that he was barely hanging on to his restraint. How many nights had he lain awake fantasising about her looking at him in this way? He’d lost count.

The music started up again, and her hands slid up to his shoulders as they began to move. Her eyes never left his, and when he twirled her around, their fingers sliding against each other’s as he held their hands above their heads, she immediately locked gazes with him again when he pulled her in close. She had not spoken again, merely choosing to dance as the tension slowly built between them.

His hand splayed out against the small of her back, fingertips grazing the waistband of her trousers as her hips moved with the music. Slowly, the other dancers were beginning to fade out. The pub was packed full, and yet it felt like it was only them in the room. Leaning in, his head next to hers, he felt the tickle of her hair against his cheek. The floral tones of her perfume were intoxicating, his eyes drawn to the graceful curve of her neck, the smooth skin just begging to be kissed.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to kiss you,” he said. “Everyone else be damned.”

“Then I guess you had better get me out of here,” she murmured softly.

His heart hammered against his ribs, her eyes deep pools of longing that promised to drown him. “Meet me outside, across the street from the entrance. Five minutes.”

She nodded. “I’ll be there.”

Garreth shifted back, lifting his arm to twirl her once more before pausing to bend and press a kiss to the back of her hand in a polite, courtly bow. He lifted his eyes to hers, his gaze loaded with the promise of their meeting.

With one last longing look, he let her hand go and left her. He needed to find Sebastian and make his excuses. It was time to get out of here.

….*....

She was breathing far too fast, the air in the pub suddenly very hot as she pushed her way through people towards where she had left Poppy. It wasn’t panic that was making her chest thud wildly. It was anticipation. Her blood thrummed with it as she arrived beside Poppy, and her cheeks flushed.

“Will you be alright if I leave?” MC asked, pressing her hands to her cheeks in an effort to cool them. “I’m going to call it a night and head back.”

Poppy grabbed her arm and pulled her into a quieter corner, her lips twisting up into a smirk. “Please tell me it’s because you’re leaving with Garreth.”

“Whatever do you mean?” MC moved her hand to her forehead, trying and failing to look innocent.

“Pfft, are you kidding me?” Poppy chuckled. “I genuinely thought he was going to kiss you on that dance floor. You could barely take your eyes off each other. And now, you're in a hurry to get out of here. Come on, you're not fooling me.”

MC winced. “So much for being discreet,” she groaned. “Okay, yes. I'm leaving with Garreth.”

Poppy gasped, grabbing her hands as a huge smile split her face. “I knew it! Sebastian has not outright said anything, but I am not silly. Garreth is on your kiss list, isn't he?”

MC felt the heat scorch her neck and bloom on her cheeks. She nodded, biting down on her lower lip. “I want to kiss every freckle he has,” she confessed. “All of them. Every single one.”

Poppy squealed in excitement and hugged MC, practically jumping up and down. MC hugged her back, a little relieved to have finally admitted it out loud to someone. There was still the nagging doubt, though.

“Does this make me a bad person?” She asked, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I mean, is it too soon after Oscar?”

Despite seeing Oscar getting cosy with Trixie at the bar, that nagging guilt still plagued her. Telling herself that she didn't care what he did now, she tried to forget the image of him touching Trixie on the arm. She would be lying if she said it didn't sting a bit. Her gut feeling had been right all along. It wasn't meant to be.

Oscar seemed able to move on, which meant she should be free to do the same. Garreth was waiting for her. All she had to do was reach out and take what her heart craved.

Poppy's smile faded slightly, and she took hold of MC's hands again. “Does it feel wrong to be with Garreth?”

“No,” MC shook her head immediately. “It feels right and has done for a while. I just didn't want to hurt Oscar more than I already have.”

“Oscar is a big boy. He will be just fine,” Poppy said, patting her hands. “You weren't together that long, and it wasn't too serious. We're young, MC. We are discovering ourselves and what we want, and that's okay. You need to do what feels right for you, and if that means you leave here with Garreth tonight, then you go for it.”

MC swallowed against the tightness in her throat, squeezing Poppy’s hands gratefully. “I love you, Poppy.”

Poppy smiled. “I love you, too.”

Poppy's eyes then lit up mischievously, and she opened her little bag, digging deep before pulling out a small vial of potion. She slipped it discreetly into MC’s hand. “Take this with you. Just in case.”

“What is it?” MC opened her hand to take a look at the pale, pink potion. Poppy covered her hand back over it with a smirk.

“Let's just say you will need it if things get particularly hot and interesting between you and Garreth,” she whispered, her eyes twinkling. “It will stop you cooking up a little Weasley.”

“Poppy!” MC gaped, her whole body flushing as she clutched the little vial to her stomach, glancing quickly around them. “For Merlin's sake! Where did you get this?”

Poppy smirked. “It's sensible to be prepared, MC. Sebastian and I took precautions and made sure to have a ready supply, as should you, if you want to take the next step. Even if you don't use it tonight, keep it on you. Make sure you drink it the same day you let him take you. It should cover you for 24 hours.”

MC felt a rush of heat, titillated at the feel of the potion in her grasp, a sensual throb pulsing between her thighs at the thought of Garreth taking her. She smoothed her thumb over the vial and then slipped it into her pocket, taking a steadying breath.

“Thank you,” she said, nodding.

“Go on,” Poppy said, nodding towards the door. “I will cover for you like you did for me, so don't worry about coming back to the dormitory tonight. If you want to stay with him, then stay. Even if you just sleep. Be happy, MC. You deserve it.”

With one more quick hug, MC left Poppy in the Three Broomsticks, heading out into the cold, night air to meet with Garreth. Her pulse fluttered in anticipation as she hurried across the cobbles to where Garreth was waiting against a stone wall.

He held his hands out towards her, and she took them, letting him pull her close against the lean warmth of his body.

“It's not quite midnight,” he said, his arms circling her waist. She put her arms around his neck, fingers curling into the soft locks of his hair. “That means it's still my birthday. I was thinking, how about another one of your amazing hugs? Maybe it will be even better than this afternoon.”

Pressing herself up against him, MC smiled before touching her lips to his. She felt the excitement, the heat that stirred deep within her, and she didn't doubt it at all. This is where she wanted to be. “Take me to your dormitory, and I will see what I can do.”

She heard his breath catch, his darkening green eyes staring intently into hers.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, that feeling of safety that came from being in his arms only proving just how sure she was.

“I just want to be with you,” she said softly. She brushed the wavy strands of his hair back from his forehead, savouring the feel of it sliding through her fingers. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” he smiled. He held her tightly. “Hold on to me and relax, MC. I will get us to the gates of Hogwarts.”

MC clung to him, her head against his shoulder as she felt the thick swirl of his magic envelope them, and Hogsmeade vanished in a dizzying spin of black as he Apparated them away.

To be continued....

[traewilson]

So yesterday I saw Inside Out 2 in the theaters. Gotta say, I left quite conflicted. The film itself is good, pretty darn good, in fact. But all my thoughts about it that aren't just "the animation is purty", or "it made me laugh once or twice", were largely negative? It is decidedly, I dare say objectively worse than the first in most respects. This film gives the established characters much less to do that aren't Joy, and the new emotions are wafer-thin that aren't Anxiety. It isn't nearly as funny or as emotionally impactful as the first. If you're expecting any plot beat to hit as hard as Bing-Bong from the first, curb your expectations.

The old characters who aren't Joy aren't given anything interesting to work with. The new (non-emotion) characters are mostly bland and undercooked. One of these characters just plain disappears from the movie completely, never to be seen again, and it's so ODD. It's a kind of narrative sloppiness you usually dont get from animated films from Disney specifically.

And then there's the new emotions, most of whom are wafer-thin and barely even characters. Anxiety being the main antagonist is given dimension and nuance almost rivaling Joy, but Ennui? A one-note joke character. It's funny because Ennui is a big word so Joy calls her "Ui-Ui" instead. Embarrassment has a bit of nuance being the one emotion from the new batch to be friendly towards the older emotions, specifically Sadness, but otherwise again his whole bit can be summarized as: Ha Ha, Big Guy Be Bashful, Please Laugh. There's no spin on the joke. It's just that ancient moth-bitten joke, again. But Envy is I think the worst of the bunch. The character does nothing throughout the film. All they do is cheer on Anxiety. They don't even really act envious which is really really odd? You'd think they could be a twist baddie - where like Envy wants to take the controls away from Anxiety and run the show herself. This is one time that tired Disney trope of the twist villain could've worked. But THEN we wouldn't have the seemingly mandatory now Realistic Panic Attack Scene, so, this character just Exists. A vestigial character that adds nothing, does nothing - it just Is. Criminal waste of a talent like Ayo Edebiri. Darn shame. Maybe in the third one you'll get to do something.

The film tries to follow in the footsteps of Turning Red, in regards of being a analysis of life as a child entering puberty, and it's a wet fart in the wind compared to what Turning Red did. It doesn't have the honesty, the heart, the integrity - it's toothless. It's too generic to be of any use to someone in the same position as Riley in the real world.

But this isn't why I'm writing this. No. There's a specific scene in the movie that just hasn't left my head since I saw the movie, and I have to get my thoughts written down and out there so I can stop thinking about this already.

Minor unimportant spoiler here. So in one scene, Anxiety is compelling a team representing the imagination, if I recall correctly? Anyway, she's compelling the imagination - represented like animators working on animation - to draw up as many scenarios as possible that affirm their paranoia. Joy and Gang enter, and stealthily start drawing up potentially positive outcomes, upsetting Anxiety. Joy gives a rousing speech about how they should draw the things they genuinely believe in, and not let Anxiety push them around, culminating in a chair being thrown at the Apple commercial Big Brother monitor Anxiety is speaking to them through. The mind cops show up, Anger immediately tries to pummel them (based,) and the gang is forced to run away.

To me, this is yet another in a long line of Disney not so subtly trying to control or manipulate discourse through their art / product. Now, an important disclaimer: Of course, all art is trying to say something to the audience - at least any art worth its salt does. But this isn't any one artist's messaging; this is the Walt Disney Corporation's messaging, to my thinking. The difference should be stark between the messaging of a lone human being and a monolithic megacorp's executive staff. Be aware: this is my read. If you don't see what I see, cool and fine. Just keep an open mind.

This sequence has no bearing on the rest of the story. It's a digression that only exists for the sake of the message contained within. It obviously is addressed partially to Disney animators. Disney is acknowledging they've been overworked before, and it gives them the false hope they have a voice within the company, that they can defy their boss and make a stand. They can draw what they want! They can say no! This is, of course, nonsense. Disney does not support this. If their workforce acted out like this, they would all be fired, and Disney wouldn't lose an ounce of sleep over it. I feel like it's a message to the audience as well - a virtue signal to give the dullard audiences the impression they're Good Guys when they most definitely are not that. And I feel it's sending another message to both animators and audience - the solution isn't actually changing anything. The bad leader is calmed down, put back in their place within the system, and the old leader restored. This kind of messaging is mind poison to a susceptible mind, young or old. You dont change anything. Only the leaders can fix the problem with leadership, and the solution is simply to get the Right Leaders in charge again, for everybody to reconcile their differences. I see Anxiety as the Republican Party in the eyes of the executives / writers and directors - mentally unstable, but well-meaning. A vital component to the functioning of the Body, but one that needs to be kept pacified or it will run out of control and cause damage; try to dominate the Body and cast out the people who know what they're doing. Anxiety is, to my thinking, conservatism in the eyes of the team / the executives. You could extrapolate extrapolate it out so that Anxiety is literally Donald Trump. Admittedly the evidence is slim. The domineering (orange) authoritarian who monopolizes the power around themselves. Envy is the mindless sycophant who blindly agrees to everything Anxiety says - the Marjorie Taylor Greenes, the Ted Cruzes, the Lindsay Grahams. Ennui holds the controls too, but does nothing with them beyond introducing sarcasm to Riley's mindscape. Ennui is the passive fool who sees everything going down and just Does Not Care enough to do anything to stop it. And Embarrasment, in the eyes of the team, is the Good One who is doing good behind the scenes, helping Sadness. The liberal image of the ideal Republican. This is, I admit, a major stretch, and it's ultimately just my read. But I don't think I'm completely off base here.

Uhh, so yeah. Not Pixar's best, and not really spectacularly bad in a way that's at least memorable like Cars 2 or Good Dinosaur. No, it's just another Pixar movie. And you know? I almost think that's worse than if it were a spectacular failure. Cars 2, Good Dinosaur, they make me really stop and think. They're fascinating. Inside Out 2 isn't interesting. It's emblematic of the continued downward spiral of Pixar into becoming an empty shell, fully filled by Disney.

But hey it played the Triple-Dent Gum jingle again and Anger hates cops so 8/10

[jilyandbambi]

the people who are pissed at Natalie's death and writing off the show bc it turns out the point of Yellowjackets wasn't some 3rd wave feminist #yas queen parable about rejecting societal norms and finding true freedom in the woods remind me of the annoying Intro to Womens Studies nerds who interpret the ending of The VVitch--y'know the movie where a malevolent entity uses starvation and grief to destroy the minds of an entire family so that he can isolate and sexually enslave the isolated & devastated eldest daughter for eternity--as a cathartic feminist metaphor.

people, the principal says it in the first minutes of the show: "all i know is that what happened was a tragedy. A terrible tragedy."

A. TRAGEDY.

because the Yellowjackets worked their asses off to get to Nationals. It was the biggest moment of their lives. They LOVED soccer. They were FREAKING PUMPED to get to Seattle and win the title. This was their DREAM.

because Jackie was a happy, perky kid from suburbia who was looking forward to going to college with her best friend. who found something to love about literally everyone but was doomed because you can't rally a starving team with a rousing speech and an ice breaker

because Shauna was going to go to Brown and grow up and find the confidence to be HERSELF instead of Jackie's best friend. And then she and Jackie have a fight and Jackie dies because of Shauna's betrayal, Shauna's jealousy, Shauna Shauna Shauna. Jackie will be a child forever because of Shauna, so how could Shauna dare grow up? She can't put her grief to rest because Jackie was never laid to rest because of Shauna. So Shauna comes out of the wilderness and marries Jackie's boyfriend and has Jackie's child and gets older year after year but never grows up because one night when she was 17 and scared she and Jackie had a fight and Shauna waited until the morning to say "I'm sorry."

because Taissa had a plan, had goals, had a future already mapped out. Nationals. Howard. Law school. Becoming a hot-shot NY lawyer. Because she got out of the wilderness and kept chugging along with The Plan because she HAD TO. But none of it is real to Taissa because you can't live and be numb, and Taissa has to be numb because if she lets herself celebrate the wins that she managed to swim while her fellow survivors sank, she’d have to remember that she too killed and ate her friends to get there. And Taissa--so distressed by what they did to Jackie she dissociated into amnesia--can't accept that, can't have that be who she is because it would ruin everything she wanted for herself. And then it's all ruined anyway.

because Lotte was a girl with psychic powers AND schizophrenia. She needed her meds!! Stopping treatment cold turkey is painful, disorienting, and SCARY, she needed support, she needed someone to tell her what was real and what wasn't because without her meds it was impossible for her to discern for herself. She needed support but got made into a god instead. And now a false prophet is all she knows how to be.

You get the idea.

The Yellowjackets didn't find freedom from society and the chains of the patriarchy when their plane crashed. They found starvation and guilt and loss and pain. The wilderness isn't a god of decadence and pleasure and ecstasy. It takes more than it gives. The team got to survive in exchange for slavish devotion and grief, and their childhoods, their dreams, their achievements, the people they loved more than themselves, the lives they’d been perfectly happy to keep on living.

They get rescued, go home, and grow into fractured adults who all, to varying degrees, actively make their lives worse because functionally, they're still scared, guilt-ridden kids lost in the woods who know no matter what that nothing will ever be okay again.

NONE OF THEM are glad that this happened. NOT ONCE does anyone say, "You know I'm grateful for this awful traumatizing experience because without it, I never would've [X,Y,Z]" NOT EVEN MISTY, who broke the transmitter so she could have friends for 5 more minutes. THIS SHOULD TELL YOU SOMETHING.

Yellowjackets is a TRAH-JAH--DEE.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 60 - 1812

You initiate The Plan.

On AO3.

The plan is simple: hit them from above. The modern twist: with bombs. In this case, that’s barrels of sparkpowder and lamp oil. It’s the same as the fake paladins, but bigger, and with more explosives. It’s also both more and less complicated.

Between Gale, a magic necklace Shadowheart picked up a few days ago (that she just told y’all about, and you catch Gale eyeballing it like a plate of biscuits and gravy), and Astarion being a sneaky shit, y’all get everything into position.

Most of them barrels dot around in the rafters over the pep rally as Door Rags hollers something about respect and bowing before you and drinking from the skulls of enemies, blah blah blah cult shit. Lae’zel takes another barrel over to Wyll. There’s a wooden bridge between drow lady and the rest of the temple, and if he and Lae’zel time it right, they’ll hopefully blow the bridge with the drow on it and spare the lot a you the trouble of fighting her.

Which leaves you, once again, in the back as everybody moves themselves into position. You watch them go and that same, sick feeling fills your gut. Astarion don’t even glance your way. You try to return the favor.

This room is bigger than that whole tollhouse. Y’all got more bombs, but the blast won’t be contained and amplified the way it was there. Plus, the targets here are more spread out. Ain’t no guarantee y’all’ll get everybody as effective; it’s probably gonna take groundwork to finish the job.

You tell Karlach to kick one of them sparkpowder barrels directly onto Door Rag’s head.

And then it’s time to exact U.S. Foreign Policy: Round Two. Time to stand back and rain down fire and death.

Door Rags finishes his rousing speech and takes a seat on—that’s a goddamn throne. Fuck that guy.

The space where Karlach should be hides in shadows—thanks to both Gale and Shadowheart, the big, burning tiefling ain’t nothing but a blurry outline. You lift your hand, palm out, fingers splayed wide.

She kicks off the first barrel.

Around the room, the others do the same. Six different barrels plummet down from the dark. They ain’t really aimed at anyone. But one of them catches a goblin, crushing it instantly even as the wooden frame bursts apart.

Gallons of accelerant burst all over the room. Door Rags stands and goblins shout and swear. And then look up.

Just in time to catch the second wave.

Sparkpowder, as Gale explained, is volatile. It don’t actually need flame to ignite. A hard enough jolt will do the trick—something about the friction between the grains building charge and then igniting.

The first one lands right on Door Rags. Face turned up, gawping in surprise. It plows him down into the ground as it comes apart and explodes.

They go off like a chain reaction. Ka-THOOM and a smaller blast as vapor drifting through the air from the accelerant combusts. You duck and cover your face as the concussive waves rattle through you. As heat scorches your skin.

It works. A shout in the distance—Lae’zel—and Wyll’s voice gone echoey and that should take care of the drow and the spy eye. Y’all might make it outta here without—

Somebody else shouts. You don’t recognize the voice. Or the language. Look over to see Shadowheart shove off the last barrel. But light flashes below. Catch a glimpse of a goblin with feathers and bones in their hair. It’s pointing a staff. You actually see the spell arcing up.

It hits the barrel midair.

Oh fu—

Horrific force blasts you. Knocks you right outta your skull.

Black.

Aware. Weightless. Hands scrabble, trying to find purchase. Your legs kick and there’s nothing underneath oh god oh fuck—

The wooden beam pulls away. Your stomach gives a funny little flip-flop.

You fall. You fall too long. This is bad. This is gonna be real—

Impact.

Pain.

Blackness.

Muffled noise—

More black.

You can’t breathe. It hurts and you cannot breathe—

***

You lie flat on your back. Your body screams. You can’t inhale. Lungs shudder and spasm and you gulp and suck and your body just won’t do it. Won’t fucking breathe in fuck you’re gonna die again, fuck shit.

Your lungs hitch. Then release. Your gasp is loud and wet. Makes you think of calves at the farmstead. The sounds they made as one of the boys slit their throat. Knowing it was bad, you always thought, knowing it was fatal but making one last bawl anyways.

Then you cough. And wet spatters your chin. It tastes like metal.

Rupture. Something broken in your chest or your throat. Inhaled blood.

Very, very bad.

The fuck happened?

You’re on the ground. It’s hard and warm. Stone? The air is thick with smoke, with screams. Orange light paints everything in waves. The place is burning. Stinks. Not just of fire, but of char. Of meat and hair.

A wooden beam far above ends in a jagged, splintered stump. The wall behind it is half-crumbled.

Goblins. You’re in the goblin camp. The bombs…

Your fingers move. Hands lift. You can wiggle your toes…

You cannot wiggle your toes. You try, and try again, but your legs are dead ends. Don’t even hurt, beyond the feel of horrifying pressure. It’s like they just…stop.

Panic skitters along the inside of your rib cage to bite into your heart like a juicy apple.

Your toes don’t move. Neither do your legs. You can’t feel them at all.

No. No, no, no, please no.

The rafter. That big, wood beam lies over you. You try to lift your head to get a better look, but that movement makes pain spike behind your eyes so bad everything turns to spinning, queasy pain.

You’re stuck. Room on fire, and you’re pinned like a butterfly in a fucking collector’s case.

The air is harsh in your throat when you drag in a gulp. Your lungs hitch, and the cough is weak, and still too wet.

“Help,” you wheeze. It’s barely audible over the sound of chaos and murder.

Where’s everybody? They was up there. You don’t see nobody now. You hope they’re okay. They was further from the barrel when it went off. Hopefully they didn't get caught like you did.

You’re tired. More than usual, more than the depression or your own dumbass trauma response. That should alarm you. Part of you registers that and reaches for the mental alarms.

But they don’t got no power.

Footsteps scurry nearby. A goblin’s scratchy voice shrieks. More voices echo in the distance, and light flashes. First purple, then gold. A woman roars.

The shadows move. You look up, find the bone and feather goblin. It sneers down at you, needle teeth glinting in the crackling inferno light.

“Traitor,” it spits and raises a knife.

You can only stare up at it. Can’t move. Exhausted. Eyelids heavy.

Silver flashes. The goblin’s throat opens. Hot, salty blood spatters all over your face. You sputter and try to blink it outta your eyes. Catch the pale fingers dig into the edge of the wound and wrench back in a monstrous tug that rips the neck wide open and damn near takes off the thing’s head.

The goblin falls.

Astarion looms into view.

He don’t say nothing. Just looks down at you. His eyes glow in the light, a haunting red that’s pure predator eye shine.

Your eyes hurt. Lids too heavy. Time seems to skip, because he’s suddenly crouched over you, his own eyes narrowed, an alien expression on his face. Like he’s sorting out which type of bug you are, like he’s cataloging which board to re-pin you to.

You try to talk, but it comes out as iron and choking. It don’t hurt much, no more. You feel almost fine. Except everything inside you is wrong in a way you’ve never felt before but know, instinctively, that you ain’t gonna recover from. You’re exhausted. You need to close your eyes and let go. Not into sleep, though. That ain’t what’s waiting for you. This is death tugging at your mind.

Catastrophic damage has broken your body; it’s shutting down and you know it. So you can only look up at Astarion, motionless above you. And close your eyes and sink down and down.

***

You have the most fucked up dream. Something with fire and red eyes and a corn seed. You wake up for just a second, enough to itch at something over your chest, before you resettle on your side. Then you’re out again.

When you wake again, you’re on a bedroll. It’s soft and warm. You burrow deeper, shove it up around your face so you can nuzzle into it. A shift of your hips and pressure disappears and you sigh. Back to sleep…

“Eleanor.”

Mrnghgrphghgh.

“Eleanor,” and then words you don’t catch. It’s Shadowheart. Shit. You musta slept in.

“’M ‘wake,” you mutter, and it comes out, “Mrngya.”

Goddamn. You gotta open your stupid eyes. Gonna have to flop around and find your goddamn pack and drink another goddamn dirt potion again.

Only you do open your eyes, and you ain’t in your tent. Trees rustle above you. A flap and a dark shape as a crow darts among the branches. It’s late evening, the sky sorta pale to the west but darkening rapidly. Shadowheart’s face is worn, flecked in blood and soot, and she’s usually real clean, what…?

Your memory kicks back on.

You scramble up.

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[blackjackkent]

Pressing onward through the illithid colony...

Rakha shoves her shoulder through another of the terrible flesh-sphincter doors and finds herself in some kind of barracks area, just as slimy as the rest.

Small alcoves branch off of a central room. Amid the slime and flesh are beds, desks, chests of belongings.

"Some who worked here were not thralls or undead," Minthara points out grimly. "They were loyal to Ketheric - and his grim cause."

And indeed, some of those people are still here. A group of some five Absolutists are standing at the far end of the barracks. One of them, a tall woman with heavy facial tattoos and dramatic headgear, seems to be leading them in some sort of rousing speech.

"Bring death! Embrace death! Become death!" she cries. "You are the sacred hand that reaches from the grave. You are the lasher of skulls, the carver of crypts, the dancer of bones. Walk in dusk and shadow; walk the path of bones in our Lord's name! This is his blessing, his consecration, and you are his scythe. Go forth and reap! Gather yourselves! Soon we march to victory!"

Rakha grabs Wyll's arm, shoves him before her towards one of the room's alcoves, trying to push out of sight - but it's too late. The group is moving into the main atrium, and the woman spots her at once.

"Ugh," she groans, irritated. "Lashers, Balthazar let one of his walking carcasses lapse from his control. Let's ferry them back--"

She breaks off abruptly and does a visible double-take. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops.

"Wait," she says softly. "By the Bone Lord... it's you!"

Rakha goes very still. Her heart begins to thump painfully in her chest, in her temple, behind her eye. She realizes, suddenly, that she knows that voice - that it resonates with a memory just beyond reach, a memory saturated with visceral terror. Every muscle in her body seems to lock up and she stands there, dumb and staring, unable to move, unable to speak.

The woman moves closer, peering at her; astonishingly, incongruously, her expression is one of... joyful recognition. Her lips struggle for a smile that seems ill-suited to the tight-drawn muscles of her face.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she says eagerly. "I wanted to keep you for myself, but they shipped you away!"

Rakha is dimly aware of Wyll moving up next to her. His rapier is out in one hand - he is waiting for her cue to strike. But she is frozen, her fists clenched at her side. For the first time, rather than fight, she wants to flee this place, and she does not know why.

This is the second person who has recognized her with pleasure. The first was that presence, the Absolute itself. And now this woman...

I wanted to keep you for myself.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she manages to rasp out. "But you're going to tell me *everything.*"

The woman's head snaps back and her eyes widen even further. "You talk? How is this possible? Something must have gone wrong..."

Then her gaze softens and the smile takes over again, spreading from ear to ear, giving her face a sharply skeletal look. "But oh... what an arresting voice you have."

She lifts a hand and dusts it with a tender gentleness along Rakha's cheekbone, over the scar on her eye. Rakha's breath quickens - not with pleasure but with panic. Often she is not even comfortable with Wyll touching her, much as she loves him; this woman's fingers make her feel like a rat caught in a trap. She wants to lash out, to jerk away... but she can't move. (*)

"You're not supposed to be here, special one," the woman croons. She sounds as if she's talking to a lost child, or a disobedient pet. "That's not right. But I don't want to damage you." She laughs softly. "You were my very first, after all. I learnt everything about the parasites from you."

She tips her head to the side with an air of reverent nostalgia, her smile softening and her eyes drifting a little out of focus. "I remember finding you close to death," she murmurs. "Beaten black and blue on the floor of this sanctum. It must have been a few hours after the tadpole was placed in your skull. How you got here was a total mystery, but I stitched you up just enough to keep you alive, then placed you within your crib..."

Her hand shifts, now cupping Rakha's cheek. She looks up into Rakha's eyes with great affection; Rakha has nearly six inches on her and yet she seems utterly unafraid, merely fascinated that she has returned.

That her pet has returned.

"I kept you as mine until you were needed by our superiors," she says gently. "We had such a close bond... I opened you up endlessly with my scalpels and got lost in your insides..."

Flashes of sudden memory, brutal as lightning strikes. A horrible parallel of the noblestalk memories, and of Malus Thorm's profane experiments in Reithwin, but this time it is Rakha on the table. This woman stands over her and lifts a knife and stabs downward and cuts--

Pain. Blood. Rakha looks down and sees her own liver, glistening, pulsing, and she screams and thrashes against the bonds holding her down--

She staggers, swallows a noise of panic that she has never made before. Focus. She has to focus, to think-- these are the answers she has looked for all this time. She can't let them slip out of her grasp.

"This is... where I was left?" she asks. Her voice sounds foreign to her own ears, strained. "After someone infected me?"

The woman shrugs. "I was not behind it. I do not know." She shakes away the moment of uncertainty and smiles beatifically. "But whoever did it, I'm so glad they left you here for me."

She draws her fingers slowly down Rakha's cheek, over her neck. "Truthfully," she says, "I'm not surprised to see you found your way back here all by yourself. I always knew you were clever." She drops her hand, spreads her arms wide with a woebegone sort of expression. "It has never been the same with another! All the other victims who come here just meekly obey. You thrashed! You fought! You were indomitable!"

Yes. She remembers fighting. She remembers terror, wanting to run, wanting to hide, find safety, strike back, kill. Nothing of her, only the beast, furious and in pain. Did she still remember anything then? Or were her memories already gone?

She lets out a long, reverential sigh, then clicks her tongue, suddenly all business. "But... as special as you are, you shouldn't be swanning around here, acting as if free will is yours again," she says brightly. "We're going to kill you, sweet one. But I promise... I will stay with you afterwards."

Her voice lifts in a sudden, commanding shout. "Lashers! Bring this one back to my table!" Her eyes narrow and her affectionate smile takes on a brittle sharpness. "And prepare my knives for a long night of experiments!"

-----

It is not Rakha but Wyll who strikes first. Almost before the Absolutist is finished speaking, his fist - heavy with the hilt of his rapier - crashes into her jaw, knocking her almost off her feet.

"Like hells you will!" he snarls.

Rakha doesn't remember the battle that follows. She's dimly aware that Wyll's attack galvanizes all of them into action, herself included - that she manages to break free of the strange rigor-mortis panic that seems to have overtaken her.

But her first clear perception is of sitting on the floor next to the woman's body, watching the blood slowly drip out of a hole in her gut, left by Lae'zel's greatsword amidst flesh charred by Rakha's spells.

Narrator: She is but the hack doctor who half-pieced you together, after whatever caused your head to get in this mess. Someone else must have attacked you, in the midst of whatever you were doing down here. This necromancer was a grunt in the scheme of the horrors enacted against you. That attacker is the source.

Try to remember the attack.

Narrator: In the heart of all these membranes, there was a dagger awaiting you all along. But from who?

The panic is fading, her conscious thought reasserting itself. This is still not answers, not really... but more images, small puzzle-piece fragments that fit into a distant sense of understanding.

Yes - she was here, once. Ketheric did not like her - but she had power nevertheless. She walked the halls freely, both above and here in this flesh-pit. And she was betrayed. Someone attacked her. Tadpoled her. Left her here to die. Except she did not die; instead she was taken by this worm of a woman, cut apart and put back together over and over and over and over--

Calm. She swallows the rising bile in her throat.

She can see Wyll watching her. He looks as ill and frightened as she feels. Lae'zel is vibrating with rage that has no outlet now that all around them are dead. Even Minthara, usually unflappable, seems disquieted, her eyebrows knitted together firmly as she looks over Rakha and the dead body next to her.

"They treat us like animals," the Nightwarden says coldly. "Beasts of burden. Pets. Laboratory rats. Our vengeance will be swift and we shall leave none standing."

Rakha doesn't answer. Yes. Vengeance. It is all she has sought - but before, her only target was Ketheric. Now there are others. The one who attacked her, who betrayed her.

Did that person put the beast in her head? Or - this thought gnaws at the back of her skull, inescapable - was it there before, and were they right to try to put her down like a dog?

-----

(*) Artistic license. Kressa doesn't touch her in-game but it seemed apropos for the way she was talking about Rakha.

[insignificant457]

Okay I'll bite, why do you think Virginia will step down as sovereign and who do you think will replace her?

Related thought: I was very into the idea of splitting the solar system into spheres of influence when Diomedes suggested it. Obviously his initial approach was naive. But it seems like a natural progression for the story, so I wouldn't be surprised if a Triumvirate does end up happening. Just need to pick a better third than 🙄Lysander🙄

Thank you for biting lol. The answer is Holiday!

I think it’s been foreshadowed quite a bit that Virginia will step down as sovereign once the war is done. In IG she tells Darrow that maybe after her term is up she won’t run for office again, and in DA when she’s escaping the citadel she vows that it’s the second to last time she leaves it, so clearly she’s had enough of the sovereigncy. And, to be honest, it seems many of the people have had enough of her. Yes the day of red doves was instigated by lilath and the abomination, but there had to have been resentment building for it to go off the way it did. And also, my girl deserves a BREAK. If she and Darrow both live they are heading off to a cabin in the middle of nowhere like “no one ever bother us again please and thank you.”

As for Holiday specifically as the replacement, I think it’s been foreshadowed as well. In DA, we find out she’s been reading Silenus’s meditations on Virginia’s recommendation, and Virginia says this:

And then in LB, she gives a rousing speech to what remains of the high command and victra says this:

We’ve seen her pull away from the howlers and more into virginias confidence over the last few books, and I think these two things could be setting her up as a replacement sovereign (or, honestly, a leader under a different title, as a signal that they are moving further away from the society).

And honestly, I think holiday would be a great candidate. She’s intelligent, level headed, firm but willing to compromise, humble without being a pushover. She’s an important figure in the initial rising, a long time son of ares, and she’s also got a legion military background, so I think she’s in a unique position to understand both the supporters and the skeptics of the republic.

She also has absolutely no desire for that kind of power, which is one of the qualities that make the best leaders, because she won’t become power hungry and abuse her position. And most importantly, she’s not a member of the previous ruling class. If the republic ever wants to move forward with true equality, they can’t keep handing the reigns from gold to gold to gold.

I also think, assuming Virginia lives and steps down willingly, she’d be a great confidante to holiday and be able to help her bear the weight of all those people. She’s mentioned how lonely the morning chair is, and I think she’d be more than willing to be an understanding ear if holiday took it over, since they’ve become so close.

Also, yeah, the spheres of influence really intrigued me when diomedes brought it up, especially since we saw how so many of the citizens of mercury were vehemently against the rising. I could see someone else (not Lysander obviously, as I suggested maybe Cicero since he got more focus than I expected this time around and he seems fed up with war already and more willing to lay down arms than, say, Julia au Bellona) ruling the core with some version of the hierarchy still intact but without the unwilling subjugation of anyone who doesn’t actively choose to, as diomedes said “give up their freedom in exchange for security.” Idk it doesn’t seem ideal, but this series is all about exploring the little gray areas.

[insanesonofabitch]

For everything there is a season. You made an exception for me. You’re different. For the first time, I feel… See, he has this weakness. He likes you. My superiors have begun to question my sympathies. Your sympathies? I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. Dean and I do share a more profound bond. You think I came because you called? I came because this. …well, it’s nice to know what matters. It does help one to focus. I’m sorry, you had me confused with the other angel? The one in the dirty trench coat who’s in love with you? I’m holding up my end. Ah yes, because that’s all you’re holding, huh? See, the stench of that Impala’s all over your overcoat, angel. Thank you for protecting my wife. …your wife? Go ask him, he was your boyfriend first. Why should we give you anything? After everything you have taken from us? The very touch of you corrupts! When Castiel first laid a hand on you in hell he was lost!!! I’m not good luck, Dean. You know what, bottom of the ninth and you’re the only guy left in the bench? Sorry but I’d rather have you. Cursed or not….what? Well, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I detect a note of forgiveness. Yeah, well, we’re probably gonna die tomorrow, so… Well I’ll go with you. Where’s the angel? You’ll find your angel there. Damn it’s good to see you! Nice peach fuzz. I prayed to you, Cas! Every night! I know. You know, and you didn’t—what the hell’s wrong with you? I’m an angel in a land of abomination. There have been things hunting me from the moment we arrived. Join the club! These are not just monsters, Dean. They’re leviathan. I have a price on my head and I’ve been trying to stay one step ahead of them to—to keep them away from you. That’s why I ran. Cas, we’re going home. If the leviathans wanna take a shot at us, let them! We’ve ganked those bitches once before we can do it again. Let me bottom-line it for you. I’m not leaving here without you. Buddy, I need you. Cas, it’s me. We’re family. We need you. I need you. Cas— I know you’re in there…I know you are. I forgive you, Cas. I—[redacted][redacted]. You see, I don’t trust angels. And yet, you haven’t warded this place against us… Oh, I know. You’re hoping Castiel would return to you. I admire your loyalty, I only wish he felt the same way. And after a rousing speech, his true weakness is revealed. He’s in love…with humanity. You gave us order, Castiel. And we gave you our trust. Don’t loose it over one man. The Angel tablet, arguably the most powerful instrument in the history of the universe is in pieces. And for what again? Oh, that’s right. To save Dean Winchester. Oh, that was your goal, right? I mean, you draped yourself in the flag of heaven…but ultimately, it was all about saving one human, right? Clock’s ticking again, isn’t it? So heroic. Running errands all over the US, burning through that rather finite supply of grace all…in a desperate effort, to save your boyfriend. And then you’d kill the angel Castiel now that one—that, I suspect, would hurt something awful. Everyone you know, everyone you love…they could be long dead. Everyone except me. I’m the one who’ll have to watch you murder the world. Dean, stop… I don’t know, I mean, there’s things, people…feelings that I—I, I wanna experience differently than I have before. Or maybe even for the first time. …I’m just starting to think that, maybe there’s more it all than I thought. You wanna know the secret to living a long life? Actually yes I do. Follow your heart. You do that, all the rest just figures itself out. I can see inside your heart, feel the love you feel, except…it’s cloaked in shame. I’m gonna cure you of your human weakness, same way I cured my own. By cutting it out. You blast me away you blast away every angel in the room. I’ll survive. Castiel on the other hand, he’s hurt. He might live or he might just end up a bloody smear on the wall. Do it. Roll the dice…that’s what I thought. I just, uh, wanted to return this… It’s a gift. You keep those. It was under my pillow. He went into my room and he played me!

[danversxluthor]

The Super Blues (Pt 2) -- REWRITE

Kara and Lena meant to talk to Lori the morning after the parent teacher conference, but once again life got in the way. Supergirl was needed at a massive industrial fire near the wharf and Lena was called in for an emergency board meeting on a critical therapeutic acquisition. Their parents’ temporary absence wasn’t an uncommon occurrence and neither of the Luthor-Danvers kids were surprised or offended by it. The girls simply went about their days getting ready and then heading off to yet another day of school. 

As the week went on, more Supergirl emergencies sprung up and the acquisition discussion turned into multiple days of intense negotiations to seemingly no avail. As much as Lena and Kara were concerned about Lori and wanted to talk to her, they just couldn’t seem to find the ideal time. Alex was even helping out by driving El to and from her speech therapy, which also served the purpose of checking up on Lori.

Finally, Thursday morning rolled around, and the outside world seemed to quiet down. Kara took the opportunity to make her famous blueberry pancakes before her girls were up and getting ready for school. While Kara cooked, Lena made sure the girls were up and moving. To no surprise, Ellie was already dressed and packed up for school. 

“Good morning sweetheart” Lena greeted from the doorway. El went to wave but corrected herself seeing her mom’s raised eyebrow.

“‘Morn-ing” El greeted, “can you sign my per-per-miss-ion form?” El asked handing out the piece of paper. 

Lena quickly read through the form. “Oh, the science museum, that's wonderful El. Of course.” Lena signs her name and notes the date in her smartphone. “Now get downstairs before Jeju eats all the pancakes by herself.” And with that, El was off. 

Lori has never been a morning person and has always put up a fight to get out of bed, especially on a school day. 

Knock knock

Lena waits, not hearing any movement or seeing any lights flicker on under the doorway. 

“Lori…” Lena calls before knocking yet again. “Lori, come on sweetheart, it's time to get up for school.” Lena waits again, but after hearing no movement, she opens the door to find Lori curled up under the covers looking like a lump on the bed. After flicking on the lights, Lena makes her way over to the bed and sits gently, slowly peeling back the covers. 

“Lori, it's time to get up baby.” Lena rubs her hand up and down her daughters back slowly rousing Lori from her sleep. Lori curls in on herself further and smooshes her face into her pillow to hide from the uninvited light.

“Come on Lor, you don't want to be late for school.” Lori grumbles and starts to roll out of bed, her golden hair a complete mess. Lena kisses Lori on the forehead and walks out to give her daughter some privacy to get ready for the day.

“Oh, and better hurry, Jeju made her famous pancakes.” Lena calls from the hallway. Despite sleeping for over nine hours the teen is still exhausted. Lori makes her way to the bathroom to try and salvage some sort of acceptable look for the day. She’s glad for the school uniform - one less thing to think about. Lori pulls her unruly golden hair into a messy bun and washes her face. She looks over at the makeup but doesn’t have the energy to make the effort. Who really cares anyway. As long as she doesn't stand out she’s fine. 

El has finished her fifth pancake by the time Lori makes her way down the stairs. 

“Morning Lor,” Kara calls out, “how many pancakes for you?” 

“I don’t know, whatever's left I guess,” Lori pours herself a large thermos of black coffee and sits next to El. She sips at her coffee knowing well enough that no amount of caffeine can bring her out of the exhaustion. 

“How are the pancakes kiddo?” Kara calls over her shoulder as she goes about cleaning the dishes. After receiving no response, she tries again. “Lori, how are the pancakes? I didn’t burn them, did I?” And still no answer. 

Lena looks up from her tablet to see Lori staring out the window, tired eyes unfocused. Kara and Lena share a concerned look. El goes to get Lori’s attention, but Lena smoothly intercepts her. 

“Ellie, why don’t you get your book bag and shoes ready.” Lena suggests, eyes not leaving Lori. El, sensing something else far more serious is going on, quickly makes her exit. 

“Lori,” Lena says as she takes El’s seat and slowly brushes her hand against Lori’s shoulder. Kara has now stopped washing the dishes and is looking across the island at her eldest. The touch seems to have brought Lori back to the kitchen. 

“Hmm?” Lori’s eyes refocus and her gaze meets her Jeju’s across the island. “What was that?” Lori asks in a monotone. 

“Are you feeling ok, Lor?” Kara asks. 

“Yeah, just a bit tired I guess.” Lori explains as she picks up her fork and starts cutting the pancakes in front of her. She isn’t really hungry though, just doesn’t want to see Jeju's concerned face anymore. Lori knows she’s not fine, she knows she is more than just tired, but she doesn’t know what she is. And how can she possibly put something so minor on her parents who are already so overstretched. No, Lori knows she has to hold it together. 

“Do you want to stay home today?” Lena asks in a soft tone. “I can stay with you. My schedule is completely empty, so it would be just you and me. We can stay in and cuddle and watch movies or we could sneak out for lunch, maybe even see Aunt Alex?” Lori continues to push around the pancakes on her plate, half listening to her mom. 

“I’m fine. El and I should probably get going.” Lori leaves the cut up but uneaten pancakes on her plate and she starts getting up from the counter.

“Ok, Lori, but you can always call us from school if you need to come home and rest,” Kara comments. Alex had reported to Kara that Lori barely left her room during the week. Kara didn’t know what to make of this. Lori was looking rather pale and warn down. 

“Sure thing, Jeju,” Lori assured, trying to sound livelier to ease her parents' obvious concern. 

“We’re just worried and we love you. You can come to us with anything.” Lena says. 

“I promise I’m totally fine,” Lori says assures her parents again, this timing adding a small smirk, but the look on her moms’ faces tell her they’re not convinced. Lori walks briskly out of the kitchen to avoid any further caring remarks that just make her feel worse and worse about being an unnecessary burden. A few seconds later, Ellie sneaks through the kitchen after her sister. 

—

“Kelly, I have no idea what to do,” Lena says in exasperation. “She isn’t talking to us. She didn’t even want to stay home from school. She’s barely eating. At least she’s keeping up with school, but that's always been a walk in the park for her. What do we do?” Both Kara and Lena were in Lena’s office talking with Kelly on speaker phone. After this morning, the pair knew that it wasn’t as easy ask talking to Lori, especially when Lori had no interest in talking to them.

“You’re right to be concerned, and you’re doing the right thing by trying to talk it out.” Kelly reassures the pair. “Ultimately, Lori has to be open up on her own. Sometimes that's hard, especially for a teenager. Keep letting her know you’re here for her no matter how hard she pushes you away. It's also probably best to keep an eye on her. I know you both have difficult schedules, but to the extent at least one of you can be around in the morning or after school when the kids are home, that would be helpful.” 

“I know you told me not to, but I went on webMD and did some digging on team mental health. And... do you think she might have an eating disorder or hurt herself or…” Kara asks, swallowing her words hard. Lena squeezes her wife’s hand, dreading the thought that Lori would resort to such a thing. 

“Lori is in a unique and volatile phase of life. Teen hormones and emotions are in constant flux, it’s difficult to say what's going on without having more information.” Kelly explains. “WebMD can be a great resource, Kara, but it can lead to some quick and often misleading conclusions. For right now, just keep an eye on Lori and make sure she’s eating enough, bathing, sleeping, etc. and, Kara, maybe take a break from webMD.”

“Thank you, Kelly. We really appreciate you taking the time out of your schedule.” Lena says as she rubs her temples. 

“Anytime. I’m always happy to help. Love you both.” 

“Thanks again Kel. Love you.” 

---

As the school day went on, Lori was feeling more and more out of it. She felt guilty for being so short with her moms this morning and annoyed at herself for worrying them. Lori made it to lunch and was out behind the gym, when she realized the bell had already rung for next period. 

Despite already being late, Lori didn’t move. She stayed staring up at the sky wondering what it would be like to just disappear. She could do it. She could leave. She could get away from everything. So, Lori got up, feeling far removed from everything around her and started walking. Not back into the school, but out into the city. She walked a block without being stopped and then another and another. Before she knew it, she was across town and headed over the bridge. She couldn’t feel her legs and barely noticed her surroundings. She just kept walking. 

—

“Ma’am, the schools on the line for you,” Liz, Lena’s new assistant, called in. 

“Thank you, Liz, please patch them through.” Lena was already preparing to pack up, guessing that Lori finally took them up on the offer to stay home for the day. 

“This is Lena,” she answered in her typical business tone.

“Mrs. Luthor-Danvers, hello, this is Principal Higgins from National City Prep. I’m sorry to call you at work, but it seems Lori has not checked into her past two classes.” The message is far from what Lena anticipated and her heart rate starts to pick up. 

“She hasn’t checked in? Is her car in the lot?” Lena questions as Kara lands on her balcony having sensed the spike in heart rate. 

“Her car is still here at the school. Our security team has reviewed footage and she didn’t leave from either of the main school entrances. We’ll keep an eye out for her and call with any updates.”

“Thank you.” Lena says before hanging up the phone and grabbing onto Kara like her life depends on it and letting her tears fall. 

“We’re going to find her Lee, I promise.” Kara holds her wife.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"...the openly denounced “‘rabble’’ and ‘’scum”’ of the earlier period became, in President Theodore Roosevelt's characterization, "undesirable citizens’’—a de haut en bas put-down that drew angry responses. Roosevelt was referring to the defendants in the Steunenberg bombing case in 1905; it is believed by some that this slur helped persuade the jury to return an acquittal verdict.

The image of worker violence that came to dominate popular perceptions of industrial conflict was powerfully reinforced by the deployment through employers’ instigation of state militias and federal troops in such conflicts. The fact that the soldiery was called out in itself served as proof that workers and their allies had once again disturbed the public order and in a manner beyond the control of local authorities. Further, such call-outs brought resentment among the respectable citizenry against workers for blemishing the fair name of their city.

Perhaps the most important stimulus in the development of the violence myth was the ‘‘agitator,’” cast as the prime instigator of violence. The agitator became the scapegoat for unrest; it was his rabble-rousing talents alone that sparked a crowd into a riotous mob. That this troublemaker alone had manipulated an otherwise contented work force was demonstrated by the fact that he was an ‘outside agitator” (or alternatively a ‘‘professional agitator’). And this identification was plausible since eloquent anarchists and Wobblies were sometimes recruited from outside to charge up crowds—literally to agitate them—in conflict situations.

The fear of crowds (‘‘contentious gatherings’’ in Charles Tilly’s formulation) and the scapegoating of the agitator were linked to the thesis, inherited from the past and rationalized in the Progressive Era by Gustave Le Bon, that crowd behavior was inherently disorderly and that the anonymity afforded by mass meetings encouraged the participants to shed rational restraints and to give expression to hidden violent proclivities without fear of détection. This view was challenged by liberals and reformers of the time, who used the Hyde Park safety-valve model to support the contention that the frustration and resentments of the lower classes could be defused by setting apart public areas for unrestrained speech and assembly."

- Frank L. Donner, Protectors of Privilege: Red Squads and Police Repression in Urban America. Berkley: University of California Press, 1990. p. 23-24.